“Narrative causality, eh?”
“Exactly. Willa, dear, check your notes and tell us what comes next.”
“Aye, Evangeline. Um…well, I suppose our hero needs to finalize his plan, does he no’? Let’s check in on him.”
* * *
“What in the hell was that all about?”
Roland had just returned from escorting the ladies out, gratefully depositing them with Arnie, the butler, when his brother jumped down his throat. “Pardon?”
Phin wasn’t buying his innocent act. “Ye were the one who insisted we invite the Oliphant ladies to tea, Roland! God’s Blood, I’ve never met a more distasteful old lady,” he added with a shudder as he sank into one of the abandoned chairs. “Did ye hear the way she lit into her daughter like that? When she was the one at fault?”
“Her daughter is equally to blame, I’m certain,” Roland said stiffly, as he stalked across the room.
“How could ye say that? Miss Vanessa was quiet, aye, but perfectly polite and—”
Roland interrupted him with a snort when he reached the drinks cabinet. “Vanessa Oliphant is far from quiet and polite. She is as much a viper as her mother.”
“Then why would ye insist on inviting them to tea?” Phin groaned and ran his hand through his hair. “Miss Bonnibelle was interesting at least. Is she why ye invited her mother and sister along? I found her to be well-read and delightfully curious. I approve.”
“Then ye court her,” Roland growled, as he poured enough whisky to cover the bottom of the glass. “She’s no’ interesting to me.”
“But Vanessa is?”
In order to avoid answering his brother, Roland tossed back the liquor, holding it against his tongue for a moment to relish the flavor—and the burn—before swallowing.
“Roland, ye dinnae have to answer, but I wouldnae mind knowing why I had to spend my afternoon in such awkward straits.”
Staring down at the empty glass, Roland knew his brother was right. “There was a time I thought Vanessa was the woman for me, Phin. Circumstances have since changed, and I realize I was wrong.”
“So ye invited them today to…what? To be certain?”
“Something like that, aye.” He needed another drink. “She’s beautiful, aye, but vain and self-centered. She thinks her beauty makes her better than everyone else.”
His brother was silent for a moment, then Roland heard the sounds of Phin shifting position. “For what it’s worth, I didnae seem to get that from her at all today.”
“Nay, she’s good at seeming,” Roland bit out, reaching for the decanter again. “She seems to be delightful and sweet and flirtatious.” His knuckles tightened around the bottle’s neck. “And then ye hear her real opinions about things.”
“Was she the lass ye danced with at DeVille’s masquerade ball?” his brother asked.
This whisky burned even more. “Aye,” Roland gasped out when he was able to.
And Phineas tsked, suddenly beside him, reaching for the decanter. “I’m no’ going to ask how ye formed this opinion of her, because what I saw at the ball was a man—dressed in period inappropriate garb, no’ that any of ye ever care about the historical accuracy of yer costumes—who was verra much intrigued by a beautiful lass. Give me that, there’s nae need to get drunk this early in the day.”
“It’s almost evening.”
“Aye, and I’ll be leaving soon, so ye’re just going to sit here by yerself and drink as the sun sets?” Phin scoffed as he settled the decanter back into place. “Pitiful.”
Scowling, Roland turned away from his brother, wondering if he ought to be ashamed.
Wondering if he ought to be ashamed over the fact he wasn’t ashamed.
“Come along.” Phin gripped his shoulder once, briefly, before dropping his arm and turning toward the door. “Ye can walk me to the stables. Hell, ye can saddle yer horse and ride with me back to my home.”
Their father had settled a sum on Phineas when he’d reached his majority. And Phin, being Phin, had researched the hell out of investment opportunities until he’d discovered the ones which made the best returns, and when he finished his schooling and came back to Oliphant land, he had more than enough to build and staff his own quaint manor house, less than twenty minutes’ ride from Newfincy Castle.
“Why no’?” muttered Roland under his breath. “If ye’ll no’ let me drink…”
“Oh, excellent. I’m pleased to know ye think spending time with me is almost as good as drinking yerself into a stupor.”
