There was no need to lie. “Just a man. A guest.”
“Oh, Ember.” Tiffany sighed, clasping her hand to her chest. “Is he handsome? Is he a good kisser? Are you in love with him? Will you marry him and let him sweep you away from Mother and the inn and all this drudgery?”
Will you marry him?
Ember hadn’t realized it, but thatwaswhat she’d been considering, wasn’t it? Even before she’d kissed him she’d been thinking about a future with him. Which was silly because she’d barely known him, still didn’t really.
But seeing the plans for his modest, cozy home, she could picture herself sitting there in the parlor with him. When he laughed, she wanted to make him laugh for years to come. When he expressed interest in her, she knew he’d support her dreams.
You cannot marry the man. You do not even know his last name!
But after that kiss, she felt as if she knew theimportantthings about Max.
Then why did he hand the shoe back to you and leave?
Ah.
A harder question.
Ember swallowed, her fingers twining through one another as she considered the kiss last night at Oliphant Engraving. No—it wasn’t the kiss, it was what cameafter.
It was when she was telling him about her shoes and asking for his help in presenting the idea to Mr. DeVille. He’d completely shut down, handed the shoe back to her, stammered out an excuse, then hurried up the stairs.
She’d been mortified. Had she acted too boldly or something? Should she be ashamed of her actions, of the way she’d thrown herself into his arms?
On the verge of tears, she had gathered up her tools, put the shoe in her bag, along with the three heels she’d already turned, then hurried out of the building. All night, she’d tossed and turned, torn between joy at his kisses—histouches—and confusion and hurt at his response to her project.
“Ember?” Bonnie prompted softly. “Do youwantto marry him?”
“I want…to be free to make my own choices.” Ember’s voice grew stronger as she realized the truth. “I want autonomy, not this life.”
A week ago, she’d known exactly what she wanted. She’d wanted to sell the new manager of Oliphant Engraving on her design and convince him to start production. That money would allow her to leave the inn guilt-free and start a simple life somewhere of her own choosing. She’d be leaving her father’s workshop, but his tools belonged to her, and she could create her art in another location if Mr. DeVille wouldn’t allow her to work in the engravers’ studio.
Aye, she’d known exactly what she’d wanted.
But then she’d danced at a ball with the guest of honor and had been the center of attention. She’d spoken with Max, hadkissedMax, and more. He’d made her heart beat faster and made her reconsider her plans for the future, and now she wasn’t certain ofanything.
“Could this man of yours be part of that autonomy?” Tiffany teased, winking.
Slowly, Ember nodded. She’d like Max to be a part of her future, but she wasn’t certain if he wanted that, not after the way he’d reacted the previous night.
“Good.” Tiffany nodded once, firmly, then spun around and offered her back to Ember. “You deserve happiness. Now button me.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
As Ember focused on the buttons, her stepsister laughed. “Do not be silly. Lysander is aviscount, not a king.”
“Why is his aulder brother not the viscount?” Ember muttered, distracted by the fiddly little buttons.
“Oh! I know this!” Bonnie tapped her finger against her dressing table. “I read about their family somewhere.”
“Of course you did,” muttered Tiffany.
“It was a special case, which is why the heir—Leonidas—does not have a title. What was it?” Bonnie pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Oh, I remember. Your Lysander, and his younger brother Phineas, are sons of the laird’s second wife, correct? Her father was a viscount, so the title passed to her eldest son, Lysander.”
“A viscount…” sighed Tiffany.
“Yes, Viscount Something-or-other. You know how ridiculous these titles are; they all sound the same.”
