Chapter 8
“Look, some of us have actual work to do! I do not need you to hang over my shoulder and criticize me!” Bonnie threw down her pen and glared up at her stepsister, who was standing with her hands on her hips beside the small desk in the room Bonnie had taken.
Ember shrugged. “Today is my day away from work. When Tiffany said I needed to come because you were moping, I knew it must be serious.”
“I am not moping,” Bonnie moped.
With a groan, Tiffany lowered herself into one of the chairs beside the window; the sun reflecting on the snow making the light bright enough to need to squint when Bonnie glanced at her.
“I am working as well. It is not my fault you cannot see it. It is difficult work, making the next viscount.”
Bonnie met Ember’s eyes, and from the way her sister’s lips were pressed together, it was clear she was trying hard not to laugh as well. Although Tiffany’s gently rounded belly was barely visible, she was absolutely milking this “being pregnant” thing as much as possible.
“Hand me my tea, would you, Ember dear?”
Bonnie planted her elbows on the table and began to rub at her temples, as Ember crossed to the tea tray to fix a cup of tea for their sister.
They’d been raised in the same house, but after Ember’s father had died, Mother had slowly changed the poor girl into a sort of unpaid servant.
It had never been right, but Bonnie was ashamed to admit she hadn’t noticed until it was too late, as she was lost in a book more often than not.
But now, Tiffany gave Ember a grateful smile as she took the tea. “Thank you, Ember. I appreciate the help. My feet are so sore!”
Tiffany had never minded having Ember do things for her, but it was nice to know her marriage to Lysander had mellowed her and taught her the value of appreciation and help.
From the way Ember smiled in return and sank into a chair beside Tiffany, it appeared she didn’t mind doing nice things in return for appreciation. At least now she wasn’t expected to do anything. And here at Blabloblal, Mother wasn’t around to give any of them orders.
It was wonderful to be away from her control, even if it had meant bucking society and striking out on her own.
Speaking of that…
With a sigh, Bonnie began to collect the papers in front of her. They needed to be placed in the correct order so when she got to Inverness, it’d be easier to ensure their printing.
“So what is she moping about?” Ember asked their sister in a loud whisper.
Tiffany replied in an equally unbelievably loud whisper, “Something to do with the publishing company I think.”
Her lips twitching fondly at her love for these two sisters of hers, Bonnie shook her head.
Without turning, she said, “I think I have finally found the last piece of my book.” The last piece she’d be able to manage at least. “I am returning to Inverness tomorrow and will start setting type for the first printing run. I am going to market it as particularly interesting to women.”
Ember hummed. “That does not sound like moping. Not that I am not thrilled to be here, but I thought it was something…dire?”
“I thought it was.” Tiffany sniffed. “You should have seen her when Lysander brought her back here. She was close to tears, and I keep catching her sobbing into her soup—”
Bonnie whirled around. “That is not true!”
She knew it wasn’t true, because even though she’d felt like sobbing often in the days since she’d left Oliphant Castle, she hadn’t once given in to it.
“Which part?” Ember asked. “The being close to tears, or the sobbing?”
“Or the soup?” Tiffany added unhelpfully. “I cannot abide soup.”
“And I adore it,” snapped Bonnie, remembering the squash soup Lyon’s new cook had made. “So I would not ruin it with tears.”
“Aye, that sounds disgusting,” Ember deadpanned. “Very salty.”
Tiffany frowned over her teacup. “I am only just now getting over the urge to cast up my accounts every time someone mentions eating soup. Do not make it worse.”
“Cast up your accounts? What does that mean?” Ember cocked her head to one side. “As in…you have a ledger or journal of your expenses? And you toss it over your shoulder or out of a boat or something?”
Huffing, Tiffany lifted her feet encased in delicate slippers to rest on the ottoman in front of her. “To cast up one’s accounts is a euphemism. A polite way to say…”
With her free hand, she gestured at her stomach.
“To become pregnant?”
“No,” offered Bonnie, trying to keep a straight face at her sister’s outdated language. “That is increasing.”
“Well, that is certainly true.” Ember eyed Tiffany’s belly wryly.
Now Tiffany was gesturing from her stomach, up her esophagus, to her mouth. “To cast up your accounts means…you know.”
“Breathing?” Ember guessed. “Is that a dance? You know I never took the same dancing lessons as the two of you.”
Now, Tiffany was opening her mouth, pretending to heave. That, along with the motion of her hand as she dragged something vile up from her stomach, made it clear what she meant.
