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

serious once more, as he bowed correctly, despite the informal address.

“Milord,” murmured Bonnie in acknowledgement, before glancing at Vanessa, who was too overwhelmed to do more than nod.

Mother, of course, took command. “Welcome, welcome, Viscount Blah-blah-blah! How lovely to have ye here!”

Stiffly, Roland turned to her. “Blabloblal, Madam. My estate is Blabloblal. I am Roland Albert McAdam Gregor Prince, Viscount Blabloblal.”

Oh. His name really was Albert and Adam?

The long-ago teasing made Vanessa’s heart a little lighter, although her stomach still churned in nervousness.

Mother tittered a laugh at what she must’ve considered an irrelevant detail and waved her hand dismissively. “Of course, my dear viscount! Ye ken how difficult it is to recall titles and such, when I’d much rather call ye son.” Her gaze turned calculating. “I shall call for tea immediately, and we can have a nice, long visit—”

“Nay.” Roland didn’t even soften his rudeness with one of his charming grins. Instead, he held up his hand to Mother, palm-out. “I have nae need for tea, and what I am here to say, I will say only to yer daughter.”

Vanessa’s heart began to pound faster. He wanted to speak to her alone?

Because what he had to say was so bad…or good?

Her mother was flustered but recovered quickly. “Oh, Lord Blob-low-ball, yer wit is so amusing! Insinuating I would allow something so unproper as my unwed daughter to be alone with ye—nae matter how upstanding and proper I’m certain ye—”

“Then her sister may stay as a chaperone,” Roland interrupted again. “But ye, madam, will remove yerself from this parlor.”

This was the viscount, used to command and control, and so different from the easy-going traveler on the train to York, even if he had admitted to being grumpy because she’d taken charge. But Vanessa hadn’t minded; she didn’t need to be in control all the time, although it had been freeing to share command.

Mother gasped in outrage, one hand pressed to her chest as she hesitated, obviously torn between taking offense and giving into Roland’s demands because, well…viscount.

Eventually, the whole leaving-Vanessa-alone-with-a-viscount-might-result-in-her-becoming-a-viscountess thing won over propriety, and Mother sniffed, “Well, I never,” even as she stepped toward the door.

“Aye, ye never,” Roland said, dropping his hands to his side and taking two steps toward her. “Ye never think of Vanessa, much less Bonnie. Their accomplishments only serve to highlight what ye want and further yer goals. Well, let me tell ye this much, Baroness Oliphant…” He lowered his chin, and his voice. “If I should ever become yer son-in-law, ye and yer influence will be staying far away from Vanessa. I’ll no’ have ye poisoning her anymore, and I’ll no’ have ye stay here to listen when I beg her apology.”

“Oh, bravo,” murmured Bonnie.

Vanessa’s knees went weak, and she wasn’t even certain how Mother reacted to that glorious, horrible, remarkable burst of passion from the man Vanessa was now certain she loved. In fact, if Bonnie hadn’t helped her to the settee, Vanessa was afraid she might’ve collapsed right there into a puddle of goo on the parlor floor.

Wait a moment.

“If I should ever become yer son-in-law…”

What was that supposed to mean?

Her gaze snapped up, suddenly unsure if she should’ve been flattered or angered by his defense of her. She saw her sister had stepped away from the settee and was wringing her hands as she looked between Vanessa and Roland. And Roland was looking a bit uncertain himself.

The door closed on her mother’s angry huff, and he blew out a breath. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, wincing. “I’m sorry for many things, but perhaps I shouldnae have been so harsh. She’s yer mother after all.”

“She needed to be told,” Bonnie blurted. When both of them glanced at her, she shrugged. “Everything ye said was true, Lord Blabloblal. I’ve said it before, Mother’s manipulations and her way of spoiling and rewarding Vanessa for something she cannae control is what ultimately muddled up her brain— And ye ken what? I’ll just sit over there in that corner with my mouth shut,” she finished weakly, as they both continued to stare at her.

“Actually, Bonnie,” Vanessa began in a small voice, “I think it might be best if Lord Blabloblal said whatever he has to say to me…in private.”

“Please call me Roland.” There was a yearning in his eyes when Vanessa met them, but he quickly cleared his throat and glanced at Bonnie to include her. “Ye too. We are to be family.”

“Are we?” Bonnie lifted a brow. “Are ye?” she asked Vanessa.

Is that what Roland had meant?

“Did ye come to propose marriage then?” Her voice was dull, empty, unsure how she should feel about this.

There’d been a time, only a month ago, when marriage to Roland Prince, Viscount Blabloblal, was all she’d ever wanted. She’d been so certain she was in love with the man and had dreamed of becoming his viscountess.

But now she realized she’d been in love with…well, with the idea of becoming a viscountess, not Roland himself.

It had taken an adventure with a different man—one who’d allowed her to see her true self—to show her the truth. She could love a man, regardless of what he looked like or what his title was. She could love a man for himself.

As she loved her Froggie. As she loved Roland.

Bonnie made a noise which might’ve been a chuckle, might’ve been a cough. When Vanessa glanced at her, she winked and offered them both a little curtsey.

“Propriety demands I offer tea again, so perhaps I’ll run along to the kitchens and ask for a tray. That should leave ye two some time alone.”

“Dinnae run,” Vanessa told her. “Walk.”

“Walk slowly,” Roland added.

Bonnie was grinning when she slipped from the door, and as soon as she did, Roland let out another great sigh and scrubbed his hand over his face.

Before Vanessa could comment on being left alone with him, he spoke instead. “I should’ve come earlier, Vanessa, but I kenned if I didnae prove to ye how sorry I was, ye’d never believe me.”

She pushed