If You Give A Girl A Viscount

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A week later, Charlie opened one eye and saw Daisy curled next to him, sleeping peacefully. No wonder she hadn’t woken yet. Yesterday had been another long day with the visitors, a large part of it spent indoors because of rain. And it was followed by another heady night of passion between them which demanded to be sated several times over.

As if she knew she were being watched by him, Daisy opened her eyes and smiled. “It’s a braw, bricht day, I can tell already,” she said. “It has to be. Tonight’s the ceilidh.”

When she looked at him then, with all that happiness and hope shining in her eyes, he realized something very important: he loved her. He loved everything about her.

The knowledge shook him to the core.

But he couldn’t think about it now. The feeling was too precious. He must savor it alone today. Explore what it meant.

“As it’s our last day at the Keep,” he said, “I think I’ll go fishing. Alone.”

“Alone?”

He nodded. “I have some thinking to do.”

“About what?”

He kissed her. “Life, I suppose. And how magical it can be when you’re sleeping with the same beautiful woman every night.”

Daisy sighed. “I don’t know how I could have survived the past week without our nights together.”

“You’ve had some shocking news to digest. Who ever would have thought your worst enemy would turn out to be your very own sister?”

She grinned. “I know. The Fates have a diabolical sense of humor, don’t they? Along those lines, I can’t help thinking it would be perfect if Mr. King proposed to Cassandra tonight. He’d take her away to America. And I’d never have to worry about seeing her again. I suppose I should be sad, as she’s my sister, but I’m not. We’re still not talking. Except for this odd comment she made to me days ago about my needing to buy myself a nicer gown. It wasn’t exactly spiteful sounding. It was almost as if … she wanted me to have a pretty frock.” She bit her lip. “I’m sure I misunderstood her. But there’s a chance I didn’t, of course, and the truth is—I want her to have a pretty frock, too. For tonight. Every woman should look beautiful.”

“Including yourself,” said Charlie. “Do you have a new gown?”

“No.”

Charlie sighed. “You should get one.”

“Too late,” she said nonchalantly, then sat up on her elbows. Much to Charlie’s delight, she forgot to pull up the covers, exposing her beautiful, pert breasts to the morning light.

“Oh, dear,” she whispered.

“Oh, dear, is right,” Charlie answered her. He leaned down and kissed her neck. “Somehow I can’t think about your new sister at the moment. Or your lack of new gown, as much as that dismays me. I want to talk about us. You’ve made me the most creative lover in the world.”

“Have I?”

“Indeed you have.” He ran a hand over her silken breast. “We’ve been sleeping together—”

“We’ve done more than sleep together—”

“Yes, for over a week now. I believe we win a prize for showing incredible ingenuity and forbearance. You’re as virgin as you ever were.”

“What’s the prize?”

He whispered in her ear.

“Oh, I adore that notion!” She grinned again. “Remember the night we weren’t allowed to touch each other?”

“How could I forget? It was all your fault, by the way.”

“What you’re suggesting now is even more torturous!”

“And you love it.”

She pulled him closer until they were nose to nose. “I do.”

It was hard to believe the days had flown by so fast, and their guests appeared to be more enthralled with the Highlands than ever. The village had outdone itself in welcoming their visitors by heaping lavish attention upon them at the Keep, on the hunt, and at the games which followed.

And through it all, Mr. King had spent every moment he could with Cassandra.

At the hunt, Mr. King brought home the largest buck, but Cassandra hadn’t appeared to be impressed. He’d also participated in all of the games afterward … the caber tossing, stone lifting, and speed races, and won his share of glory. But Cassandra merely watched all the proceedings with a smug smile and showed no apparent favor to him whatsoever, which only served to pique his interest in her more.

“Do you think Cassandra favors him?” Daisy asked Charlie now.

“I think she might. I got my first inkling of that yesterday.”

Daisy sucked in a breath. “Do you really think so?”

Charlie shrugged. “She allowed him to walk her home from the village. You know what happened to us on that walk home.”

Daisy blushed. “The Stone Steps. But surely Cassandra wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t be so … wanton?” He kissed her nose.

“Yes,” she said, and pushed him playfully away.

“Well, whatever happened on the way home, she spoke to him all through dinner.”

