If You Give A Girl A Viscount

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Famous last words.

There was something, all right.

And that something was Perdita.

When Daisy got back to the Keep, Perdita was holding court in the elegant drawing room in the main hall. The room was thick with cheroot smoke, and the smell of whisky was strong. A sideboard groaned under the weight of platters of sandwiches, cheeses, fruit, and Scottish shortbread.

All but four of the gentlemen were playing cards. Those four who weren’t were either snoozing or reading.

It was a man’s world, and woe to any woman who entered it, except Mona, of course. She didn’t give a fig what any man thought.

Daisy stood outside the door with Cassandra, watching Perdita in action.

“She’s in her element,” Cassandra whispered.

“I know,” Daisy said. “Everyone’s been sworn to secrecy—are you sure you can keep it a secret, too?”

Cassandra scowled. “Of course. I’ve kept your secret, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” said Daisy.

But for how long?

Her beautiful stepsister strolled away.

Meanwhile, Perdita’s cheroot hung from her mouth, and she eyed her cards carefully. She had the notice of every person in the room, except Mona, whose gaze was disinterested as she watched the proceedings from her perch near Mr. Woo.

“Ye have a good hand, young laird?” one of the gentlemen asked Perdita.

“Aye,” she said in her usual loud voice.

The man from Bavaria, Mr. Gnamm, sighed. “What I would have given to meet your grandfather. Can ye tell us about him, MacFarland?”

MacFarland was the name Daisy had given Perdita.

“Slainte.” Perdita raised her glass and clinked it with Mr. Gnamm’s, ignoring his question.

“Slainte,” he said back.

Perdita took a gulp and went back to her cards.

“Was the old chieftain in any battles?” asked another man.

“Aye,” said Perdita.

A footman came up with a tray of sandwiches and held it before her. She moved all her cards to one hand, picked up a sandwich, took a huge bite, put the rest back on the tray, and then held her cards with both hands again, which were large and mannish, like the rest of her.

“What was his preferred weapon?” asked another gentleman.

Chewing slowly, she glared at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “Please. Finish your bite. And focus on the game.”

She swallowed. Then laid down a card.

There was a collective sigh.

“You won again,” said Mr. Woo.

“Aye.” Perdita pulled a pile of coins toward her broad chest.

Daisy chose that moment to stroll in. “So, I see you’ve all met our son of a son of a Highland chief.” She got varied responses, all encouraging:

“Fascinating.”

“Almost a throwback to the old days.”

“What a treat.”

Except for Mr. Woo’s. “He doesn’t say much,” he said.

“Of course not.” Daisy threw a smile at Perdita. “I told you he’s not much of a talker. But he represents a way of life that is fast disappearing. We’re thrilled to have him here, aren’t we, gentlemen?”

A chorus of affirmations followed.

“You’re all brilliant businessmen,” she went on. “You’ve a great deal in common with the old Highland chiefs. They made all their decisions from their gut.”

“It’s the only way to live,” said one man.

“Who knows? Perhaps you each have a Highlander in you,” Daisy said, looking around the group.

“Aye!” cried Perdita, her fist crashing down on the table and her eyes sparkling with approval at Daisy’s remark.

One man jumped up. “I feel as if I do have a Highland chief within me. And he wants to go salmon fishing. Will you come with us, young laird?”

“Aye!” Perdita boomed, and pushed her chair back.

Everyone else stood, too, their eagerness to experience the Highland way of life apparent on all their faces. Even Mr. Woo’s.

“The footmen will show you the fishing tackle in the shed by the stables,” Daisy announced. “And there are two lads already at the burn. They’ll lead you to the best fishing spots and give you instructions. When you get back with your catch, we’ll have it for dinner tonight. But don’t forget: before dinner is the sheep-shearing contest.”

“I wouldn’t miss it!” one man said.

There were a few shouts echoing his approval, and then they were gone.

Daisy and her stepmother had the room to themselves. Still on the sofa, Mona picked up Mr. Woo’s cheroot and inhaled, stared at her stepdaughter, then exhaled. “You excel at this, you know.”

“Thank you.” Daisy paused. “I suppose.” Getting a compliment from Mona was not a good thing.

