The Lass Who Kissed a Frog, Lee, Caroline [i have read the book a hundred times .txt] 📗

Her choice of story was a good one for these circumstances, but was it too complex for the girl’s first assignment?

Oh dear.

What’s done is done. Evangeline nodded firmly. “Seonag, get out the crystal ball, and there will be no inappropriateness, sisters. We just need to check in on the start of Willa’s story. If I don’t miss my guess, Vanessa, along with her mother and sister, should be arriving at Newfincy Castle just about…now.”

Chapter 1

“Vanessa, my darling, my angel, ye look just stunning.” Mother’s hand gently covered Vanessa’s. “Ye have nae need to fret.”

She hadn’t exactly been fretting, but Vanessa had been absently plucking one of the ribbons on her gown’s skirts. With her mother, Lady Machara Oliphant, patting her hand so comfortingly, Vanessa dragged her anxious gaze from where it had rested—the beautifully imposing Newfincy Castle, visible through the carriage’s window—and sent the baroness a smile.

“I ken, Mother. I’m no’ fretting. Honestly.”

“Know, darling, no’ ken. It is bad enough I was no’ able to attend a finishing school, or send ye and yer sister to one, but I’ll no’ have ye speaking like a complete barbarian all the same.”

“Nay, Mother,” Vanessa’s smile froze, and she wriggled her hand out from under the other woman’s to smooth down the imaginary wrinkles in her skirts. “I’ll try harder.”

“Och, ye have nae need to try harder, my angel. I shouldnae have said a word. Ye are already so anxious about seeing yer charming lord again, and ye look absolutely perfect.”

Well, that was true at least. Vanessa felt herself sitting taller under her mother’s praise. After all, her beauty was what had attracted Roland Prince, Viscount Blabloblal, and therefore, surely it was to be lauded.

She didn’t consider herself to be vain; she was just acknowledging a truth. She was the most beautiful lass born to the Oliphants in a generation, so why shouldn’t she be worthy of a prince? Or in this case, a viscount?

Aye, ye’re worth a viscount. Mother has often said as much.

Actually, Mother wanted Vanessa to marry the heir—Roland’s older brother—but she had no desire to yoke herself to such a hard man. Not only was he hideously scarred, but he spent his days skulking around the ruined old Oliphant Castle, barking and growling at his servants. She didn’t know anyone who’d actually spoken to the barbaric man, much less carried on a civilized conversation with him.

She would much rather marry his brother, Viscount Blabloblal, and enjoy the comforts of Newfincy Castle.

Her chin rose. And ye will. Ye will marry him because … “Who else could the most beautiful woman in the land marry, other than the most handsome prince?”

On the opposite bench, her sister snorted indelicately.

“Bonnibelle! What sort of ghastly noise was that?”

Doing a wonderful impression of having not been paying attention, Bonnie lowered her book and blinked at their mother. “I’m sorry, Mother? I was—”

“Reading, aye, I ken—I know it!” Mother scowled at her younger daughter. “Ye’ll ruin yer eyes, I’ve told ye a hundred times!”

Seeming not to be affected by their mother’s scolding, Bonnie placed the book upside down on her lap, then reached for her notebook and pencil. “Aye, Mother. A hundred times at least,” she murmured, making a notation.

“And have I told ye that many times a man will never want a woman who spends her days with her nose in a book? Oh, Bonnie, if only ye’d taken to embroidery or music, or even flower arranging, the way ye obsess over those silly auld books!”

“This is neither silly nor auld, Mother,” murmured Bonnie in return, still writing. “This is a history of the Highlands, published by Mr. Grimm in Inverness. Quite recent and utterly fascinating.” Before Mother could say anything else, Bonnie sent her and her sister a tight smile. “Books teach us things flower arranging cannae.”

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