Ember had to agree with Bonnie. “Viscount Sandringtonshiresauce or Lord Meglandonkington or Earl of Pastyburgham. I do not know how anyone can keep them straight.” She frowned as she reached the lower curve of her stepsister’s back and the buttons became more difficult. “It hasbeenagessince I had studied it, but do you recall the way your mother made you learn the etiquette? How to address an earl’s second daughter, or which person has to speak first when you meet someone of a higher rank. How to keep that all straight?”
“Oh, I know it!” Bonnie burst out with a chuckle. “And you remember Mother explaining how, once we are married, we needed to call our husbands by their titles, rather than their names? Can you imagine yelling, ‘Oh, Pastyburgham!’in bed?”
Ember straightened, laughing. “You could probably shorten it to‘Oh, Pasty!’”
“That is even worse!”
Tiffany waved her hands about for attention. “Remember, she told us she always referred to Father by his title?”
“Which was ‘Oliphant!’ ”Bonnie clamped her palms over her mouth, to dampen her chortles.
“And she did not see anything strange about calling him Oliphant,” Ember asked, “when everyone else around here was also named Oliphant?”
“Exactly!” Tiffany sighed in exasperation. “I have no intention of calling my Lysander ‘Viscount Blah-blah-blah’ in bed.”
“That is good,” Ember said dryly, “because you would be Viscountess Blah-blah-blah then, and that would be awkward.”
“A viscountess,” her sister sighed happily.
Ember shook her head as she checked Tiffany’s skirts. “I cannot believe you are already considering marrying the man. He has not even been here for tea yet!”
“You have not kissed him yet,” Bonnie pointed out.
“I do not need to kiss him to know we will be perfect together.” Tiffany lifted her chin proudly. “After all, I am beautiful, and he is a viscount.”
“Ah yes,” Bonnie murmured dryly, “what else does a happy marriage need?”
Ember pressed her lips together, refusing to point out—yet again—her sister’s pride would be her downfall. Besides, shedidwant Tiffany to be happy, and if that meant marrying Lysander—a viscount—then good for her. Ember just knewshedidn’t need that kind of title to be happy.
At the ball, she’d danced with the guest of honor, Mr. DeVille, who’d been nearly as fancy as one of the laird’s legitimate sons. He’d certainly danced as though he’d belonged at the ball, and Laird Oliphant himself had introduced him.
Aye, he might not be titled, but he held a position of power and he was important, andshe’ddanced with him.
But it wasMaxwho had captured her imagination and passion and interest. It wasMaxwho made her daydream about a future in his little house while she dusted the upstairs parlor. It wasMaxshe’d all-but-attacked last night, desperate to feel his hands on her skin and taste his lips.
Bonnie had taken up the gauntlet of arguing with Tiffany during Ember’s silence while she’d been lost in her thoughts. “Sister, being a viscountess is not the goal in life, remember.”
Tiffany hummed as she stepped away from Ember and in front of the mirror. “And whatisthen? Being a countess? A duchess? A princess?”
“Beinghappyis the goal in life, Your Grace,” Bonnie said with a touch of sarcasm. “Try to remember that.”
“Marrying a viscount will make me happy, I am certain.”
“It will make Mother happy, for certain.Youdo not even know him,” Bonnie argued. “You do not know if you can love him.Loveis what will make you happy.”
Love?
Did…did EmberloveMax?
Good heavens.
Tiffany was scoffing. “Love is well and good, of course, but being calledLady, and going to balls like the one last week—not just at our neighbors’ estates, but all across Scotland!—and having other women look at me enviously…?Thatwill make me happy. Oh, Ember, fetch the shoes you made me? I know they do not match exactly, but they make a statement.”
Ember’s eyes lit up. “And your Lysander is close with Mr. DeVille, so maybe he will mention them!”
“Yes, they are brothers now!” Tiffany clapped in excitement. “I will be certain to bring up the topic, just for you. We will have Mr. DeVille agreeing to manufacture your shoes in no time, and then you can start engraving full time!”
Ember hadn’t told her sister that the man she’d kissed—the man she might be falling in love with;the man who’d kissed her back, then acted horrified by it— was one of Mr. DeVille’s employees.