Mona crossed her legs, as if she were settling in for a coze. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh?” Daisy got a bad feeling, but she always did around her stepmother.

Mona took another drag on the cheroot. “It’s time you learned something about that night with Cousin Roman.”

Oh, dear God!

Daisy quickly began to pick up empty cups and plates. “No, it’s not time. Why are you even bringing up such an awkward subject in this place, where we’re surrounded by strangers?”

“You’d best sit down.”

“No. Please. Not now. I’m not at all prepared. Or interested, quite frankly.”

“Sit down,” Mona ordered her. “I’m telling you whether you’re prepared or not.”

Which was typical. Daisy put down the empty dishes and sat, her jaw clenched with distress, her hands balled into fists. It was the last thing she needed, to experience a personal jolt of any kind while the guests were here.

What was wrong with her stepmother? Why was she so … unkind?

“Go ahead,” Daisy muttered.

Mona gave a little laugh, the kind that gave Daisy gooseflesh. “Cassandra drugged your wine that night,” she announced.

Daisy closed her eyes. The words didn’t register at first. She had to let them sink in.

Sour, almost bitter, wine.

A drug.

Heavens, she’d never made the connection!

She shook her head and opened her eyes. “What are you saying?”

Mona let out a long sigh, but she seemed to be quite enjoying herself, swinging her crossed leg back and forth. “She drugged you with Roman’s cooperation. She wanted you asleep so they could put you in his bed.”

“Why? Why would they plot something so wicked?”

“They were hoping you’d appear ruined.”

“Obviously, but it boggles my mind that—”

“It’s quite simple, really. Roman hoped that perhaps your father would make him marry you. Roman needed the money. And if for some reason Barnabas didn’t demand a wedding, Cassandra knew that he’d send you to a school or convent, at the very least.”

“She would have enjoyed that.”

“Yes. She longed to be rid of you.”

“She’s awful.” Daisy felt outrage, but she also felt a sense of relief that she hadn’t been responsible for winding up in Roman’s bed. She knew she couldn’t have drunk that much wine. And she was sure she wouldn’t have gone to bed with Roman, as attractive as he was.

But how could she ever have proven so when the whole night was a blank in her memory?

She never could have. But now … now she knew the truth.

Mona inhaled again on her cheroot. “Of course, Cassandra’s plan didn’t work out quite the way she’d hoped. The fire interfered. No one even noticed you in Roman’s bed. So in a way, luck was on your side when you forgot to snuff that candle.”

“Luck? Luck? There was nothing lucky about any of that night!” Daisy put her head in her hands, then looked up. “Why are you telling me this now? You don’t even like me. It makes no sense. It makes even less sense that you’re willing to betray your own daughter. I don’t trust you.”

“I’m telling you because you’ve made clear your desire to be rid of us, and you’re clever enough to find a way. I want you to remember that I told you the truth.”

Daisy sighed. “If you knew about this before Cassandra carried out the plan, you’re just as responsible.”

Mona sat up. “She told me afterward.”

“Am I supposed to believe you?”

Mona shrugged. “I have no proof.”

“Even if you did find out afterward, you still didn’t tell me. Not only that, you’ve been doing your best the past year to make me feel like a harlot.”

“You’re bright and useful, and it was the only way I could get you to do my bidding. I was misguided, perhaps.”

“Yes,” Daisy whispered, and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I should say so. And now—now you’re sacrificing Cassandra to save yourself.”

“One thing you can’t accuse me of is being stupid, can you? I know what side my bread’s buttered on.”

There was a pause as Daisy tried to adjust to her stepmother’s revelations.

Don’t trust her, a voice in her head warned her.

Daisy could feel her father’s presence as surely as she could see the glow at the end of Mona’s cheroot.

I won’t, Daisy told herself. I never will.

She took a deep breath and faced down her stepmother. “I have to know something. Why would you want to stay? You hate me. You hate Scotland. I think you even hated my father.”

Mona didn’t deny it. “I’m tired. I don’t have it in me anymore to wander the streets, looking for a rich man. And if your Highland venture is successful, perhaps more rich men will come to Glen Dewey.”

“Men like Mr. Woo.”

