The Lass Who Kissed a Frog

by Lee, Caroline

  Brava! Vanessa wanted to cry but knew from her mother’s sour look it would be unappreciated. Instead, she dipped her chin just slightly in her sister’s direction; her only acknowledgement of the superior volley.

  Attempting to change the subject, Vanessa asked, “Is this research, Bonnie? I thought yer book was complete?” She should know; she helped edit the thing.

  As they trotted into the courtyard of Newfincy Castle, Bonnie finished her notation and closed the notebook with a flourish. “That book is complete, aye, but I’m compiling notes for the next one. I believe a series of vignettes about Oliphant history would be well-regarded in certain circles—”

  “Oh, Bonnibelle,” their mother tittered, rolling her eyes. “A female author? Do ye honestly believe anyone will be purchasing these books from ye?”

  “No, Mother,” Bonnie said stiffly, as the carriage rocked to a stop. “I believe a publisher will purchase the rights to the books from me, then print my stories to share with the world.”

  Mother waved her hand dismissively. “It is hardly a proper sort of plan for a young lady. Ye’ll ruin yer eyesight and yer posture, hunched over those books, and no respectable publisher will agree to print—”

  “Mary Shelley, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters? There are dozens of women who’ve been writing and publishing books for the last century, Mother,” Bonnie was quick to argue.

  “Oh, those are novels,” Mother sniffed. “Novels hardly count. Men run the publishing business, my dear deluded darling daughter, and it is best to just accept the chances of success in that field are verra slim. Ah, finally!” she called, as the footman opened the door and offered his hand. “Coming, dears?”

  As Mother stood quickly to be the first to alight from the carriage, Vanessa glanced at Bonnie, who was scribbling something yet again in her notebook. When Bonnie caught her looking, she sent a wink.

  “Dear deluded darling daughter,” she whispered. “It was too good no’ to record.”

  Vanessa smothered a giggle, knowing Mother wouldn’t approve. But when she and Bonnie were both standing upright on the perfectly maintained stones of Newfincy’s front walk, she shared a secret smile with her sister.

  “Come along, lassies,” Mother called as she swept toward the front steps. “It isnae every day we receive an invitation to tea with lords.”

  Knowing what was expected of her, Vanessa planted a soft smile on her face—one she knew made her look approachable and demure, because she’d spent hours practicing it in front of a mirror—and followed.

  “Why are ye so nervous?” whispered her sister, as she tucked her notebook into a hidden pocket and stepped up beside her. “Dinnae deny it. I ken ye better than Mother does, remember?”

  “I’m no—” Realizing she was about to deny it, Vanessa’s smile slipped for a moment. “I just dinnae want to do anything to ruin my chances with Roland.” The reminder of the masquerade ball earlier in the season, and how the two of them had not only danced beautifully together, but had also snuck away for some quiet conversation, made her sigh happily. “He’s perfect, Bonnie,” she whispered as the butler opened the door ahead, “and I think I might love him.”

  “Ye love the idea of him,” her sister corrected.

  As if that mattered.

  Vanessa sighed again. “Aye, I believe I do.” The idea of Roland and Roland. “I want him to love me too.”

  Apparently, their mother was listening, because as the butler led them through the echoing foyer of Newfincy Castle, she turned just long enough to hiss over her shoulder, “Of course he’ll love ye. Ye’re beautiful! He came to tea, did he no’?”

  Luckily, she’d turned back away, the fake smile plastered on her face, and Vanessa didn’t have to answer. Instead, she exchanged glances with Bonnie and knew her sister was thinking the same thing.

  Roland had come for tea, only a week after they’d danced at the ball, and had brought Max DeVille—who was now married to their stepsister, Ember—as well. But despite Mother’s attempts to pretend everything was wonderful, Roland had been distinctly cold throughout the social niceties, and had left not long after Mr. DeVille had excused himself.

  And Vanessa was terrified she knew the reason why.

  “Ladies.” Two men stood when the butler led them into the parlor, but only one was smiling. And it wasn’t the one who’d spoken, which was Roland Prince. “Thank ye for joining us.”

