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

Knowing what was expected of her, Vanessa planted a soft smile on her face—one she knew made her look approachable and demure, because she’d spent hours practicing it in front of a mirror—and followed.

“Why are ye so nervous?” whispered her sister, as she tucked her notebook into a hidden pocket and stepped up beside her. “Dinnae deny it. I ken ye better than Mother does, remember?”

“I’m no—” Realizing she was about to deny it, Vanessa’s smile slipped for a moment. “I just dinnae want to do anything to ruin my chances with Roland.” The reminder of the masquerade ball earlier in the season, and how the two of them had not only danced beautifully together, but had also snuck away for some quiet conversation, made her sigh happily. “He’s perfect, Bonnie,” she whispered as the butler opened the door ahead, “and I think I might love him.”

“Ye love the idea of him,” her sister corrected.

As if that mattered.

Vanessa sighed again. “Aye, I believe I do.” The idea of Roland and Roland. “I want him to love me too.”

Apparently, their mother was listening, because as the butler led them through the echoing foyer of Newfincy Castle, she turned just long enough to hiss over her shoulder, “Of course he’ll love ye. Ye’re beautiful! He came to tea, did he no’?”

Luckily, she’d turned back away, the fake smile plastered on her face, and Vanessa didn’t have to answer. Instead, she exchanged glances with Bonnie and knew her sister was thinking the same thing.

Roland had come for tea, only a week after they’d danced at the ball, and had brought Max DeVille—who was now married to their stepsister, Ember—as well. But despite Mother’s attempts to pretend everything was wonderful, Roland had been distinctly cold throughout the social niceties, and had left not long after Mr. DeVille had excused himself.

And Vanessa was terrified she knew the reason why.

“Ladies.” Two men stood when the butler led them into the parlor, but only one was smiling. And it wasn’t the one who’d spoken, which was Roland Prince. “Thank ye for joining us.”

“Of course, Viscount Blah-blah-blah!” Mother tittered as she dipped into a deep curtsey. “We are honored.”

“Blabloblal,” corrected Roland under his breath, his expression carefully blank.

It wasn’t until Bonnie followed their mother that Vanessa remembered her manners and forced herself to stop looking at Roland long enough to curtsey as well.

He’d stepped up to Mother’s side and was leading her toward the little arrangement of chairs facing a cold hearth. “Lady Machara, Baroness Oliphant, may I present my brother, Mr. Phineas Prince?”

“Ye most certainly can!” Mother winked at Roland, her outrageous flirting curling something deep in Vanessa’s stomach. “But a mere ‘mister’? Oh dear,” she pretended to bemoan, as she offered the youngest Prince brother her hand. “I was certain such a handsome Prince as yerself would be a lord.”

“Alas,” quipped Phineas stiffly as he bowed over Mother’s hand. “I am one of those bores who believes the future of humanity rests in knowledge and study, and thus I am content with my lack of title.”

“How amusing! Ye must meet my youngest daughter, Bonnibelle! Bonnie, come meet the delightful Mr. Prince! Ye two can bore one another!”

As she laughed at her own joke, Mother missed the way the faces around her went carefully blank at her insult, though Vanessa didn’t react at all, because she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from Roland’s eyes.

When he turned to her, she was quick to arrange her expression into the smile she knew made her look beautiful, yet approachable. He studied her for a moment longer than was necessary, making her feel as if he weren’t quite impressed with her efforts.

Finally, he inclined his head, and Vanessa felt herself begin to breathe again.

“Miss Oliphant,” he murmured politely, as he took her hand. “We meet again.”

It wasn’t a “I’m so glad we’ve met again,” or “Of course we’d meet again, since I invited ye after all,” or even a “What in the hell are ye doing here, so that we could meet again?” It was just a simple statement, and Vanessa found herself floundering in intentions.

“Aye, milord.” She remembered to keep her voice breathy and alluring, the way Mother said men preferred. “Thank ye so much for having us. This is the highlight of our week.”

He straightened but didn’t release her hand. His touch, the way it had in the past, sent little shivers of delicious warmth through her, and she felt as if she could spend the rest of her life holding his hand, despite the layer of soft glove she wore. When she felt his thumb trace a small circle across the backs of her fingers, she wanted to drop her gaze to confirm, but couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.

And the way he was looking at her.

Despite the warmth of his touch, his gaze was…closed off. Not at all the open and laughing young man she’d danced and flirted with at the ball. But at least it wasn’t the icy anger she’d felt from him when he’d come to the inn for tea.

“Aye,” he finally murmured, and when she shifted frantically through her memory to the last thing said, she bristled at his agreement. As if this should be the highlight of her week.

With a faint sniff and telling herself it didn’t matter how nice his touch felt, she pulled her hand from Roland’s and straightened her shoulders. Surprisingly, his lips curled upward at her haughtiness, but it wasn’t a warm smile.

He inclined his head once more. “Tea, Miss Oliphant?”

When he gestured to the collection of chairs where Bonnie and his brother were already speaking animatedly about something-or-other, she lifted her chin and swept past him, her stomach all in knots.

Why was he acting this way? She studied him surreptitiously as she poured the tea and was disconcerted to find him watching her. Oh, she was used to men looking at her, but Roland was studying. Noting her