The Lass Who Kissed a Frog Read online

  Vanessa waved her hand as she settled on the cool stones, knowing she’d cleaned them well enough there was no chance of dirtying her skirts and hearing her mother’s anger later. “I told ye, she was busy berating Annie in the front parlor. We should be safe for a half hour at least.”

  With a sigh, her sister settled onto her favorite bench and plopped her book on her lap. “I don’t think either of us realized just how much Ember did for us until she left.”

  Vanessa nodded mournfully. “I honestly had nae idea so much work went into keeping the inn running. I ken Ember mostly attended to us and Mother—”

  “At least ye’re willing to help with the washing these days,” Bonnie teased, flipping through her pages and looking for her bookmark. “Mother has the maids running ragged from adding on all the new chores now that Ember’s gone.”

  “Well, we cannae verra well force the lasses to work double without more pay, can we?”

  “Why no’? That is what we expected from Ember, was it no’?”

  Vanessa sighed and rested her head against the ivy-covered post. “Aye,” she murmured, the knot of shame still twisting her gut.

  It seemed she had plenty to be ashamed of these days.

  When Ember’s father had married Mother—second marriages for both of them—Vanessa had been thrilled to get another sister. But, as Mother explained, Ember wasn’t a lady. She wasn’t important. Therefore, after her father’s death, it was perfectly natural to give Ember more responsibilities—of the dirty, back-breaking kind—to make sure she had her own place in the world.

  It wasn’t until she’d left that Vanessa truly understood what that meant. Mother had used Ember as an unpaid drudge, and their stepsister had accepted the role, until she could break free.

  Now Mother was frantically trying to get by—at the same level of ease and comfort as before—without having to pay another worker. This meant Vanessa and Bonnie were taking on more tasks and avoiding Mother’s anger when she realized her precious princesses were being forced to work.

  “Well?” Vanessa prodded, closing her eyes. “Get on with it.”

  Her sister chuckled. “Ye will make a great lady in a castle someday. Mother’s lessons in imperiousness have worked. Where were we? Oh, aye, The Frog Princess.”

  As Bonnie read the old fairy tale, Vanessa allowed her mind to wander. A great lady in a castle? That had been her dream.

  But the dream had changed when she’d danced with Roland Prince. Oh, she’d danced with him because he was a viscount, but she’d begun dreaming about a forever with him after she’d felt the tingle in her arm from his touch, and the way the sparkle in his warm hazel eyes made her breathless. And when he’d leaned in, close enough she thought he might kiss her, Vanessa had almost swallowed her tongue in anticipation.

  Aye, Roland had become her dream, and not because he had a castle and almost five thousand pounds yearly.

  Although, of course, that helped. At least where Mother was concerned.

  But the way he’d treated her at tea last week—the anger and accusation she’d seen in his eyes as the afternoon had gone on…?

  Vanessa wrapped her arms around her middle.

  It was clear. Roland Prince was no longer interested in her, and she could guess why.

  “Vanessa.” It wasn’t until Bonnie called her name that she realized the story was over. “Do ye recall when we were both young coming out here to catch frogs?”

  Vanessa’s eyes shot open, and she gasped. “Nay, I’d forgotten that!” Glad for the distraction, she sat upright, a smile blooming. “That was back when Father was still alive, remember? He’d take us on his knees and kiss us and call us his ‘bonnie lasses,’ and we’d come out here to play!”

  “Ye were the best at catching frogs. Ye didnae have to sneak up on them.” Bonnie giggled. “I used to think they were transfixed by yer beauty.”

  “Maybe they were.” Vanessa wasn’t being vain; she knew she was beautiful. She’d been told so often enough. “But aye, I’d forgotten how it felt to just be able to walk up to them and scoop them up.”

  “And do ye remember kissing them?”

  Gasping again, Vanessa shifted on the well-stones to face her sister. “Nay! I’d forgotten that too! We’d…kiss them?”

  “Aye!” Laughing, her sister closed the book. “In the hopes one might turn into a prince.”

  “Lord help me, I remember now!” Vanessa whispered, wide-eyed. “I was certain it was only a matter of time. Look at this place! There were so many frogs, I just knew one of them had to be a prince.”

