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

Wide-eyed now, she switched her gaze to the way the curtains were valiantly fighting against the dawn light.

She remembered wandering around the archaeological site and listening to the men explain—in big, difficult words—what each piece of Roman architecture meant. Apparently, the site was revolutionary, for some reason or other, but Vanessa had been too anxious to try her hand at it to listen to the details. But when she’d asked for a small shovel, the man had laughed and told her a lass as pretty as herself wouldn’t want to get her hands dirty.

Dirty hands.

When he’d sent her home, Vanessa had been piqued enough to pick up her skirts—and a digging stick—and sneak behind a big pile of dirt. She remembered how certain she’d been that she would make a discovery which would force the archaeologists let her stay and help.

Which meant, when she’d seen the flash of gold, she hadn’t been surprised. She’d carefully dug around the golden sphere, holding her breath as she pulled it from its dirty home. But once she’d removed it, she’d been uncertain what to do with her magnificent find, and had decided to bury it again until she could show it to one of the archeologists. She’d been so excited, but when her mother had appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her shoulders, shrieking about how filthy she was, Vanessa had lost the chance to share what she’d found.

It was also the last time she’d gotten dirty, now she thought about it.

Which was a shame, because yesterday’s conversation with Bonnie had reminded her how much fun she used to have playing in the garden, catching—and kissing—frogs, and generally enjoying nature.

Which usually involved dirt.

A face flashed before her: a beard under a thick layer of dirt, and one green eye laughing at her. Frowning, she pushed away the thought of the stranger, along with the uncomfortable feelings he’d provoked.

Likely only because he’d intruded on her private garden, was all.

Best to think about the things she could control…like Bonnie’s need for money.

“Bonnie?” she whispered, and a sort of snorting snuffle from the room’s other bed answered her.

She and her sister had always shared a room, but Vanessa had been quite young when she’d insisted on Mother finding another bed for Bonnie, after one of her sister’s flailing arms had given Vanessa a black eye.

Bonnie was the deepest sleeper she knew, but also the most athletic.

“Bonnie?” she called again, louder. Still no answer, not that it was a surprise.

With a sigh, Vanessa swung her legs over the edge of the bed and didn’t even bother looking for her slippers in her hurry to reach her sister. But the floor was cold, and Bonnie didn’t wake up with a gentle nudge, so Vanessa pulled back the covers and slid in beside her.

“Bonnie!” She nudged her.

With a mutter, her sister rolled over and flopped one arm around Vanessa, pinning her down. Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Bonnie, wake up! I must speak to ye!”

“Ooh, ye great beast!” murmured Bonnie, snuggling closer. “Aye!”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Sister?” She poked Bonnie in the side. “Wake up!”

That was when her sister tried to kiss her.

So, Vanessa, out of sheer desperation, did what any good sister would do, and shoved her cold feet against Bonnie’s calves.

With a startled gasp, Bonnie jerked upright, and managed to snag her elbow in Vanessa’s night-rail on the way.

“Whazzit? Wha—” She shook her head once, then blinked hard at the bed’s new occupant. “Vanessa? Bloody hell, yer feet are cold!”

“Out of self-defense, I assure ye, sister dear.”

“What?” Bonnie yawned. “What time is it?”

“Stop asking irrelevant questions.” Vanessa grabbed her hand. “Bonnie, I figured out a solution to yer money woes!”

“My what?”

Goodness, she really didn’t wake up quickly—or very alertly—did she?

“I”—Vanessa pointed to herself with her free hand—“have figured out a way to get ye”—she squeezed Bonnie’s hand—“the money ye need to buy Mr. Grimm’s publishing house!

Bonnie blinked at her. “Ye did?”

“I did. Do ye want to hear it?”

“Can I lie back down and close my eyes?”

“Only if ye promise no’ to fall asleep.”

Her sister snuggled down. “I would never. Alright, I’m ready.”

Excitedly, Vanessa began. “Do ye recall how, yesterday, ye reminded me of the archaeological digs at Fangfoss Manor? There were those Roman ruins, and Great-Aunt Gertie told us her ancestor had built that folly around them when it was all the rage, but the archeologists had to tear them down.”

“I remember. Ye were so irritated at that, which was amazing, because I dinnae think ye were auld enough to ken what a ‘folly’ was.”

With a faint snort, Vanessa elbowed her sister. “Be nice. I’m about to save yer arse.”

“Such language.” Bonnie tsked, her smile flashing in the dim light. “Alright. Go on.”

“Do ye recall those spheres Phineas Prince was speaking of last week at Newfincy when we went for tea? And how he’d pay so much for one made of gold?”

“Aye.”

“Well…” Vanessa took a deep breath. “I remember there were a number of those spheres found in the dig at Fangfoss. I’d forgotten until this morning, but there were a half-dozen, of different materials, on display. That’s why the dig was an important one.”

“So? Phineas said—” Bonnie was interrupted by a yawn. “He said he had different kinds already.”

“But no’ a gold one.” This was where Vanessa’s memory was vital. She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I found one,” she whispered.

Bonnie sat straight up. “Vanessa Oliphant, are ye serious?”

“As an attack of the vapors, dear sister.” Smiling, Vanessa sat up as well, tucking her feet under her. “At the time, I didnae ken what it was of course, but now that I picture it in my mind’s eye, I’m certain I would’ve unearthed a rare gold ball had I been allowed to continue digging.”

“Ye werenae?”

Vanessa frowned. “Mother found me digging in the dirt, and that was the end of any archaeological ambitions I might’ve had. She told me ladies—especially ones as beautiful as I am—dinnae play in the mud.”

Deflated, Bonnie sagged back against the covers.