  “Of course, Viscount Blah-blah-blah!” Mother tittered as she dipped into a deep curtsey. “We are honored.”

  “Blabloblal,” corrected Roland under his breath, his expression carefully blank.

  It wasn’t until Bonnie followed their mother that Vanessa remembered her manners and forced herself to stop looking at Roland long enough to curtsey as well.

  He’d stepped up to Mother’s side and was leading her toward the little arrangement of chairs facing a cold hearth. “Lady Machara, Baroness Oliphant, may I present my brother, Mr. Phineas Prince?”

  “Ye most certainly can!” Mother winked at Roland, her outrageous flirting curling something deep in Vanessa’s stomach. “But a mere ‘mister’? Oh dear,” she pretended to bemoan, as she offered the youngest Prince brother her hand. “I was certain such a handsome Prince as yerself would be a lord.”

  “Alas,” quipped Phineas stiffly as he bowed over Mother’s hand. “I am one of those bores who believes the future of humanity rests in knowledge and study, and thus I am content with my lack of title.”

  “How amusing! Ye must meet my youngest daughter, Bonnibelle! Bonnie, come meet the delightful Mr. Prince! Ye two can bore one another!”

  As she laughed at her own joke, Mother missed the way the faces around her went carefully blank at her insult, though Vanessa didn’t react at all, because she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from Roland’s eyes.

  When he turned to her, she was quick to arrange her expression into the smile she knew made her look beautiful, yet approachable. He studied her for a moment longer than was necessary, making her feel as if he weren’t quite impressed with her efforts.

  Finally, he inclined his head, and Vanessa felt herself begin to breathe again.

  “Miss Oliphant,” he murmured politely, as he took her hand. “We meet again.”

  It wasn’t a “I’m so glad we’ve met again,” or “Of course we’d meet again, since I invited ye after all,” or even a “What in the hell are ye doing here, so that we could meet again?” It was just a simple statement, and Vanessa found herself floundering in intentions.

  “Aye, milord.” She remembered to keep her voice breathy and alluring, the way Mother said men preferred. “Thank ye so much for having us. This is the highlight of our week.”

  He straightened but didn’t release her hand. His touch, the way it had in the past, sent little shivers of delicious warmth through her, and she felt as if she could spend the rest of her life holding his hand, despite the layer of soft glove she wore. When she felt his thumb trace a small circle across the backs of her fingers, she wanted to drop her gaze to confirm, but couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.

  And the way he was looking at her.

  Despite the warmth of his touch, his gaze was…closed off. Not at all the open and laughing young man she’d danced and flirted with at the ball. But at least it wasn’t the icy anger she’d felt from him when he’d come to the inn for tea.

  “Aye,” he finally murmured, and when she shifted frantically through her memory to the last thing said, she bristled at his agreement. As if this should be the highlight of her week.

  With a faint sniff and telling herself it didn’t matter how nice his touch felt, she pulled her hand from Roland’s and straightened her shoulders. Surprisingly, his lips curled upward at her haughtiness, but it wasn’t a warm smile.

  He inclined his head once more. “Tea, Miss Oliphant?”

  When he gestured to the collection of chairs where Bonnie and his brother were already speaking animatedly about something-or-other, she
lifted her chin and swept past him, her stomach all in knots.

  Why was he acting this way? She studied him surreptitiously as she poured the tea and was disconcerted to find him watching her. Oh, she was used to men looking at her, but Roland was studying. Noting her every move…judging. She could feel his regard and didn’t care for the sensation.

  Mainly, because she was worried he might not like what he saw.

  “Now, it is a fallacy to believe the Romans never journeyed into Scotland, or as it was called then, Caledonia.” Phineas saluted Bonnie with his cup. “Although there are no major installations—”

  “What about Hadrian’s Wall?” demanded Bonnie, clearly enjoying whatever in the world they were discussing.

  Mother was clearly at a loss. “Dinnae interrupt the gentleman, Bonnie.”

  But Phineas just shook his head and smiled, obviously delighted to have someone willing to listen to him. “The wall is a fine example of engineering, of course, but Roman ruins have been found as far north as Forth.” He chuckled slightly. “The River Forth I mean of course.”

