Violet (Flower Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

dead vegetation off her skirts, Chrystabel smiled. She’d met Ford Chase before, but this visit had confirmed it. If ever there was a perfect man for Violet, it was the charming, slightly preoccupied, but brilliant Lord Lakefield. These two needed each other.
    Her daughters were dead set against her arranging their marriages, and well Chrystabel knew it.
    But a resourceful mother could always find a way.

Chapter Three
    ‘‘Wait here, Margaret,’’ Violet told her lady’s maid the next afternoon. ‘‘If all goes well, I’m going to leave Rowan and come back for him later.’’
    She stepped down from the carriage and grumbled all the way to the front door of the large, if somewhat shabby, Lakefield House. She couldn’t fathom how she’d ended up here, escorting her reluctant young brother to play with a strange little girl. Mum’s convoluted explanation had made sense at the time, but how was it that suddenly Rose and Lily both needed to be measured for gowns, and she didn’t? True, she hadn’t been clamoring for new clothes like they had—she’d never really cared about such things—but Mum had always been careful to treat her three girls evenly.
    At the bottom of the chipped stone stairs that led to the entry, she pulled Rowan out of the bushes where he was hiding. He promptly scurried to hide behind her instead. With a sigh, she mounted the steps and raised the knocker.
    Before she had a chance to bang it down, the door swung open, and she stumbled forward and almost fell into the house. She was saved from that indignity when a man’s hands clasped her shoulders. Very warm hands, holding her upright.
    He paused before pulling away. Impertinent, this footman, but she was only inches from his face, and oh my, he was handsome up close. She’d rarely seen a man up close—close enough to clearly see with her poor vision—but this one looked very good indeed.
    She felt herself sinking into brilliant blue eyes.
    ‘‘I—I’m—’’ She cleared her throat and tried again.
    ‘‘I’m here to see Lord Lakefield—’’
    ‘‘At your service.’’ He bowed. ‘‘Ford Chase,’’ he added in a deep voice. The sound of it made butterflies dance in her middle. ‘‘And you are . . . ?’’
    This was the viscount?
    He couldn’t be. ‘‘You’re not wearing a wig,’’ she said nonsensically.
    ‘‘Pardon?’’ He blinked. ‘‘None of the men in my family ever wear wigs.’’
    It was true her father often went wigless here in the country, but ever? Although, come to think of it, this man wasn’t wearing a footman’s livery either. And the last time she’d seen the viscount, she’d been a girl of only fifteen, but she remembered long, untidy brown hair and a harried expression.
    He looked rather harried today, too. He raked his fingers through his still-long hair, but it didn’t seem to help.
    And those eyes. She hadn’t noticed his eyes all those years ago . . . well, she’d probably never been close enough to properly see them. Aristotle had said that beauty is the gift of God. She wondered what this man could have done to be so deserving of the Lord’s favor.
    ‘‘And you are . . . ?’’ he repeated.
    She shook her head to clear it. ‘‘Violet Ashcroft.’’
    ‘‘The Earl of Trentingham’s daughter?’’ He looked slightly perplexed. ‘‘I expected your mother.’’
    ‘‘Well, you have me .’’ She was regaining her equilibrium. She was, after all, a very levelheaded woman.
    ‘‘And this is my brother, Rowan, who has come to claim the pleasure of meeting young Lady Jewel.’’
    The pleasure of meeting young Lady Jewel? Was this really her, babbling like a featherbrained courtier? She drew a deep breath and pulled her brother from behind her skirts.
    ‘‘Pleased to meet you, Lord Rowan.’’ The viscount gave him a proper, grave nod.
    Much more stoically than normal, Rowan bowed.
    ‘‘Uncle Ford!’’ A little girl came bounding up to the door, skidding to a