The Lass Who Kissed a Frog by Lee, Caroline (big ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“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