  Bonnie sighed. “That was before we knew about real princes, I suppose.”

  Her expression souring once more, Vanessa peered down into the distant depths of the well. “Sometimes I suspect a frog would make a better prince than the ones we’ve met.”

  A frog, at least, wouldn’t be offended when she said something cruel.

  Well, at least ye’re recognizing what ye said was cruel.

  “Sometimes I suspect a frog would make a better husband,” Bonnie corrected.

  Well, that earned a surprised burst of laughter from Vanessa, who turned an incredulous look on her sister. “What do ye mean?” she asked, with a hint of laughter in her tone.

  Bonnie shrugged. “He’d be easy to feed—nae complaining about whatever menu ye decided on.”

  “Ha! Bugs are simple, I suppose.” Vanessa was warming to the joke. “And I suppose he wouldnae take up too much room in bed.”

  Bonnie’s nose wrinkled. “Ew! But at least he would no’ mind a wife who spoke her mind.”

  “Or a wife who monopolized a conversation!”

  Giggling, Bonnie tilted her head to one side. “I suppose any conversation would be monopolized by us in that scenario, huh? It would be a bit one-sided.”

  “Dinnae be silly! Our slimy green husbands would be able to say, ‘Ribbit-ribbit,’ whenever they had something to add to the discussion.”

  “Hah! We’d have to rely on each other and our friends for meaningful conversations, I suppose.” Bonnie was shaking her head.

  “Aye, but there’d be compensations.” Vanessa wiggled her brows lewdly, and her sister’s eyes opened wide.

  “Och, of course! Why did I no’ think of that? There’s always…”

  Together, they both finished that thought. “His tongue!”

  Vanessa dissolved into giggles, while Bonnie wrinkled her nose again, as if she’d smelled something foul. But she couldn’t hide the small smile on her lips, and Vanessa took that as a win.

  As her laughter subsided, Vanessa tilted her head back against the post and closed her eyes. Marriage to a frog might sound nice to Bonnie, for the reasons she’d mentioned—minus the tongue reference of course—but that wasn’t what Vanessa wanted from her husband. She didn’t want a marriage where she never spoke to her husband, or where she expected him to leave her alone to follow her own goals.

  She wanted a partnership: someone who would support her and whom she could support in return. Someone with whom to discuss their goals and achievements, and plans for their future.

  Until she’d met Roland Prince and realized exactly how well the two of them fit together, she’d thought her dream highly unlikely. If Mother had her way, Vanessa would be married to the most eligible bachelor in Scotland, because she was the most beautiful maiden around.

  She supposed she was just lucky the most eligible bachelor in Scotland was Roland.

  Too bad she’d ruined her chances with him.

  After a moment, she realized she’d been sitting there moping in silence, and Bonnie hadn’t said anything further. Vanessa peeked open one eye and glanced over to where her sister sat.

  Bonnie was carefully removing the piece of correspondence she’d been using as a bookmark. There was something in her sister’s expression which made Vanessa pause, and she watched in silence as Bonnie unfolded the letter and began to read.

  The paper had obviously been read several times before, and
it wasn’t until she saw her sister bite her lower lip—a childhood habit none of Mother’s nagging had been able to cure Bonnie of—that Vanessa realized just how bad the news was.

  “Bonnie?”

  When her sister looked up, and Vanessa saw the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes, she gasped out, “Oh, Bonnie!” and slid from atop the old well. “What is it?” she asked as she hurried across the garden.

  But her sister didn’t answer, even when Vanessa settled on the bench beside her. She hesitated only a moment before wrapping her arm around Bonnie’s shoulders and pulling her closer.

  “What’s wrong, Bonnie? Another rejection?”

  “Aye,” sniffed Bonnie. “I ken I shouldnae be upset each time. The Lord kens I’ve had enough Nay-thank-ye-for-yer-submission-but-we-cannae-publish-a-scholarly-work-by-a-woman letters to last a lifetime.”

  “But that doesnae mean they hurt less when ye receive one.” Vanessa pulled a hankie from her sleeve and passed it to her sister. “Let me read this one.”

  “This one is the worst because I really thought Grimm & Son was my best chance. They’ve published books written by women before after all! And they took so long to respond, I thought surely I’d be receiving an acceptance from them.”