“Yes.” Mona chuckled. “In London, he might not give me the time of day. But here, in Scotland, in this magnificent setting at the Keep, I look more interesting, don’t you think?”

Daisy felt bitter. So bitter. Mona was admitting that she’d married her father for security, not love. Daisy wasn’t surprised, but how had her father been so taken in? All she could guess was that it was grief over her mother’s death that had made him susceptible to Mona’s charms. When the woman wanted to put them on, she had them.

No doubt, she could find another rich, naïve man to entrap.

Despite her wobbly knees, Daisy forced herself to stand and walk about the room, keeping her distance from the woman she despised. “So you’re saying that if I show patience with you and see that the gatherings of rich sportsmen continue, that someday you’ll marry again and leave for good.”

“Yes.”

Daisy stopped in front of a large arched window with a view of Glen Dewey below. “But what of my own marriage? To the viscount? I won’t be here to find you a rich husband. I’ll be in London. Very soon.”

“It’s simple.” Mona laughed. “You won’t be marrying him. All it would take is one word from me or Cassandra to send him running from you, and you know it. So get marriage to him out of your mind.”

The woman was diabolical, but Daisy refused to give up. She would best her.

She thought out her next words carefully. “But if you do sabotage my engagement and I’m left here to pine away, I won’t lift a finger to bring in more rich gentlemen for you. Not only that, I’ll find a way to rid myself of you. You’ll have to seek your wealthy husband elsewhere. So ruin my life … and I’ll ruin yours.”

“It’s a gamble I’ll take,” said Mona. “You’re all talk at this point. You don’t have a plan to get rid of me, or you would have by now. And here’s a warning: I stick like glue. After a while, you’ll realize that the best plan to rid yourself of me is to do exactly what I said you should: bring in more rich gentlemen to a Highland gathering.”

Daisy’s heart sank. It seemed that Mona had it all figured out.

Mona’s smirk sent shivers through her. “I can tell you’re seeing sense. And if you get rid of me, at least you’d no longer have to suffer the fate of being my lifelong companion.”

“I suppose not.” She’d never fall in with that plan. “Perdita’s useless. But she’ll have to do.”

“And what of Cassandra?” Daisy asked.

“She’ll marry the viscount.”

“He won’t have her.”

“All men can be won.” Mona shrugged.

“Lumley is too intelligent, too kind, too savvy to fall for Cassandra’s machinations!” Daisy felt ill at the thought.

“So was your father,” Mona said. “But I got him. Didn’t I?”

Daisy was once again rocked to her foundations. “I hate you. You used my father. He was a good man, and he didn’t deserve to be so ill treated.”

Mona shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

But Daisy refused to give in to despair. “You won’t win. I don’t know how I’ll stop you, but you won’t win.”

Mona sauntered to the window and gazed out. “I suggest you pull your head out of the sand and listen.” She turned around. “You need to understand that Perdita and I aren’t the enemy. Cassandra is. I didn’t say I longed for her to marry the viscount, did I? She wants to, and what she wants, she gets—especially if you have it first.”

Daisy’s chest expanded with indignation. “But you’re her mother! It’s your duty to rear your daughters with principles. And you’ve done a terrible job, I might add.”

Mona inclined her head. “You’re not just a little bit jealous that Cassandra is going to get what she wants—and you won’t? She’s got everything you don’t have, you know.”

“No, I’m not jealous. The last person on earth I’d envy is Cassandra.”

Mona’s eyes glittered. “I wasn’t going to do this, but you’re making me. You Highlanders are a stubborn lot.” She reached into her bodice and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Read this.”

It was very old. And somehow familiar.

The seal.

She knew whose seal that was!

Slowly, Daisy unfolded it and immediately recognized the writing as well:

My dear Barnabas,

She’s a precious little thing with smoky gray eyes and a tuft of ebony hair. As you desired, Miss Hausenstab is calling her Cassandra and will treat her with the same loving care I’ve seen her show her own infant daughter Perdita.

I don’t know how I can be of service to little Cassandra, but as her godmother, I’ll consider it my duty and privilege to keep both you and your sweet baby girl in my thoughts and prayers always.

