Free Violet (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal Page B

fond of you after your jest. That was brilliant, baby. You certainly know your way to a young man’s heart.’’
    Click-click-click. Three diagonal jumps over her natural wood pieces, and his darker man was at her end of the board. ‘‘King me,’’ he said with a self-satisfied smile.
    Draughts. He was reduced to playing draughts. And she’d beaten him three times already. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had beaten him at draughts; he must have been seven years old.
    For all his intentions to come home to Lakefield and bury himself in intellectual pursuits, the opposite seemed to be happening. He was concentrating on children and fretting over his shabby estate. Rather than unlocking the secrets of the universe, his efforts were focused on convincing a lady named Violet to spend as much time here as possible.
    Jewel crowned his piece with one of the hostages she’d taken. They both looked up as Hilda came in.
    ‘‘Where is Harry?’’ the housekeeper demanded. ‘‘He seems to have disappeared.’’
    Ford shrugged. ‘‘I know not.’’ There didn’t seem to be much he knew these days.
    ‘‘He went to Rowan’s house,’’ Jewel said nonchalantly, jumping two more of his men.
    Hilda smoothed her wide white apron. ‘‘And why is that?’’

    ‘‘I asked him to take a letter there.’’
    ‘‘A letter?’’ Raking his fingers through his hair, Ford frowned at the board, where his pieces seemed to be disappearing at an alarming rate.
    ‘‘A letter to Rowan,’’ his niece clarified. ‘‘An ap-ap—’’ She glared at him, as though daring him to help her. ‘‘An a-pol-o-gy.’’
    ‘‘You wrote a letter?’’ Hilda asked.
    ‘‘You wrote a letter?’’ Ford echoed. ‘‘All by yourself?’’
    ‘‘Well, I know how to write, you know. Mama taught me. What is so hard about that?’’
    Ford took his turn, removing none of Jewel’s pieces.
    ‘‘ ’Tis not the writing of it, baby, ’tis thinking to do so in the first place. I’m very impressed.’’
    ‘‘Mama says even a tomboy should have good manners.’’
    ‘‘I like the way your mother thinks,’’ Hilda said.
    ‘‘Besides, I like getting letters. Nobody ever sends me letters.’’ Melting at her pout, Ford made a mental note to send her a letter after she went home. ‘‘I thought a letter might make Rowan like me.’’
    ‘‘He likes you,’’ came a voice from the doorway.
    Harry walked in, his florid face split by a big smile.
    Suddenly Hilda’s face wore a frown instead. ‘‘You could tell me when you leave,’’ she scolded, then immediately bustled out past him.
    ‘‘Women,’’ Harry muttered. ‘‘Always so demanding.’’ He turned to Jewel with a courtly bow. ‘‘Present company excepted, of course.’’
    Ford stared. Clearly the girl had won him over. Just as she had Rowan.
    She looked so innocent in her powder blue gown.
    So young and vulnerable. But his niece apparently had fully developed her feminine wiles and ingenuity.
    Jewel bounced on the ancient chair, so hard he feared it might break. ‘‘What did Rowan say?’’
    ‘‘Well, I didn’t talk to him, you understand.’’ Harry related the information as seriously as if he were a hired spy. ‘‘But his sister came out and said he would visit after dark to see the stars.’’
    Jewel squealed and wriggled in her chair, so excited she botched her next few moves.
    As a consequence, Ford won the game, though he too felt a twinge of excitement. He realized he was looking forward to the visit of the boy—and his intriguing older sister.

Chapter Seven
    Rowan climbed into the carriage and motioned his sister after him. ‘‘Hurry, Violet. ’Tis dark already.’’
    ‘‘The sky isn’t going away.’’ Still amazed his attitude had reversed so quickly, Violet took her cloak from her mother and settled the forest green velvet over her shoulders. ‘‘Where is Margaret?’’
    ‘‘I gave her the evening off, dear.