Page 12 of His Revelation
Her sister was eying her suspiciously. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. Fine, fine.”
Bonnie took two hesitant steps toward the bench. “Except…you have not tried to talk me out of it. You have not tried to tell me marriage is every woman’s dream.”
Tiffany shrugged again. “It is my dream, but it does not have to beyourdream.”
Clucking her tongue, Bonnie took the last few steps to the bench, then sank down beside her once more. Tiffany thought she might be sitting on her book, but when Bonnie took her hands, she forgot to mention it.
“Oh, Tiffany. Are you certain marriage is your dream?”
What a preposterous question. “Ofcourseit is! I have always dreamed of marrying a lord?—”
“That is Mother’s dream for you,” Bonnie interrupted quietly, then squeezed her fingers until Tiffany looked up. “Not yours.”
“Do not be silly.” Tiffany scoffed. “Remember why you started reading those stories to me in the first place and why I kissed so many frogs? Because Iwantedto find my True Love! I want to fall in love and know he loves me and?—”
“That is very different from marrying well, and you know it, Tiffany Oliphant. I remember how much fun ye used to have visiting York with Great-Aunt Gertrude and Papa. Remember that old shop he used to take us? It was where I found that book of fairy tales.”
The memory brought a reluctant smile to Tiffany’s face. “The Curios Cabinet.”
“I should have known you would remember the name! You were fond of the proprietor.”
“He was fond ofme,” Tiffany chuckled. “There were so many fascinating finds there, and I think he was just delighted to have two lassies who asked so many questions about his antiquities.”
“We were both so different then,” Bonnie chuckled. “Well, I suppose I have not changed much—I remember sneezing from all the dust on his book collection—but you used to be so carefree. Then, your goal in life was to find adventure, not marry a lord.”
Tiffany’s chin went up and she pulled her hands from Bonnie’s. “You think a lord is too lofty a goal for someone like me?”
You know it is. The only lord you have ever wanted wants nothing to do with you now that he knows your wicked tongue.
The glint in Bonnie’s eyes turned pitying. “Oh, Tiffany. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The most beautiful woman theHighlandshave ever seen, it is true. But that is not what makes you worthy of love.”
No, it didn’t. Because her beauty couldn’t mask the hurt she’d caused. Even Bonnie’s praise couldn’t fix the hollow feeling in her stomach. “I know.”
“No, you do not.” Tiffany’s gaze snapped back to her sister, but Bonnie shook her head sadly. “You are worth more than your beauty, Tiffany.” Her sister patted her knee, softly. “And one day I hope you realize it.”
Frowning, Tiffany studied her sister, trying to figure out what Bonnie meant. But the other woman looked away, shifting slightly, then sighed mightily.
“I am sitting on my book, am I not? Curse these ridiculous petticoats! Why can women not wear trousers?”
“Because the sight of our thighs encased in tweed hunting breeches would cause all sorts of improper thoughts in men.”
“So?” Scowling, Bonnie extracted the book of fairy tales from under her rear end. “That is their problem.”
“It will become our problem if the men cannot control their amorous impulses.”
“Ah, a fine argument. I must wear something stupid and uncomfortable because men cannot control their impulses otherwise.” Rolling her eyes and clutching the book to her chest, Bonnie stood. “By this same reasoning, I must cover my head when I go out in public, lest my bare earlobes incite men to uncontrollable lust.”
Put like that… “Youdohave very pretty ears, sister,” Tiffany giggled.
“The onus should be on the men not to make improper advances, rather than onmeto dress in an uncomfortable manner. Maybe, once I earn enough to buy my own publishing house, I will write a series of novels about a civilization where women have the vote, and since they find men’s chins so alluring, pass laws requiring every male to grow a beard, so as to protect them from roving bands of amorous women.”
Tiffany couldn’t help it; her sister was so grumpy, she had to laugh. But when Bonnie scowled at her, Tiffany held up her hands. “Peace, sister, peace. I understand your argument, but now I shall not be able to look at a beard the same way again.”
Bonnie harrumphed, but then blew out a breath and turned to glance around the garden. “I love this place, I do. But I cannot stop thinking about all the good I could do if I had my own publishing house. Not just printing my books, but others too.”
“You have been thinking about this for a while, have you?” Possibly since even before receiving that letter from Mr. Grimm.