Daisy bit her lip. “I really think she likes him.”

“Did she say much else?”

“No. Although she blurted out that she thinks he’s very, very rich. What do you think that means?”

Charlie grinned. “Knowing Cassandra, she means she’s interested in becoming his wife.”

“I do believe you’re right. So there’s room for hope there. I wonder why she gave up on pursuing you? Ever since our mud escapade, she’s avoided you like the plague.”

Charlie brushed some hair off Daisy’s forehead. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps she’s being a good sister.”

“Hah,” said Daisy. “I’m sure she has a nefarious motive. Although a tiny part of me is rather curious about this new Cassandra. She’s as rude as ever and takes great pleasure in laughing at other people’s shortcomings, but she hasn’t engaged me in direct insults in days. I almost miss them.”

“I want you to know,” Charlie said in all seriousness, “that even before this conversation, I’d planned to ask Mr. King exactly what his intentions are—tonight before the ball in the privacy of the library. Cassandra is not my sister, but now we know she’s yours. And as you’re my grandmother’s goddaughter”—and the woman I love, he thought—“I feel a certain responsibility toward her.”

Daisy blushed so red, her ears turned pink.

“What is it?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she choked out.

“Are you sure?”

She wore a pensive expression. “About being your grandmother’s goddaughter—”

“Yes?”

She stared at him a moment, then shrugged. “I’m glad I am, that’s all.”

“I’m glad, too,” he said. “I never would have met you, otherwise.”

She kissed his cheek. “I appreciate your concern about Cassandra, but please don’t corner Mr. King. He’s a sophisticated man. He’ll show his colors tonight without needing any push. Just you wait and see.”

Charlie hesitated. He couldn’t forget what the Virginian had said about Daisy on the first day they’d met. Yet Mr. King’s remark—when Charlie thought about it—was typical of a man of the world speaking to another man of the world. Should he really have held it against his visitor all this while?

Yes, said a voice in his head. Don’t make excuses for him. It was in poor taste. And it says something about who he is and the rules by which he plays.

“I think waiting for him to make the first move with your stepsister is a mistake,” Charlie said.

“Why?”

“He’s toying with her. He can go home and say he had an amusing time in the Highlands with a local English girl. I know his kind. Rich, powerful … bored.”

“Oh, Charlie.” Daisy sighed, the bedsheet wrapped around her lovely form. “You mean well, but you’re wrong. He’s devoted to her.”

“I know it seems that way. But you don’t know how men in his position can be.”

“Every sign he’s shown has been so clear—he’s in love!”

“Love?”

Daisy nodded. “Of course.”

Charlie sighed. “It could be mere infatuation. What do you know of love?”

She stared at him, at a loss for words.

“That’s too hard a question to ask me,” she said eventually. “I’m too busy to think about love—I have to think about securing a castle.” A small squiggle of annoyance furrowed her brow. “What do you know about love?”

He didn’t know what it was—yet—but he knew he loved her. He loved her so much, he couldn’t live without her.

So what should he say?

“Nothing, I suppose,” he said, feeling as if that were the truth. For now.

“We must take a gamble, then,” said Daisy. “I’ve already begun a secret project to make Cassandra look extra beautiful tonight.”

“Oh?”

“The women of the village have been making her a special gown in secret. And Mr. Glass has donated a gorgeous pair of slippers for her—they’re exquisite!” She clapped her hands in delight. “Of course, I won’t tell her I thought of it. Let her think someone else did. It would be most awkward if she knew—”

“I’m afraid you’re setting her up for failure.”

Daisy sucked in a breath. “That’s a terrible accusation to make.”

“I know you mean well.” He took her by the shoulders. “But trust me on this. I am the type of man I’m warning you about. When I’m not here and not in my parents’ bad books, I’m a rich man about town with not a care in the world. And I’d do exactly what I think Mr. King will—leave her without remorse.”

Daisy’s eyes widened at that. But he’d had to tell her the truth.

He also had to remind himself of the truth.

I am that man.

Would Daisy be that woman, the one he’d leave behind so he could keep his freedom?

Shaken by questions he wasn’t sure how to answer, he rolled out of bed and got dressed. Daisy was silent, watching him with large eyes.

