Perhaps because of who the next Laird Oliphant was.
“Oh, my darling,” Machara suddenly crooned, stepping away from Bonnie to place her hands on Tiffany’s shoulders. She nudged her oldest daughter’s chin up, forcing her shoulders to straighten proudly, as she stood behind her and met Tiffany’s gaze in the mirror. “Thereis my beauty, my pride.” The older woman ran a finger down her daughter’s carefully lotioned cheek. “I look at you and I see myself: the lady our next laird deserves. You are the most beautiful woman the Oliphants have seen in a generation, Tiffany, and I will not allow you to waste it.”
Ember knew “waste it”meant “marrying a man with an income of less than five thousand pounds yearly.”
If she couldn’t land the Duke, Machara would go after the next Laird Oliphant, poor man.
When Tiffany’s eyes began to gleam with pride, Ember turned away. Over the years, she’d seen the way her stepmother’s words could influence Tiffany. Her stepsister had gone from a pretty,cheerful, caring girl of Ember’s own age, to a vain and prideful young woman—one who was, admittedly, the most beautiful creature in the clan.
Sometimes, Ember wondered if the girl she used to know was still in there somewhere.
Do not be stupid. She and Bonnie loaned you the gown and undergarments, did they not?
Yes, they had. They were still her sisters after all, and she knew they both cared for her. The three of them had known Machara would object to Ember attending the ball; not because of the reasons she’d screeched, because the inncouldsurvive without them for the evening, but because she didn’t want her own entrance—and that of Tiffany—marred by Ember’s presence.
Sometimes it seemed everyone on Oliphant Land knew just how little the baroness thought of her stepdaughter. Emberusedto be important, back when her father was alive. There’d been wealth then, for Ember to get an education, to understand etiquette as well as art.
Father had taught her what she’d needed to follow after him, and they’d beenhappy.
But with him gone, the rest of the clan seemed to have forgotten she was once considered the best young engraver around and had now relegated her to drudge.
Just as her stepmother did so often.
Only, whereas Machara had done it on purpose, Ember was certain her clan hadn’t intended to be cruel.
And that was one thing which kept her going.
As she was preparing to slip out the door—she knew it was best to allow her stepmother to believe she’d accepted theno-balledict—the older woman suddenly snapped around. “Ember! The shoes!”
“Pardon?” Ember asked, turning halfway out the door.
Her stepmother huffed and rolled her eyes as she patted Tiffany’s cheek once more, then crossed back to reconstruct Bonnie’s coiffure. “The shoes, theshoes, you dolt! My daughters’ shoes. The things they wear on their feet.”
“I know what shoes are, Stepmother,” Ember managed coldly.
Machara narrowed her eyes at her. “Thenfetchthem. You have been tinkering with them in your father’s workshop, have you not? My Tiffany told me she and Bonnie wanted to wear some of your creations or none at all, so I graciously agreed. At least they will be unique.”
The last was muttered as she swept Bonnie’s hair atop her head once more.
Ember, knowing her stepmother couldn’t see her, stuck her tongue out at the woman’s back.
But all she said was, “Yes, I polished the shoes this morning.” Along with her own, the ones she was planning on wearing that evening.
To the ball.
Which her stepmother didn’t realize she planned to attend, with or without her permission.
With or without her stepsisters’ help.
“Good, good,” Machara snapped impatiently, not so much as sparing a glance at Ember. “Go andfetch them. And check if Auld Ben needs help with the supper guests while you are down there. We will likely be ready by the time you return.”
Bobbing a sarcastic curtsey, Ember glanced at Tiffany in the mirror, wondering if her sister would have to stifle her giggle at her show of defiance. The two of them used to laugh at Machara’s imperious ways, and though it was a small thing, it was another small thing which had kept Ember going through all these hard years after Da’s death.
But Tiffany was staring at her own reflection, stroking the skin of her neck with the back of her fingers, likely admiring the beauty her mother so often praised.
Apparently, she was practicing how to be imperious herself.
Stifling a sigh, Ember slipped from the room, knowing the sooner she complied with her stepmother’s orders, the sooner they’d all depart for Dumpkins Estate, leaving her to prepare for her own evening at the ball.
