Violet (Flower Trilogy) by Lauren Royal

her?’’
    ‘‘Just that you made something from rocks. And I invited them to come with us tomorrow.’’ She grabbed Rowan’s hand. ‘‘Let’s go play in the garden.’’
    ‘‘Wait.’’ With an outstretched arm, Violet stopped her brother’s headlong rush. She looked to Ford. ‘‘Do you think we should let them go alone?’’
    Ford shrugged. ‘‘I’ll send Harry after them,’’ he said. ‘‘And if you’ll wait for me in the drawing room, I’ll bring the surprise.’’

    She watched the children leave in one direction and Ford go the other. The moment they were all out of sight, a little flutter erupted in her stomach. A surprise.
    When was the last time a man had given her a surprise?
    Never. Unless she counted her father, and most of his surprises involved flowers.
    Trying not to get her hopes up, Violet made her way through Lakefield’s now familiar corridor to the drawing room. She seated herself on the faded couch.
    She crossed her ankles. She uncrossed them. For the hundredth time since she’d met Ford, she told herself not to be ridiculous.
    ’Twas becoming a litany.
    She hadn’t long to wait before he entered, breathing heavily, as if he’d run from one end of the house to the other. Which she supposed he must have.
    He wasn’t holding anything, though. Disappointment welled up inside her—which was ridiculous.
    Then he drew something from his pocket—something small—and held it out, almost shyly.
    ‘‘I made this for you,’’ he said.
    She took it from him, turning it in her hands. Hardly a thing of beauty, it was two round, clear pieces of glass surrounded by some sort of wire. A little bridge connected them, and there were metal sticks on both sides.
    Puzzled, she looked up.
    ‘‘Spectacles,’’ he said. He slid onto the couch beside her, acting friendly, familiar. What little composure she had left completely fled.
    At her lack of response, his brow furrowed. ‘‘Have you not heard of spectacles? They are sometimes called eyeglasses.’’
    That jarred her out of her haze. Spectacles. Her mouth dropped open, and her breath caught in her chest. ‘‘I—of course I’ve heard of them, but . . .’’ More words wouldn’t come.
    ‘‘Would you like to try them on?’’

    ‘‘I . . . thank you,’’ she breathed.
    She truly was thankful. This was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her. But the sad truth was, she knew the spectacles were useless.
    She bit her lip. ‘‘I . . . I can read just fine. I know Rowan told you I cannot see very well, but ’tis the distance that is a blur. Printed pages look clear as day.
    But I sincerely appreciate—’’
    ‘‘No.’’ She’d expected him to look disappointed, but he was grinning instead. ‘‘These are not for reading, Violet.’’
    ‘‘They’re not?’’ Thrilled as she was at his unexpected thoughtfulness, her brain seemed to be muddled, not half because of his close proximity. ‘‘What are they for, then?’’
    ‘‘Spectacles for reading have convex lenses—they get fatter in the middle. These are concave, the opposite. The edges are thicker than the center. They will help you see in the distance.’’
    As she digested what he was saying, her hands started shaking. ‘‘What is all this metal?’’
    ‘‘Silver. To hold the lenses on your face. For reading, when a body is still, ’tis fine to hold a lens or balance a pair on your nose. But after I made these, it occurred to me that you may want to wear them and move around. So I devised the sidepieces to rest on your ears and hold them in place.’’
    He scooted even closer, so close she could smell his clean spicy scent. It made her lightheaded. Gently, he took the spectacles from her hands, narrowing his eyes as he gauged them compared to her features. ‘‘I will probably need to adjust them. You’ve a smaller face than I thought.’’
    She’d never thought of herself as small—any part of her. Lily was the small