Free Violet (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal Page A

see the letter.’’ She snatched it from Lily’s hand.
    ‘‘ ’Tis not for you,’’ Rose said, grabbing it from Violet. ‘‘It is addressed to Rowan.’’ So saying, she slipped a fingernail beneath the sloppy red wax seal and snapped it off.
    ‘‘Rose!’’ Chrystabel chided.
    ‘‘You wouldn’t want to just give him a letter without reading it first, Mum, would you? It could be improper for one so young.’’ Without waiting for her mother’s answer, Rose scanned the page. ‘‘The handwriting is rather messy,’’ she commented, then started reading.
    ‘‘ ‘Dear Rowan.’ ’’ She looked up. ‘‘Rather familiar salute, do you not think?’’
    ‘‘Goodness, Rose,’’ Lily said, uncharacteristically impatient. ‘‘Must you criticize every word?’’ She snatched the letter back from her sister. ‘‘ ‘Dear Rowan,’ ’’ she repeated. ‘‘ ‘I am sorry about your clothes. But it was funny. I hope you will come see the stars. Love, Jewel.’ ’’
    ‘‘ ‘Love, Jewel?’ Love?’’ Violet rolled her eyes toward the plastered ceiling. The murky curlicues up there seemed in keeping with the little girl’s intricate seduction.
    Lily released a romantic sigh. ‘‘Yesterday when you brought Rowan back, you said Jewel was in love.’’
    ‘‘I was exaggerating. And to write it . . .’’ She couldn’t imagine declaring herself so casually on a piece of paper. Writing was permanent, important.
    Once something was in writing, it was there forever.
    ’Twas one of the reasons she burned to publish a book.
    ‘‘I’m in love, too,’’ Rose declared.

    Violet blinked. ‘‘With Rowan?’’
    ‘‘With Lord Lakefield, you goose. He’s so gorgeous.
    And to instruct his niece to write a letter to Rowan . . .
    well, it just goes to prove what a romantic he is.’’
    Looking rather theatrical, she laid a graceful hand on her chest, exposed in the low neckline of her periwinkle gown. ‘‘Why, ’tis almost enough to make me over-look the fact that he’s poor as a church mouse.’’
    ‘‘What a thing to say, Rose!’’
    Her hand dropped. ‘‘Well, lucky for me, it doesn’t matter, does it? Thanks to Grandpapa, when I turn twenty-one I’ll have enough money to nab whomever I like, rich or destitute.’’
    Violet usually tried to be patient, but she couldn’t help gritting her teeth. ‘‘Thanks to providence, that won’t be for four years, by which time we can hope you will have grown up.’’
    ‘‘Girls,’’ Chrystabel warned. ‘‘That’s enough.’’ She turned to Violet. ‘‘Will you be taking Rowan to see the stars?’’
    ‘‘I’ll bring him,’’ Rose offered.
    Taking a cue from her husband, Chrystabel pretended not to hear. ‘‘Violet?’’
    ‘‘Yes, I’ll do it, Mum,’’ Violet said with an elaborate sigh.
    But it was mostly for show. She had to admit, she was curious to see the stars. And for some odd reason, she felt a need to save Ford from a frivolous girl like her sister. Not that she didn’t love Rose, but a man of his intellect deserved someone whose beauty was more than skin-deep.
    And it was very well done of him to have made Jewel write an apology, though she wondered how he could have neglected to supervise its contents before sending the letter.
    Hitching herself forward in one of the drawing room’s faded red chairs, Jewel jumped one of Ford’s checkers with hers and palmed her new captive. ‘‘Your turn. Will Rowan come tonight, do you think?’’
    ‘‘I know not whether he might come. I don’t understand children.’’
    ‘‘But Uncle Ford, you like children, don’t you?’’
    He’d never thought he had. But as he looked at his charming niece, he didn’t have the heart to say so. ‘‘I like you.’’ Studying his position on the black-and-white board, he lifted one of his dark-stained counters.
    ‘‘And I’d wager Rowan does, too,’’ he added to put a smile on her face. ‘‘He seemed much more