“For what?” Rose asked.
Violet exchanged a glance with Mum. “Just to visit,” she said in as offhand a manner as she could. “You needn’t read something into every sentence.”
“What are you reading?” Father asked.
“Dear heavens.” Violet took a deep breath as the carriage rolled to a stop. They were here. Whatever was going to happen would happen now. She’d never considered herself much of an actress, but she had a role to play today, and she intended to do it well.
Ford greeted them outdoors with a formal reserve that did nothing to relax her, inviting them all for a tour of the house before dinner. Violet followed him, wondering what her parents would think, whether they would still bless this possible marriage when they saw his shabby surroundings.
But then she stepped inside.
The old dark paneling in the entrance hall was now a honeyed tone, and their first tour stop was the drawing room, where the floor had been stripped and polished, the walls painted a soft turquoise in place of the faded red.
“This is lovely,” Rose said in awe.
Had Rose seen the place last month, Violet thought, she’d be making one of her saucebox remarks instead.
But the room was lovely. Unbelievably lovely.
“I still need to order furniture,” Ford explained, “and draperies.” He looked to Violet. “I’ve no eye for decor, so I’m hoping for help with that.”
She nodded, hoping he was hoping for her help.
His study was similarly refurbished, done in shades of cinnamon and olive green. New, empty bookshelves lined all four walls.
“A library,” she breathed.
“That’s a rather feminine desk,” Rose pointed out.
“Indeed, it is,” Ford agreed. “I’ve moved my own desk upstairs, to the back of the laboratory.”
Gone was the ugly brown decor in the dining room, replaced with walls of deep burgundy to set off the refinished cabinetry. A wall had been removed to include the room next door.
Hilda was setting the old table, which now looked too small for the expanded space. “It will be half an hour or more before dinner,” she told Ford, “but I’ve set out some victuals in the garden.”
“We’re going there straight after our tour,” he assured her.
“The garden?” asked Father.
Hilda smiled and raised her voice. “If you’ll but wait a moment, Lord Trentingham, I’ll show you outside.”
The rest of them headed upstairs. The staircase had new, polished balusters, and the steps didn’t creak. “I’ve hired a cook,” Ford told Violet as they climbed, “so Hilda is just a housekeeper now.”
In Ford’s bedchamber, the peeling ceiling had been stripped, revealing dark beams with colorful painted designs from some fanciful former owner. “It’s changed so much,” Violet marveled.
Lily’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been in here before?”
Violet’s face burned. “Not here. I meant the house in general.”
The chamber looked entirely different. The massive oak canopy bed had been refinished to a warm tone, and the old bed-hangings were gone. The attached room had been opened to combine with this one, providing a spacious sitting area.
“What is this?” Rose asked, opening a door on the other side of the chamber.
The small room beyond was clean and painted but yet empty. “It will be a dressing room,” Ford said, looking to Violet and making her blush again.
“‘You cannot conceal love or a cough,’” Rowan read slowly, and she turned gratefully to see an inscription above the door.
“That was there already,” Ford rushed to explain, looking a little uneasy at hearing the romantic sentiment aloud. “We found it beneath layers of paint.”
Mum smiled. “It’s a clever turn of phrase.”
He nodded, shooting Violet a significant glance. “I suppose I agree with it, too.”
“You should marry him,” Rose whispered to Violet as they left the room. “He even has a nice house.”
For once, Violet wasn’t tempted to slap her middle sister. And if she was reading Ford’s silent messages correctly, she had reason to hope he would ask her to marry him again.
Buoyed by optimism, she practically floated into the next room, a small one painted pale green.
Ford told them it was “Jewel’s room.”
“Will Jewel come to visit and sleep here?” Rowan asked.
“I hope so.”
“Me, too.” Now that Rowan was no longer scratching, it seemed he’d forgotten that Jewel had laughed at him. “May we go to the laboratory?”
First Ford walked them through two more bedchamber-sized rooms with new walls that weren’t painted yet. Then they all trooped up to the attic. The old desk at the far end was the only change in the laboratory, but Violet wouldn’t have wanted it to see it any different. The room was Ford, plain and simple.
She didn’t remember drifting down the stairs, but a few minutes later they’d joined her father in the garden, where he was in the middle of explaining the newest pruning techniques to poor old Harry.
Leaving her family to the refreshments Hilda had set out, Ford drew Violet aside. “Come with me,” he whispered. “I’ve something else to show you.” And he walked her around the corner of the house.
There, hanging from three oaks, were three swings: two regular swings and one wider version that was more than just ropes and a board. It had a back and armrests as well.
A swing for two.
“For us,” Ford said softly, taking her hand to lead her toward it. “I remembered how you like to swing.”
“Not too high,” she reminded him, suddenly nervous. “I notice you didn’t hang them on trees near the river. Are the other two for Jewel and Rowan?”
“For now.” His hand squeezed hers. “But I hope other children will use them someday. Our children.”
“Ford…” Faith, how did one tell someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him? She had no experience with this sort of thing.
But he didn’t seem to be expecting an answer now. Reaching the double swing, he smiled and said, “Sit,” just like that day on the riverside.
Slanting him a glance, she did so, and he stepped behind her. She waited for him to push, but instead he tilted