Roland snorted at his brother’s sarcasm, then sighed as they each settled their hats atop their heads and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. “Should I apologize then? For being so morose?”
“Aye, and for insisting I be present for that farce of a polite gathering.” Phin shot him a knowing look. “But Miss Vanessa is the one ye should be apologizing to for yer rudeness this afternoon.”
“She can rot before I’ll apologize for my natural reaction to her words. Ye didnae hear what she said about Lyon.”
“Ah.” That was all Phin said, and really, it was enough.
Their older brother, who would one day be Laird Oliphant, had never been the friendliest of men. But Roland remembered him as fiercely protective and loyal, with a biting sense of humor he only occasionally displayed. There had been one Hogmanay celebration when seventeen-year-old Lyon had kept Roland laughing so hard with his dry observations of the guests, that Roland almost cast up his accounts in the potted palm.
Aye, he’d always been a hard man to get to know, but after the fire and his wife’s death…
Roland shook his head as Phin called for their horses to be saddled. Lyon truly had become the Beast of the Oliphants, as the Edinburgh gossips had taken to calling him. He rarely left the old Oliphant Castle, and when Roland visited him, he saw only a hollow shell of anger and bitterness.
It was heart-breaking, but the man was his brother.
To hear him spoken of so poorly, and from a lady as beautiful as Vanessa Oliphant, had turned Roland’s stomach.
Oh, she hadn’t known he could hear her words, which made it worse in so many ways. The insulting things she’d said about Lyon—“hideous,” “brutal,” “barbaric”—had been how she’d truly felt. She’d called Lyon a barbarian and worse.
Can ye imagine having to sit across the table from—from that at meals? Or worse, listen to him talk— Do ye think he can talk, or does he just grunt? And letting those hands touch ye…
Roland didn’t think he’d ever forget the way his stomach had felt when he’d heard her voice—the voice he’d been dreaming about since the ball—utter such insults.
And it was then that the desire for revenge had been born. He’d been sitting in the family’s parlor at the inn and had turned to his friend, Max, to tell him about the lesson he planned on teaching Vanessa. But the ladies had interrupted them, and soon after they were served tea—by the serving lass Max ended up marrying in fact—and after Max excused himself, Roland realized he couldn’t stomach such company any longer.
But now he was ready to set his plan into motion.
The brothers didn’t speak again until they were mounted and cantering away from Newfincy Castle. It was Phin who broke the silence.
“So she’s beautiful on the outside.”
“But corrupted and spiteful at her core,” Roland bit out.
“And ye needed to see her today to remind yerself of that?”
Roland slowed his horse, and his brother followed suit. “Nay. I needed to see her today to remind her of how much she wants me.”
Phin raised his brow. “Full of yerself, are ye?”
“I’m a viscount.” Roland shrugged and urged his horse to one side to avoid a farmer’s cart. After returning the man’s respectful nod, he spoke without looking at his brother. “I suppose I should be grateful. There’s no’ many second sons who can claim a title such as that, but thanks to our mother’s father, I do. And anyone with half a bra
in can tell Vanessa is grasping for a title.”
“So ye think she is trying to impress ye so ye’ll ask her to marry ye?”
There’d been a moment, right before her mother had dragged her away from the ball, when Roland had considered it. He’d never wanted for female companionship, but there had been something about Vanessa which had reached into his gut and tugged; something visceral and primal which had wanted to claim her as his. Those perfect blue eyes, that perfect smile… He’d called her his angel and had meant it.
When she touched him—and today had been no exception—or when he caught her scent, his cock reminded him she was exactly the sort of woman he wanted to call his for the rest of their lives.
He’d only danced with her a few times, but that had been enough. His feelings for her had been almost…magical.
Thank the saints he’d learned what kind of woman she really was before he’d yoked himself to her for all of their days.
But how to explain that to Phin?