Your old friend,

Lady Pinckney née Lucy Warren

Daisy’s knees began to tremble, and she sank onto the sofa. Mona was Miss Hausenstab. “Where did you get this note?”

Mona sighed. “Didn’t you ever wonder how your father and I found each other to marry? It was no mere coincidence.”

“Where—did—you—get—it?” Daisy’s jaw wobbled.

Mona plopped down on the sofa next to her. “Barnabas kept it in a drawer in his desk, where he kept all his important papers.”

“Who—who’s Lucy Warren?” Of course, Daisy already knew, but what did Mona know about her?

Mona shrugged. “Some well-born girl Barnabas insisted on having involved in the adoption. I could’ve done without her interference and was glad to see her nosy self disappear after she saw us settled in London.”

Daisy could hardly breathe. “I’ve got to go.”

“It’s an awful lot to take in,” said Mona blithely. “Cassandra is Barnabas’s daughter, your half sister. She’s not my daughter in the least. She’s actually older than you by three months, but we told both of you she’s younger.”

“Why?”

“So you’d have the privilege of being the eldest when we married. Barnabas felt he owed you that. It’s why you’re Miss Montgomery. He didn’t want you displaced.”

“Does Cassandra know?”

“Yes.”

“And she managed to keep it a secret from me? I wonder why?”

“Because I told her if she doesn’t, she’ll get the same treatment I give you.”

“That’s a good reason.” Daisy restrained a shudder, thinking of the number of times Mona had locked her in her room. “But why didn’t you want me to know the truth after Papa died?”

“I was saving it for when I could get the most use out of it.”

“Tell me more, please, about how this all started.”

Mona lofted a brow. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Barnabas had an affair with a London actress a few months before he met your mother,” Mona said. “Cassandra was the result. Haven’t you ever wondered how someone who looks like me could produce such a breathtaking beauty?”

“Not really.” Of course Daisy had, but she wouldn’t tell Mona that. It would be too cruel.

“At any rate,” Mona went on, “after years alone, with occasional money coming in from your father, I contacted him and told him Cassandra was grown. He couldn’t resist wanting to see her, and when he did … I worked my wiles. It made perfect sense. He was grieving. And he got his daughter back. Somehow, I think he thought she’d fill the hole in his heart left by your mother’s death.”

Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. “Did she?”

Mona shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Daisy’s heart clenched—she’d thought she was her father’s North Star, that she’d been the one to pull him out of his grief.

“I—I must go,” she said to Mona, and raced from the room.

Her stepmother was right. It was an awful lot to take in. Cassandra was her real sister? Her older sister? Her father’s firstborn child?

How shocking.

How terrible.

How wrong.

What of Daisy’s relationship with her father? Had he loved her less than he’d loved Cassandra? He must have loved Cassandra a great deal to have married someone as unpleasant as Mona.

For the first time, Daisy felt the stirrings of jealousy toward Cassandra.

But she also saw Cassandra in a new light. No wonder her stepsister despised her. In the bosom of her loving family, Daisy had gotten everything Cassandra hadn’t over the years.

It all made more sense now.

Daisy needed to say something out loud about the situation, or she would burst from all the mixed emotions she felt. Into the looking glass in her bedchamber, she whispered, “Cassandra is my father’s daughter. My sister.”

Not only did they share the same father, Cassandra wanted to steal away Daisy’s viscount!

Daisy’s fear and jealousy compounded.

You’re being illogical, she told herself. Cassandra is rude and unhelpful, even cruel. Charlie can’t stand her.

But still. Her own father had been taken in by Mona.

Could Charlie go the same route and be fooled by Cassandra?

The entire revelation was still too big a notion to take in … Daisy would have to spend some time contemplating it.

Meanwhile, she also had to deal with the second verbal grenade Mona had thrown her way. It involved the old letter Daisy still had tucked away in her turret room at Castle Vandemere, the note from Lady Pinckney to Barnabas—the one that had spurred Daisy on to write Lady Pinckney for help with getting the four hundred pounds.

After reading the second letter, now Daisy knew Lady Pinckney was more than someone who’d once been an old friend or paramour of her father’s—she was Cassandra’s godmother, not hers.