“I think I’d best go now,” he said. He tried to smile at her. But it was difficult somehow.

She nodded. “All right,” she said in a sad whisper.

Charlie hesitated. “There’s something you should know,” he said. “I haven’t told you because it’s a moot point, really. But it may help you understand.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “My friends in London put me up to a bet. They dared me to spend nothing until I return to London. It shouldn’t be difficult, as I was cut off from my family accounts, right?”

She nodded, her gaze wary.

“But I’m a wealthy man on my own, and I had enough money stashed that I could have gotten here in comfort. Perhaps I could have even scraped together your four hundred pounds.”

A small pucker formed on Daisy’s brow.

“But I took their challenge. I got to Scotland on the back of wagons—”

“One of them must have carried turnips,” she murmured, a small grin curving her lips despite the bleak tone of their conversation.

“Right.” He gave a short laugh, remembering. “My point is, I took the bet. And if I lose, I go on the Marriage Mart, which to me … is anathema.”

The remnants of the grin on Daisy’s mouth disappeared.

“The bet was meant to prove to myself that I’m more than the balance in my accounts,” Charlie struggled on, hating how with every word he spoke, the atmosphere in the room became more depressing. “But to the world, the wager must appear shallow. Especially because of the stakes.”

“If you win this bet, you can dine out on it for months,” Daisy said slowly. “Telling stories of your little adventure. And all your wealthy friends will tell you how much they admire you for enduring the hardships. And you’ll say, ‘Wouldn’t you have? Considering what I would have lost—my freedom.’ And then you’ll pull out your purse of gold coins and buy everyone a round of drinks.”

“Yes,” he said. “It will likely go something like that.”

They stared at each other a few moments.

“I’m glad you told me.” Her brow was smooth, and her eyes revealed nothing.

For the first time, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

But it couldn’t be good.

When she rolled over and faced the wall without kissing him farewell, he left the room without another word.

Looking out her window at the Keep, Daisy could see people streaming up from Glen Dewey, everyone in their finery. She wore one of Perdita’s muslin gowns, cut down, along with the thistle pin Hester had given her. She felt a twinge of remorse that she hadn’t spent more time on her appearance, but she hadn’t had time.

Besides, she’d felt rather numb all day. Her talk with Charlie had left her feeling terribly blue and unsettled.

She didn’t like what she’d heard, that Charlie was capable of attaching himself to people and then leaving. And the bet he was embroiled in was proof that he was a man who lived for adventure—and who didn’t want to marry.

He’d never pretended to be anything else, even in their most intimate moments, when their eyes would lock and something magical would thrum in the air between them.

So why had she felt on the verge of tears since the morning?

When Perdita came unexpectedly to her bedchamber dressed as the Highlander, her gait was slower than usual, and she twisted her tartan sash in worried fashion.

“Is everything all right?” Daisy asked her, glad to get away from her own glum thoughts.

“No.” Perdita sank onto the bed, a picture of misery. “I need to tell you something. It’s very important.”

Daisy sat next to her. “What is it?” She had no idea—it could be anything.

Perdita heaved a huge sigh. “I can’t be the … me I want to be.”

Daisy was silent a moment, taken aback by the raw emotion in her stepsister’s voice. “What do you mean?”

Perdita shook her head. “It’s complicated. I’ve always said you’re the plain one, but we both know I am. You just don’t try very hard. If you did, you’d be beautiful.” She looked at Daisy with genuine frustration and concern. “You should try. It’s not right to hide. I know Mother is the one making you so afraid to be the young lady you were meant to be.”

Daisy was touched at the sisterly advice. “You’re very kind to care. I—I didn’t realize I was hiding, but you’re probably right. Perhaps I should try harder. And you’re not plain.”

“Oh, yes I am. I’m more than plain. I’m ugly.”

“Perdita—”

Her stepsister held up her hand. “It’s true. But that’s all right. Because I’ve found a way to like who I am.”

“Tell me.”

Perdita chuckled. “I love playing the son of a son of a Highland chief. No one makes fun of my loud voice and my big shoulders.” Her face lit up. “You should have seen me on the hunt. I was good, one of the best hunters there. Men were coming up to me and complimenting me on my skill.”