“I think…she’s interested in money and influence, and she kens she’s beautiful enough to get them, but no’ important enough—or wealthy enough—to search for them elsewhere. I’m the most eligible bachelor around, no offense.”
“None taken,” Phin said dryly. “And do not forget handsome. The two of ye make quite the pair.”
“Aye, and that is the problem. Lyon is an Earl’s heir, and his wife will one day—no’ for many years, God willing—have all the power and influence she can stand. But Vanessa dismissed him as unworthy of her because of his appearance.”
When he glanced over at his brother, Phineas was frowning thoughtfully. “Then I suppose it is just as well ye’ll no’ have anything more to do with her.”
“I didnae say that.” If things went well, he’d have plenty to do with her, but she wouldn’t like it.
“I’m supposed to be the intelligent one in this family.” Phin raised a brow. “I do not like it when ye scheme.”
“Well, my scheming brother, I cannae say ye’d approve of this plan.”
“We won’t know until ye tell me.”
Was he genuinely curious?
Roland debated explaining to his brother, then shrugged. “I intend to give her a taste of her own medicine. The foul-tasting stuff, no’ the brews flavored with honey.”
Phin’s lips twitched. “I never doubted. So ye’ll teach her a lesson, eh?”
“I want her to have to acknowledge how judgmental and cruel she is. No’ just to me, but to herself. When I’m done, I want her to ken I ken who she really is, deep down. I want her to ken there’s nae mask she can wear anymore, anywhere, because I’ll be certain to make everyone aware of her true nature.”
“That’s…uncharacteristically brutal of ye, Roland.”
Brutal.
That’s what he’d be. Just as she accused Lyon of being.
“I’ll no’ stand by and let someone speak of our brother that way,” he growled.
“Fair enough.” Phin blew out a breath; a sound his horse echoed. “I hope ye offer her the chance to repent before ye ruin her future.”
Ruin her future.
The phrase sent a spike of guilt into Roland’s gut, but he scowled and forced it aside. Ruining her future? That wasn’t his intent. He just wanted her to know he knew who she was, and he wouldn’t be marrying her, now or ever.
“I’m no’ ruining her future,” he mumbled, as much to convince himself as Phin.
“Are ye no’?” His brother hummed. “It sounded as if ye intended to destroy her chances at a marriage, no’ just with ye, but with anyone, even if she repents.”
“I dinnae want to ruin her, especially no’ if she repents,” Roland snapped. “But I want her to acknowledge how wrong she was.”
Thankfully, his brother let that argument drop. “And how are ye intending on doing this?”
“I’m going to present myself to her—in her own space, no’ here, where she’d expect something different. The Oliphant Inn has been the area’s primary lodging for two generations now, even though it was once a manor house belonging to the Barons Oliphant. Despite her airs, and that of her mother, they’re used to hosting all types of people in their home.”
“And am I correct in guessing ye’ll be a…less than desirable type?”
“I’ll be the least desirable,” Roland snarled, “at least according to her standards. I’ll be the ugliest, dirtiest, most barbaric man she can imagine. Perhaps I’ll pretend to be less than whole.”
“Missing an eye perhaps?” mused his brother.
“Oh, excellent! I’m certain my valet could scrounge me up an eyepatch.”
“Ye’ll need to grow a beard.”
Thoughtfully, Roland rubbed at his chin. “That will be simple enough.” His valet sometimes had to shave him twice a day.
“If ye allow that bush on yer chin to grow for a few days, it’s possible even I willnae recognize ye,” Phin admitted. “And if ye add in some dirt…”
“Aye, I’ll be the worst-looking wretch she’s ever encountered, and when she dismisses me, I’ll no’ go.”
“And will ye growl and bark and act otherwise like our brother?”
Roland shook his head, warming to the idea. “Nay. I’ll treat her with the utmost respect, so when she dismisses me, turns me away, there’ll be nae confusion as to why she did it. She’s too obsessed with appearances to do anything otherwise. And then…”
“Ye’ll simply point out her error?” There was a trace of laughter in Phin’s voice as his horse picked its way around a puddle from last night’s rain.