  “Oh, Bonnie.” Vanessa’s heart broke to hear the despair in her sister’s voice. “I’m so sorry.”

  When Bonnie offered the letter, Vanessa removed her arm from her sister’s shoulders and sat up straighter.

  “Miss Oliphant … thrilled to receive yer offer … yer hard work and research … time investment…’” she murmured as she read. “…would definitely be interested in reading an excerpt… Bonnie, this doesnae sound like bad news!”

  “Keep reading,” came her sister’s dull reply.

  Frowning, Vanessa lifted the letter to read the second paragraph. “Unfortunately, I am sad to announce I will be selling the publishing house my father and I built. Although I am proud of my efforts to diversify the offerings to Edinburgh’s educated classes—indeed, the world!—I have reached an age when I can nae longer successfully manage such a business.”

  Understanding her sister’s feeling of hopelessness, Vanessa quietly tsked and read the rest of the letter to herself. Mr. Grimm again apologized, saying Bonnie’s manuscript would be of great interest to him, but since he was still looking for a buyer, he couldn’t in good conscience offer for it.

  “Oh, how kind of him, he even included the amount of money he’s asking for this publishing house,” she muttered sarcastically, “in case we ken of anyone interested in purchasing.”

  Beside her, Bonnie stilled. Vanessa glanced over just in time to see her sister explode from her seat and slam her book down on the bench.

  “Bonnie?”

  “Sometimes I wish I could buy the publishing house!” her sister burst out, before whirling around and pacing toward the well. “I could publish my book then, aye, but also books by other women! I wouldnae even worry about trying to sell to men, because I have the brains to ken there are enough ladies out there who like to read, and I could sell to them.”

  Vanessa’s brow rose. “Oh, certainly. I can imagine a publishing house for ladies would be quite successful. Ye could publish cookery, and novels, and advice on child-rearing—”

  Bonnie whirled back around, pointing one long finger at Vanessa’s nose. “And physics and history and poems! No’ all ladies have fluff between their ears!”

  Vanessa’s second brow joined the first, making her feel a bit like a wide-eyed fish. “Ye are correct, of course. If ye owned a publishing house, ye could print yer own book, which isnae fluff at all. None of yer work is.”

  “Aye.” Mollified, Bonnie’s shoulders slumped. “But I cannae even convince a house to print it. So how can I get enough money to buy a publishing house?”

  Shrugging, Vanessa planted one palm on the stone beside her and leaned her weight on it. “Ye could marry well.”

  “I’m no’ marrying.” Her sister scowled. “Why would I want to tie myself to one place, when there’s a whole world to see out there? Remember the trips we used to take to the south of Scotland to visit Great-Aunt Gertrude in that grand estate of hers? It had such a silly name, remember? Fangfoss Manor.” She planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head back to stare up at the ancient oak shading them. “So many different places and people and sights,” she murmured. “I want to write about them all. I dinnae want to stay here at the inn for the rest of my days.”

  “If ye marry, ye wouldnae be at the inn,” Vanessa pointed out, unhelpfully, she realized, when Bonnie turned a disbelieving look her way. She pushed herself upright. “Well, it is true. Marriage could allow ye to travel—away from here at least, although I’d miss ye greatly.”

  “Owning my own publishing house would allow me the same thing. I’d have to travel all over Scotland, and beyond, searching for new submissions and authors. And then again to search out new avenues to sell the books.”

  Would her husband allow such a thing? Vanessa couldn’t think of any man who would be—

  Luckily, before she could open her mouth to state such a thing, her brain caught up with her tongue, grabbed hold of it, and gave it a stern talking-to, reminding her Bonnie was saying she didn’t need a husband, and maybe she should consider smiling and nodding instead.

  Vanessa smiled tightly and nodded.

  Well-done.

  Her sister was eying her suspiciously. “Are ye feeling alright?”

  “Hm? Oh, aye. Fine, fine.”

  Bonnie took two hesitant steps toward the bench. “Except…ye havenae tried to talk me out of it. Ye havenae tried to tell me marriage is every woman’s dream.”

  Vanessa shrugged again. “It’s my dream, but it doesnae have to be yer dream.”