“That’s wonderful!” Daisy marveled at how attractive Perdita was when she was enthused. She didn’t at all resemble the dour girl Daisy had always known.

“But I can’t be a Highlander forever.” Perdita’s expression drooped. “For one, I need to be able to say more than aye, nay, and slainte.”

“True.”

“And”—Perdita paused, as if it were hard for her to say—“as the Highlander, I can’t win the man I want.”

“Oh, dear,” Daisy said. “Do you still admire Mr. King?”

Perdita shook her head. “I thought I did, but he laughs like a donkey. And he has a tendre for Cassandra.”

“Right.” Daisy tried not to chuckle at the description of Mr. King.

“So on the hunting trip,” Perdita went on, “I did my best to meet the other men. And I found one I like even more than Mr. King.”

“Who?”

“The Spanish marquis. He asked me to call him Pablo, but of course, I never did. I said nothing beyond aye, nay, and slainte.”

“How difficult that must have been.”

“It was. He talked long into the night about life while I listened. We looked at the stars, and he taught me the different constellations. He also told me stories about his boyhood at his castle in Spain. I fell in love with him more each night.”

“You did?” Daisy felt a glimmer of hope for her sister. She had a heart. That was good to know.

Perdita nodded. “But it’s hopeless. He admires me because I’m a fierce Highlander. He asked if I would care to go shooting with him on his estate in Spain. He told me I would enjoy his cigars and brandy, and that the women in Spain were beautiful.” She gulped. “He can’t like me … that way, as a woman. We speak only man to man.”

Daisy laid a hand on her arm. “Oh, but he does like you as a woman! I saw him looking down your gown the very first night. And he was most attentive to your needs. He pulled out your chair—”

“He did pass me the salt and pepper without my having to ask.”

“Yes, and don’t you remember he said, ‘How do you do?’ when you first sat down?”

“I forgot about that.”

“He saw you as a woman, I promise you. And he liked what he saw.”

Perdita perked up. “Are you sure?”

Daisy nodded. “Most definitely. He even asked after you several times when you were purportedly ill, which leaves me no doubt he was interested in pursuing your acquaintance.” She sighed. “I wish you could tell him who you really are. I’m so … sorry. If he finds out we were fooling him—”

“He’ll be angry,” said Perdita. “All the visitors will be. They’ll feel we were making fun of them, and then they won’t pay us any money. Which means we’ll be back where we started.”

“Perdita—” Daisy felt a terrible jolt of guilt. “I want you to be happy. And there must be a way out of this dilemma with the marquis.” She bit her lip and thought for a moment, then gave a little chuckle. “Perhaps the son of a son of a Highland chief can’t come tonight. It’s his turn to be ill. Surely no visitor will penalize us for not having him at the ceilidh. You’ve been so good all week long. It’s time for Perdita to reemerge from the sick room, don’t you think?”

Perdita smiled. “I like that.” She took off her cap, and her frizzy brown hair fell about her shoulders. “But won’t they recognize me?”

“I very much doubt they will,” Daisy said. “First of all, they have no reason to suspect that you’d ever have call to pose as a man. But more importantly, you look like a woman in love.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You’re softer. In every way. Even your voice.”

Perdita blinked rapidly. “I like being soft,” she whispered, which was still a bit loud. But she was doing better than she’d ever done before.

“I think you should stay seated in an inconspicuous spot,” Daisy said, “away from blazing candles, somewhat in the shadows. That way we’ll have no fear of your being unveiled as our Highlander. And you’ll also appear quite mysterious.”

“I’ve heard that men love mystery,” Perdita said. “They told me themselves, on the hunt. I heard some shocking things about how they feel about women.”

“I’m sure you did.” Daisy patted her hand. “Speak only to the marquis, whom I shall send your way, I promise. When he asks you to dance—and he will—tell him you will dance only outside, under the moonlight.”

“But it’s summer in the Highlands. It will be day all night long.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Daisy bit her thumb. “Never mind about the moonlight. But dance close to him.”

“I see.”

“And then when you’re dancing … kiss him.” Daisy thought about how much she loved kissing Charlie.

“Kiss him?”

“Yes. Lean forward and kiss him. Be bold as brass. Sometimes being bold as brass can be a good thing. Especially when time is running out.”

