Kieran Kramer - If You Give A Girl A Viscount

“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.