  Clucking her tongue, Bonnie took the last few steps to the bench, then sank down beside her once more. Vanessa thought she might be sitting on her book, but when Bonnie took her hands, she forgot to mention it.

  “Oh, Vanessa. Are ye certain marriage is yer dream?”

  What a preposterous question. “Of course it is! I’ve always dreamed of marrying a prince—”

  “That’s Mother’s dream for ye,” Bonnie interrupted, then squeezed her fingers until Vanessa looked up. “No’ yers.”

  “Dinnae be silly.” Vanessa scoffed. “Remember why ye started reading those stories to me in the first place and why I kissed so many frogs? Because I wanted to find my True Love! I want to fall in love and ken he loves me and—”

  “That is verra different from marrying well, and ye ken it, Vanessa Oliphant. I remember how much fun ye used to have visiting Great-Aunt Gertie. Only, while I was asking a million questions, ye were gallivanting all over creation, falling in pits and getting dirty. When I asked ye why, ye said ye were looking for yer future.”

  The memory brought a reluctant smile to her face. “That was back when I was convinced I’d marry an adventurer, remember? I used to go to that archeological dig Great-Aunt had commissioned and listen to them talk about the places they’d been and all the things they’d seen. But no’ because I wanted to write a book about them.”

  “Nay,” Bonnie chuckled. “Ye were looking for a man, even then. But no’ a prince, remember.”

  Well…why couldn’t a prince be an adventurer too? Vanessa’s chin went up and she pulled her hands from Bonnie’s. “Ye think a prince is too lofty a goal for someone like me?”

  Ye ken it is. The only Prince ye’ve ever wanted wants nothing to do with ye now that he kens yer wicked tongue.

  The glint in Bonnie’s eyes turned pitying. “Oh, Vanessa. Ye are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful woman the Highlands have ever seen, it is true. But that is no’ what makes ye worthy of a prince.”

  Nay, it didn’t. Because her beauty couldn’t mask the hurt she’d caused. Even Bonnie’s praise couldn’t fix the hollow feeling in her stomach. “I ken.”

  “Nay, ye dinnae.” Vanessa’s gaze snapped back
to her sister, but Bonnie shook her head sadly. “Ye are worth more than yer beauty, Vanessa.” Her sister patted her knee, softly. “And one day I hope ye realize it.”

  Frowning, Vanessa studied her sister, trying to figure out what Bonnie meant. But the other woman looked away, shifting slightly, then sighed mightily.

  “I’m sitting on my book, are I no’? Curse these ridiculous petticoats! Why can women no’ wear trousers?”

  “Because the sight of our thighs encased in those ridiculous tweed hunting breeches would cause all sorts of improper thoughts in men.”

  “So?” Scowling, Bonnie extracted the book of fairy tales from under her rear end. “That is their problem.”

  “It’ll become our problem if the men cannae control their amorous impulses.”

  “Ah, a fine argument. I must wear something stupid and uncomfortable because men cannae control their impulses otherwise.” Rolling her eyes and clutching the book to her chest, Bonnie stood. “By this same reasoning, I must cover my head when I go out in public, lest my bare earlobes incite men to uncontrollable lust.”

  Put like that… “Ye do have verra pretty ears, sister,” Vanessa giggled.

  “The onus should be on the men no’ to make improper advances, no’ on me to dress in an uncomfortable manner. Maybe, once I earn enough to buy my own publishing house, I’ll write a series of novels about a civilization where women have the vote, and since they find men’s chins so alluring, pass laws requiring every male to grow a beard, so as to protect them from roving bands of amorous women.”

  Vanessa couldn’t help it; her sister was so grumpy, she had to laugh. But when Bonnie scowled at her, Vanessa held up her hands. “Peace, sister, peace. I understand yer argument, but now I’ll no’ be able to look at a beard the same way again.”

  Bonnie harrumphed, but then blew out a breath and turned to glance around the garden. “I love this place, I do. But I cannae stop thinking about all the good I could do if I had my own publishing house. Not just printing my books, but others too.”

  “Ye’ve been thinking about this for a while, have ye?” Possibly since even before receiving that letter from Mr. Grimm.