Perdita laughed. “You’re right. The men on the hunt said they like modesty, but they also like women who aren’t afraid to enjoy the realm of physical pleasures. They want both, they said.”

“Yes. It’s confusing, isn’t it? A woman must be all things to them. But what do you have to lose? The marquis leaves tomorrow. After you kiss him, perhaps something else will happen. Perhaps a true attachment will form. And that’s what you want. Sometimes to get what you want, what you know is right for you, you have to risk everything.”

Tears formed in Perdita’s eyes. “This is my only chance.”

“Perdita?”

“Yes?”

Daisy smiled at her. “I hope all your dreams come true.”

“Really, Daisy? You don’t hate me?”

Daisy shook her head. “Absolutely not. I used to, I must admit. Until quite recently. But I happen to think your mother was a very bad influence on us all. I haven’t tried as hard with you as I should have.” She hugged her.

Perdita hugged her back so hard, it hurt, but Daisy managed to refrain from gasping.

“Mother is a bitch, isn’t she?” Perdita said.

It was most definitely a rhetorical question.

They both laughed together.

“Somehow I don’t think she’ll ever change,” Daisy said. For the first time ever in their whole lives, a beat of cozy sister silence passed. “Now where is Cassandra? We need her help getting you ready. And then we must see that she’s ready.”

“She found a lovely new gown and slippers on her bed,” said Perdita.

“Interesting,” said Daisy, and left the room with a secret smile.

It seemed that all the women who were now gathered in the ballroom for the ceilidh—except for Mona, who was already drunk and sitting in a corner pouting—practically glowed with good cheer, their beautiful gowns giving them the confidence to act like young girls again. The men jostled each other, eyed their newly beautified mates, and looked more lighthearted than Daisy had seen them since her father had died.

As soon as the musicians finished setting up their corner, she knew the ceilidh would be a roaring success. The visitors would leave with many fine memories of their Highland experience, and the villagers would be more united than ever.

Anticipation made the room hum with excitement. Peering around heads and shoulders, Daisy looked for Cassandra and Mr. King in the crowd. Although Charlie had warned her that rich, powerful men typically entertained themselves with many women, flirting shamelessly with them and pretending devotion to their every need and want, Daisy didn’t want to believe it of Mr. King. She hoped he’d come to care for Cassandra.

The pipes began their droning. The fiddlers practiced a few notes.

The crowd grew louder than ever.

In a moment, Charlie would call the room to order and open the ceilidh with her.

But first, where was Cassandra? Daisy saw Hester in the corner, speaking with Perdita, who sat docilely in her chair, far away from the action. Next, Daisy swung around and saw the Spanish marquis, at the other end of the ballroom. There was Mr. Woo and every single other visiting gentleman except Mr. King. Joe was ensconced in a group of men obviously talking shinty, as one of them swung an invisible shinty stick.

All the village women were there, including a new mother who looked dazzling in her crisp new gown from Mrs. Gordon’s shop.

The footmen and maids were scattered about the room, already serving punch and various savories and sweets. Charlie was speaking to the head musician.

Daisy stood on a chair. She was starting to get a tad worried.

Cassandra was missing. And where was Mr. King?

They weren’t in the ballroom. She hastened out into the hall. But there was no butler. The man she’d assigned that position had joined the festivities, and why not? He wasn’t a real butler, after all.

She went back through the ballroom and through a door leading to the back gardens. No one was there, either, save a young lad and lass from the village. Daisy caught them kissing, and they both drew apart.

The girl gasped. “I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery.”

“It’s quite all right,” she said. “I mean … you should probably come inside, both of you.” She was beginning to panic. “You haven’t seen Miss Cassandra, have you?”

The girl shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“I saw her with Mr. King,” said the boy. “Just a few minutes ago.”

“Where?” Daisy could hardly breathe. She had no idea why she was panicking. Mr. King was foolish and prideful, but he was also clever and accomplished. She wasn’t bad to have hoped for a match between him and Cassandra.

Yet at this moment, she felt as if she’d made a huge mistake—and possibly thrown her half sister to a lion.

“He was walking her to the stables,” the boy said. “I caught a glimpse of them as I was coming round the east wing of the castle.”

Daisy pushed right past them and ran to the stables.

But when she got there, it was too late.