  “Of course,” murmured Roland, still staring at Vanessa.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “More tea, milord?” she asked, trying to distract him.

  “Nay. Mine is delicious.”

  He hadn’t touched the cup she’d been forced to set in front of him.

  Willing her hands to stop shaking, Vanessa carefully leaned forward and placed her own cup and saucer on the small table across from his. Then she smoothed her palms over her skirts and told herself there was no reason for a man’s scrutiny to make her feel so—so—bare. She was beautiful, was she not? It was no wonder he would stare at her so.

  But the truth was, she was afraid he was studying her for another reason entirely. The same reason his hazel eyes were no longer warm and full of laughter when they met hers.

  When he and Mr. DeVille had taken tea at the inn, Vanessa was rather afraid of what they might’ve overheard.

  It had been only a week after the ball, and Bonnie had been teasing her about Mother’s plans. Mother had always dreamed of Vanessa becoming Lady Oliphant—not a Lady Oliphant, as Mother herself was, but The Lady Oliphant, married to the next laird—and Vanessa was horrified by the prospect.

  Not just because it would mean not being able to marry Roland and live Happily Ever After, as the heroines did in Bonnie’s books, but because of who the heir was. It wasn’t just his scars which made Lyon Prince unapproachable, but the fact he treated everyone so coldly since the death of his wife.

  Vanessa would rather be married to—to Phineas than the Beast of the Oliphants.

  Unfortunately, when Bonnie had teased her about such a possibility, Vanessa had snapped back rather cruelly. She hadn’t just insulted the man’s appearance—which he couldn’t control, not really—but his cold heartlessness. She hadn’t been overly loud, but she’d insulted the heir quite thoroughly until Bonnie understood the depths of her dislike.

  And then, when they’d stepped farther down the hall, they’d realized the door to the parlor where Roland sat had been propped open.

  She wasn’t certain he’d heard any of her words, but the guilt had been eating at her since that day. When they’d received the invitation to tea at Newfincy Castle, she’d spent the day rejoicing, believing that meant Roland was still very much interested in her. But now, seeing his neutral regard, she wasn’t sure what to think.

  Bonnie and Phineas were still contentedly debating the history of southern Scotland, and Mother was stewing because, as Phineas was the host, she couldn’t very well suggest a change of subject which would appeal to her more. Vanessa was content to listen to their discussion, as it gave her a chance to look somewhere besides Roland.

  And despite Mother’s teachings, she was pleased to not be the center of attention for once.

  “—the cleverest feat of engineering really,” Phineas was saying, gesturing with his hands. “They were capped by these small spheres, no bigger than a hands’ width, constructed of all sorts of different materials.”

  “Oh!” Bonnie’s eyes widened. “I just saw a sketch of one of those…in the book I was reading in the carriage, Mother.”

  “Oh delightful,” murmured their mother, sipping her tea archly.

  How did one manage to archly sip tea? Well, however Mother had done it, she’d done it smashingly.

  Bonnie turned back to Phineas. “The sketch was labeled ‘Sphaera’ and portrayed one made from steel.”

  “Indeed. Can ye imagine the blacksmith asked to create a sphaera like that? I’ll wager the machinists at Oliphant Engineering could whip one up without trouble on their lathes, but during the Roman period? The spheres were made from precious material as well.”

  “Gold?” Mother asked, finally interested in the conversation.

  Well of course. Mother, proprietress of The Oliphant Inn, despite her lofty title and ambitions, was always interested in money.

  “Gold, aye, and silver too.” Roland’s brother was beaming. “I have a silver one in my collection actually. I would be delighted to show ye later—”

  “No, Phin,” growled Roland.

  His younger brother seemed disconcerted for a moment, then blinked and shrugged. “Aye, no’ now. My apologies. But my goal is to acquire one of gold. I have been searching through the catalogs and among the antiquity dealers, but to no avail. A shame.” He sighed and sat back against his chair. “I would pay a pretty penny for such an artifact.”

  Mother’s laugh was brittle. “A golden ball would be worth a pretty penny anywhere, Mr. Prince!”

