Kieran Kramer - If You Give A Girl A Viscount

“So, my lord,” Cassandra was saying now, as if the under-the-table maneuvers had never taken place, “you look comfortable in my late stepfather’s clothing.”

“I am, thank you,” Daisy heard him say in equally smooth tones. “I’m very grateful to you all for providing me with them.”

Daisy took a sip of wine. She’d caught a glimpse of him as she’d walked in. He’d cut a fine figure in her father’s coat—although it was a trifle tight across the shoulders. She’d felt a brief combination of sorrow and happiness at seeing the garment, curious to get closer to it—to the viscount—to suss out whether he deserved to wear it. She wasn’t sure anyone did.

Yet Mona had kept Lord Lumley trapped in conversation, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him.

And now …

Now it was as if she didn’t exist.

“You look like the Golden Prince,” Perdita said.

Lord Lumley laid down his fork. “Why, thank you—I think. Who is he?”

Perdita was so overcome by his direct gaze, her lips clamped tight. She was holding her breath, Daisy knew.

“There’s a legend that the owner of Castle Vandemere will find true love at the ball held on the final night of the great hunt,” she explained on her stepsister’s behalf.

The viscount swiveled to look at Daisy, and she heard Perdita release a great huff of air. Lord Lumley didn’t even flinch. Instead, he leaned over, presumably to see Daisy better around Cassandra.

“Can you tell me more?” he asked her politely.

She could see only the right side of his face as Cassandra was blocking most of him. “Did you see that stained-glass window in the drawing room?”

She knew, of course, that he had. He’d kissed her right below it. He couldn’t have missed it.

“Indeed, I did,” he answered her.

She saw a spark of something flash in his eye. Was he remembering that kiss?

“That’s the Golden Prince,” Daisy explained, “holding hands with the Golden Girl. They’re the first pair of many lovers who supposedly declared themselves here at the castle on the night of the hunt ball.”

“But they no longer have a great hunt around here,” Cassandra interrupted rudely, “or balls, or any eligible men, for that matter. It’s dull as dishwater.”

“It’s a perfectly charming legend,” Lord Lumley said helpfully.

“But legends are for dreamers,” Mona said.

“Idiots, more like,” Perdita added with a snort of laughter.

Mona cackled with her. Cassandra smiled into her wine.

Daisy felt a stab of hurt on behalf of her parents, who’d treasured the legend and the bit of stained glass that preserved it.

“Legends become legends for a reason,” she said. “There is something special about Castle Vandemere. I feel it every time I look at the Golden Prince and the Golden Girl.”

The laughter immediately ceased, and there was another uncomfortable silence. Daisy was grateful for the epergne. She could sense the disapproval emanating from the other three women.

The viscount’s face—what she could see of it—wore an inscrutable expression. “Excuse me, Mrs. Montgomery,” he said, “but I can’t see all the members of our party. Might we move the centerpiece, as attractive as it is?”

Daisy’s heart almost stopped. She was the only one he couldn’t see!

Why would he want to see me? was her first thought. But then told herself—because Hester would be angry at her for thinking otherwise—that she was well worth seeing, even though she didn’t believe it and her stepmother and stepsisters didn’t believe it, either.

Of course, she must remember she was the viscount’s supposed fiancée, as well. That should count for something.

“Perhaps we could move the thing,” Mona said in desultory fashion. “Daisy, you take care of it. The old man, wherever he is at the moment, is useless. He might as well be dead for all the good he does us.”

“His name is Joe, Stepmother,” Daisy said through gritted teeth. “And he may be old, but please don’t suggest he’s better off dead. I care very much about him.”

When Daisy stood, she could feel Cassandra’s eyes boring into her, but she refused to look that way, which meant she also made no eye contact with the viscount.

“ I’ll do the honors,” he said, and stood. “Please be seated, Miss Montgomery.”

She did as he asked, her chest constricting when she saw the look Mona directed at her. It wasn’t pleasant.

Nevertheless, she sat with her brow smoothed out and her hands clenched, unseen, in her lap. Lord Lumley lifted the bulky object, carefully avoiding the flaming candle tapers on either side, and put the epergne on the sideboard, where it had always sat when her father had been alive.

When the viscount returned to his seat, he turned to her, a half-smile tilting one corner of his mouth. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

In the candlelight, his brown eyes had warm golden tints. Her heart gave a little flutter. He was handsome.

He was the Golden Prince!

Hester, and now Perdita, had noticed the same uncanny resemblance.

Daisy allowed herself only a close-lipped smile. “It’s much better, thank you.”

Mona and Cassandra stared daggers at her, but that was nothing new, so Daisy’s appetite wasn’t affected in the least. She ate heartily of her trout and potatoes, which Hester dished out liberally to her, knowing Mona wouldn’t object while the viscount was present. Mona and Cassandra dominated the conversation with their inane prattle. Perdita had a tendency to moan her appreciation of her dinner while she chewed, so for the most part, she said little. The viscount appeared to listen attentively to the one-sided conversation, but Daisy could swear she saw his jaw tighten as the minutes passed.

“So the village is quite dull,” Mona was saying. She punctuated the statement with an enormous sigh, which caused her massive bosom to jiggle. She was wearing her most low-cut gown, a vulgar puce sheath, and her hair was topped with a matching turban sporting three dyed feathers.

Cassandra, arresting in a golden gown of Grecian design, lifted a lovely shoulder. “Mother’s right.” She made a delicate moue that Daisy had seen her practice in front of a looking glass a thousand times. “There’s nothing to do up here in Scotland.”

The viscount put down his glass. “Nothing?”

Perdita let out a particularly ill-timed moan—not that Daisy could blame her. Hester’s trout and potatoes were excellent.

“There are many things,” Daisy interjected hastily.

Everyone turned to her. Mona and Cassandra were stone-faced.

Oh, dear, Daisy thought. Perhaps she shouldn’t have spoken. But it was too late now.

Gathering her courage, she cleared her throat. “There’s trout and salmon fishing. And deer stalking. And every year, after a massive hunt, there used to be a competition in which men raced each other up Ben Fennon. And you should have seen them toss cabers, which are like large tree trunks. They even lifted enormous rocks in feats of strength. To conclude the festivities, there was a ceilidh … a dance.”

“I knew all that, of course,” Lord Lumley told her, merriment dancing in his eyes.

And then he smiled.

Perdita gasped out loud. Daisy nearly slid down her chair. When he smiled, he was—

Magnificent .

Handsome wasn’t a big enough word.

She inhaled a discreet breath to compose herself. “Then why did you allow me to boast of our vast array of amusements, sir?” She grinned back, just a little. “Not that I’ll allow myself to feel foolish. My boasting was completely justified.”

“It was,” he agreed, and looked round at the other women at the table. “Which is why I dared not interrupt. It appears some people here aren’t aware of the exciting opportunities to be had in the Highlands.”