From the way Ember’s eyes twinkled as she cocked her head to one side and pretended not to understand, Bonnie guessed she was just teasing Tiffany.
“You are…gasping for breath? You smell something bad? What does this have to do with your accounts?”
“Vomit!” shrieked Tiffany, finally. “Casting up your accounts means to vomit!”
Bonnie burst into laughter, and heavens, but it felt good.
Shrugging, Ember leaned back in her chair. “Why not just say you had to vomit? It is a normal part of pregnancy, is it not?”
“It is, but speaking of vomit in polite company is considered rude,” Tiffany sniffed.
Ember grinned. “I am not polite company.”
“You certainly are not.”
Still chuckling, Bonnie shook her head. “I have missed you two.”
Tiffany lifted her teacup in salute. “And I have missed your smile.” She leaned toward Ember and lowered her voice, saying, “She really has been moping, you know.”
“Since Lysander returned her, you say?” Ember murmured back.
“I am sitting right here, you two!”
Ember ignored her. “Where did you say she spent the blizzard?”
Tiffany hummed thoughtfully. “I did not say, because it is delightfully scandalous. Our sister spent the time at Oliphant Castle—”
“With Lyon?” Ember gasped, her excitement evident as she scooted to the edge of her seat. “Or Keith? Our husbands’ brothers are both good men, although it might be difficult to—”
“I am sitting right here!” Bonnie huffed in irritation and crossed her arms in front of her. “And I spent the blizzard in Oliphant Castle because there was a blizzard. Nothing scandalous happened!”
Except it had, and if either of her sisters studied her too closely, they would be sure to know her secret. Bonnie pretended great interest in her papers.
“You know, Lysander has mentioned the magnificent library at Oliphant Castle as something Bonnie would enjoy, were she allowed to spend time there.” Tiffany arched a brow over her tea cup. “Everyone knows that it is important for two people to have something in common before they begin courting…”
“This is true,” Ember agreed, shifted her attention back to Bonnie. “It was certainly the case with you and Lysander, Tiffany.”
“Yes, we are both very attractive and charming.”
“And Max and I are both innovators. I like working with my hands while he manages the business, but Oliphant Engraving has never been as successful as we have made it in the last season since we have opened orders for my custom-engraved shoes.”
It was hard to argue with those facts. Bonnie slumped further in her chair. “I am not being courted,” she announced with a pout.
Ember hummed and tapped her bottom lip. “But there must be someone at Oliphant Castle whom she felt a connection to.”
She glanced thoughtfully at Tiffany, who asked, “Who there loves to read and learn new things, and Bonnie might be in love with?”
Oh Lord in Heaven, she couldn’t allow this to continue. They were already too close, with their teasing. “Who said I am in love with anyone?”
“The moping,” Ember pointed out cheerfully. “Ye are moping around just like a woman in love.” She gestured to Tiffany, then back to herself. “Trust us, we ought to know.”
Before Bonnie could deny it, Tiffany heaved her feet to the ground and sat up, amid much groaning.
“Just answer us this, Bonnie dear. There is a man, is there not? And the thought of him makes your heart beat faster, and makes you feel short of breath, and you cannot sleep for thinking of his kisses?”
How did she know?
Perhaps Bonnie spent a moment too long staring at her sister, because Tiffany nodded firmly and cut a glance at Ember. “Definitely in love.”
“So why the moping?” Ember cocked a brow at Bonnie. “Because it is unrequited?”
If she just kept her mouth shut, her sisters would write this whole damn depressing gothic novel for her!
But she wouldn’t be Bonnie if she knew how to keep her mouth shut, would she?
With a low growl, which sounded remarkably like Lyon’s, she pushed herself upright and turned back to her papers.
“Tomorrow I am going back to Inverness,” she repeated, as much for herself as for her sisters.
“I am going to publish my book. My book will be a glorious success, and then I will start to publish books by other women.” She nodded firmly.
“I will help usher in a new wave of women’s accomplishments, and that is what I want from life. ”
Not love. Not marriage.
Right?
Her back was to her sisters, so she couldn’t see their reaction. But from the absolute silence back there, the two of them were exchanging Significant Looks. Well, to hell with them!
She pushed away from the table, clutching her papers close to her chest, and turned around to face them. “Now, I am going to lock these up, then I am going down to luncheon. Ember, you will join us, will you not?”
Before Ember could do more than nod, Bonnie’s grin turned wicked. “I have heard we are having soup.” Tiffany pressed her lips together. “Cream soup.” Tiffany’s cheeks paled. “Salty, oyster cream soup.”