  “Aye, but I would pay ten times its intrinsic value due to its antique state.”

  “Really, Mr. Prince—”

  Bonnie interrupted their mother. “The artifact’s value as an artifact would greatly overshadow its value in gold, Mother.”

  The way the older woman sniffed and sipped at her tea made it clear she wasn’t at all interested in hearing more about Phineas’s artifact collection.

  “Vanessa!” Mother’s sharp call startled Vanessa so much, she actually jumped, but did her best to arrange her features into a vaguely curious smile as she met her mother’s eyes. “Do ye have anything to add to this fascinating discussion?”

  Before Vanessa could answer—not that she was doing much more than murmuring, “That sounds fascinating”—her mother had turned back to Phineas and was saying with utmost confidence, “My eldest daughter is as intelligent as her sister, but kens nae man likes to have his nose rubbed in it, so she—”

  To Vanessa’s—and Mother’s—surprise, Phineas interrupted her. “On the contrary, Baroness Oliphant. In my family, we value education and would never think of belittling a person just because she enjoys learning as much as we do.” The look he turned on Roland was almost angry, as if urging him to participate. “Isn’t that right, brother?”

  As all eyes—including Vanessa’s—turned to him, Roland lazily crossed one leg over the other and nodded, his gaze still glued to Vanessa. She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat like a naughty child. “That is correct, Phin. Our sister Raina spent several years at Twittingham Academy—a finishing school in England.”

  “Aye, well, it didnae do her much good, did it?” muttered Mother.

  Bonnie and Vanessa both sucked in gasps at their mother’s poor manners to mention The Scandal, and Roland finally—finally—turned his cold gaze from Vanessa. “What was that, Baroness Oliphant?”

  For a moment, Mother looked uncomfortable, and while Vanessa knew it would be cruel to rejoice in another’s discomfort, at least she wasn’t the one pinned under Roland’s glare anymore.

  But Mother wouldn’t be Mother without the ability to brush off any judgement which didn’t meet her standards. She regained her equilibrium remarkably quickly. “Oh, poo, Lord Blah-blah-blah! I’m certain ye understand I mean nae disrespect to yer family. But ye have to admit Twittingham Academy didnae accomplish exactly what was necessary when it came to y
er sister, aye?”

  “Raina is an intelligent, brave, strong-minded young lady, and I admire her greatly,” Roland bit out coldly.

  “She’s no’ exactly the model of propriety a young lady should aspire to be,” Mother pointed out, and Vanessa wanted to groan.

  Surely Mother could tell Roland wasn’t in a good mood today? Why in the world was she continuing to antagonize him?

  Was she the only one who could see Roland’s hands tightening on the arms of his chair? Was he about to launch himself across the tea setting to strangle her mother?

  “I’m certain ye all must love yer nephew verra much!” Vanessa burst out, the only thing she could think to do to defuse the situation. Unfortunately, her attempt only drew Roland’s attention back onto her once more.

  His changeable eyes were bright with anger when he raked his gaze over her. “Indeed,” he finally bit out, and she could see him relaxing his hold as he inhaled slowly. “Wee Ewan is a wonderful lad.”

  “Aye,” agreed Phineas stiffly. “We’re all quite protective of him. And his mother.”

  Vanessa was certain they were all meant to hear the warning in the youngest Prince brother’s tone, but Mother sniffed again as she leaned forward to place her empty cup delicately on the table.

  “Really, Vanessa, bringing up such a topic in polite company. I thought ye kenned better than that.”

  Her scold might be half-hearted, but Vanessa did her best to hide her incredulity—and hurt—that her mother would blame her for such a faux pas.

  Luckily, Roland came to her rescue. “Why no’ tell us more about yer collection, Phin?” he suggested.

  As Phineas launched into a description of his most recent Roman acquisition, Vanessa felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. She exhaled and sent Roland a grateful smile.

  But his hard stare told her he hadn’t forgiven her for whatever she’d done wrong.

  Chapter 2

  “That could’ve gone better.”

  “Nay, Broca. It is all part of the story, remember? The lovers have to have a falling out now in order to make the enemies-to-lovers part of the story work.”