Watching her husband’s jaw drop open, Chrystabel reached beneath the table to take his hand. “Why do you want to buy it?” she asked Violet calmly.
She thought she knew the answer. She hoped she knew the answer. And when tears sprang to her daughter’s eyes, she knew she knew the answer.
“He’s s-selling it,” Violet stuttered out, “so he can fix up his house and win me.”
“Then let him do it,” Joseph said. “You don’t need to spend your—” He broke off when Chrystabel kicked him under the table. “What the—”
“What your father means to ask,” she interrupted, laying her free hand on Violet’s arm, “is what you intend to do with the book once you have it?”
Her daughter’s eyes cleared, and she drew a deep breath. “Why, give it back to him, of course. As a wedding present.”
“Oh, dear.” Chrystabel’s own eyes glazed over. Her eldest was getting married. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
HER PARENTS watched while Lord Randal handed Violet the book. She clutched it to her chest, wishing she were clutching its owner instead. But she hoped to be holding Ford soon enough.
“Father’s solicitor will send the money tomorrow. You won’t tell Ford who really bought it, will you? Even though he’s your friend?”
“My best friend. But I wouldn’t dream of it. Your secret is safe with me.”
“You’re a good friend, Rand.”
He nodded toward the book. “So are you.”
She sent him a tremulous smile. Ford would have her inheritance now, but if she felt a tiny pang at the loss of her own dream to publish a book, it was completely eclipsed by the joy of finding love. True love. A lifetime of love was so much more precious than any academic goal she might reach as a lonely old lady.
“Thank you, Rand. For everything.”
“You’re more than welcome.” He turned to leave, then swiveled back. “Where’s your sister Lily?”
“Oh, outside, I’m sure. Tending to her poor, bedraggled menagerie.”
His eyes lit, and he looked to her father. “May I have your permission to stop and visit with her?”
Father blinked. “What?”
“Joseph,” Mum explained loudly, “Lord Randal is asking if he might visit with Lily.”
“I have lilies in the garden.”
“Of course you do, darling.” She smiled at Rand. “Go ahead. I expect Lily will be pleased. But she’s young yet, Lord Randal. So visiting is all that will happen.”
Wide-eyed, he nodded and left.
Slack-jawed, Violet turned to her mother. “Lily?” she asked. “What about Rose? If she hears of this, she’ll be furious.”
“I’m not telling her,” Mum said. “Are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Tell who what?” asked Father.
SIXTY-FIVE
THREE WEEKS LATER, Ford paced Lakefield House, satisfied with the progress of the renovations. Not that everything was complete—even with an army of skilled laborers, there was only so much one could accomplish in three weeks. But the roof was sound, and the exterior was a gleaming white. The garden had been cleared, and if it couldn’t yet rival the lush beauty of Trentingham, at least it was tidy.
Ford could easily find his sundial now. A quick glance told him it was nearly noon—nearly time for Violet to arrive.
He felt as though he’d waited his entire life for this moment. Thanks to the sale of Secrets of the Emerald Tablet, Lakefield shone not only in ways that showed, but behind the scenes. The latest farming implements were on order, and tenants were moving into the newly refinished cottages. The estate hummed with productive energy and the promise of more to come. The threat of foreclosure was behind him, and despite spending a prodigious amount of money to accomplish his goals, he had enough funds remaining to live well for a few months until Lakefield started producing the respectable income it should.
He’d been surprised to discover he didn’t mind the labors of a landowner, either. It seemed to him that striving to improve a theory or technology was not so very different from improving the land. Both required experimentation, innovation, and highly specialized knowledge—the last of which Ford was currently acquiring from a very patient Lord Trentingham. He’d never been given to think of agriculture as a science, but he was finding it every bit as complex and fascinating as the other branches. Perhaps someday he’d propose a lecture on the subject to the Royal Society.
Ford knew now, beyond any doubt, that selling the book had been the right decision—and, perhaps for the first time in his life, the responsible decision. He no longer faced the months and years ahead with dread, but rather with anticipation of watching his efforts and investments pay off.
While he wouldn’t be renowned for bringing the Philosopher’s Stone to the world, Violet meant the world to him, anyway. If he could only see that look of approval return to her eyes, he’d know her love for him had endured.
He’d know all his sacrifices had been worth it.
His stomach knotted at the sight of an approaching carriage.
Here was his moment of truth.
He’d done right by Lakefield and all its people. He’d secured a future for his tenants and his children, and his own future along with it.
But if Violet refused to share it with him, it would be a bleak future indeed.
SIXTY-SIX
AFTER WAITING what seemed an eternity while she wondered what, exactly, Ford was doing with the money from her inheritance, Violet had been unnerved when a note arrived inviting her entire family to dine at Lakefield House this afternoon.
Now on their way, she twisted her hands in her lap, not really listening to her sisters’ and Rowan’s chatter filling the carriage.
As they approached Lakefield, she leaned to part the carriage curtains, spotting bright white repaired and repainted cottages along the way. They had been so dilapidated she’d hardly even noticed them before, but now children were playing outside of them and at least two dozen workers were reroofing and painting yet more.
Ford’s tenants were not being evicted. Instead, it seemed many more had moved in.
Mum