“Nay,” muttered Roland as he considered his plan. “I’ll reveal who I am, and when she begs and pleads for my forgiveness, I’ll no’ grant it. She must learn to see value beyond how a person looks. She must acknowledge how vain and self-centered she really is.”
Their horses reached the top of the hill which marked Phineas’s home. The lane that led to his small manor branched off to the left, and he pulled his horse’s head in that direction.
“And ye’ll do all that without hurting her? Without ruining her future?” Phin’s voice had more than a touch of incredulous humor in it as his animal picked its way in a circle. “So this will not be a public repudiation?”
He wasn’t certain where it would happen, but the thought of harming Vanessa made him want to scowl. “I dinnae want to hurt the lass. I just want her to acknowledge—”
“Yes, yes, that she’s a terrible person.” Phin nodded. “Hopefully, she’ll change her ways, eh?”
Still scowling, Roland nodded. “That is all I want. When she realizes who it is she’s treated so poorly, she’ll walk over coals to beg my pardon, I’m certain. She wants to marry me after all.”
“But ye willnae.” Still trying to hide his smirk—obviously not very well—Phin leaned across the space and offered his hand. “Good luck, brother. I look forward to hearing how yer scheme progresses.”
With a curt nod, Roland shook his younger brother’s hand. “I’ll see ye soon.”
“Certainly.” Phin allowed his smile to bloom. “Ye’re welcome to visit and see my collection of Roman sphaera anytime.”
“Och, man. I’ve got better things to do with my time than to drop by and handle yer balls!”
Chuckling, his brother wheeled his horse down the lane. “My balls are quite a lot of fun to handle, but only while wearing gloves.”
“And under a magnifying glass!” called Roland, unable to resist poking fun at his brother’s hobbies.
“They’re magnificent, ye rotter!”
Phineas’s laughter floated up the lane and caused Roland to smile. But testicle-size-jokes aside, he soon recalled his mission. As the sun sank further in the west, and a chill wind picked up, Roland’s stomach tightened once more.
Ruin her future?
He didn’t want that, did he? But his plan was a good one and would make her realize the errors of her ways.
In fact, he might argue he was saving her
future. By helping her see and acknowledge her own glaring faults, he would be helping her to fix them before she went marriage hunting again.
Oh, she wouldn’t be marrying him, but whomever she approached next—or whichever poor sod was unlucky enough to fall for the spell of her beauty—would never see the darkness of her heart.
Thanks to him.
Chapter 3
“This is it! This is when it all starts coming together—my favorite part of this job!”
“Do calm down, Grisel. This much enthusiasm is unseemly in a member of the Guild of Godmothers.”
“Wrong! Wrong, Evangeline! Godmothers are supposed to be enthusiastic about their work! I read The Book too, ye’ll recall! And I cannae help being excited, because this is Willa’s first assignment—ye’re doing swimmingly by the way, dear—and we’re about to see poor Roland set his plan into motion!”
“Yes, yes. Willa is doing good work. But Grisel, ye really need to calm down a bit. The way you’re waving your arms all over, I’m concerned you’re going to knock the crystal ball—”
* * *
The week following their tea at Newfincy Castle, Vanessa and Bonnie were hiding in the garden. Not the inn’s formal garden which Mother hired someone to tend to every Monday afternoon during the warmer months so the guests would always have a pristinely landscaped natural retreat. No, this was the small garden off the kitchens where Ember used to hang the laundry, and where the girls had always escaped to when necessary. The bushes were overgrown, and the herbs were the most important plants.
And of course, there was the well.
Since she was a little girl, Vanessa had always been fascinated by the old well; with its moss-covered stones and ivy growing up the posts. She’d been convinced it was the home of fairies at one point, but now she knew it just contained frogs.
Which was pretty much a metaphor for her life these days.
“Are ye certain she didn’t see us escape out here?” Bonnie murmured worriedly.
The Lass Who Kissed a Frog Page 3