Lady Pinckney tilted her head in a friendly manner and smiled at them all. She had the same eyes as Charlie: a rich, warm brown. “It’s a delight to meet you,” she murmured.
Daisy curtsied, but she forgot to breathe. She gave a nervous smile but couldn’t speak, and her hands grew cold with nerves.
“Your eyes haven’t changed,” Lady Pinckney said to her. “So expressive they were, even when you were a baby.”
“R-really?” Daisy was amazed. “But—”
She wasn’t her goddaughter. Cassandra was. She stole a look about the room. Where was Cassandra?
And then she caught some movement outside the window and saw Cassandra hand in hand with Mr. Beebs. They appeared lost to the world as they moved through the small garden.
“No buts, Miss Montgomery,” Lady Pinckney said. “Now come with me. We have some talking to do. And when we’re done, I have something to give you.”
“Now just wait a minute,” Mona broke in rudely. “This girl doesn’t have my permission to leave yet.” She looked over Lady Pinckney with a disdainful eye.
Lady Pinckney trained her own intimidating gaze on Mona. “She will come with me. Oh, yes, one thing more. You, Mrs. Montgomery, are not invited to tonight’s ceilidh.”
Mona would have gasped, but she was apparently so shocked that she merely gulped.
No one else said a word. Perdita broke a stick in a malevolent fashion but froze in place when Lady Pinckney cleared her throat with authority.
“Come, Daisy.” She moved toward the door. “I won’t bite, you know.” She threw a warning glance at Mona. “Unless highly provoked,” she added, then turned her back and glided regally outside.
Daisy followed as if she’d had a spell cast upon her.
At the door, she looked back to see that the room seemed to be under a spell, too. No one said a word. They were still, their eyes wide with either respect, fear, admiration, or hatred, depending upon who they were.
And then she had the sad thought that Charlie must have gotten a great deal of his strong will from his grandmother. She’d bet Lady Pinckney had the same sense of adventure, too, that Charlie did.
Indeed, it seemed that Lady Pinckney was a real force of nature, and Daisy felt rather proud of her connection to her—even though she’d been highly mistaken as to that connection, which was really no longer a connection at all.
The knowledge that all her ties to Charlie’s family were broken made Daisy miss him more than ever.
In the fresh outdoors, Lady Pinckney insisted on taking off her bonnet and walking in the sun. “I like how Highland lasses wear braids and forsake bonnets,” she said. “It’s perfectly charming.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Daisy replied.
With a hefty sigh, the lady linked her arm with hers. “What am I to do with you, Daisy?”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lady Pinckney laughed. “Of course you do. I want you to come to my grandson’s ball. Yet you wrote a note declining.”
Daisy bit her lip. “I didn’t know you’d be there. Had I known, I would have …” She hesitated.
“Accepted?”
They were strolling along a slow-moving burn, the sun casting dots of gold on the water.
“No, my lady.” Daisy looked bashfully at her. “I would have declined—but gone in disguise so I could peek at you.”
“Pooh,” said Lady Pinckney. “You’ve no reason to hide from Charlie. And please call me Lucy.”
“I daren’t. You’re a lady, my lady.”
“I insist. All my goddaughters do. Before I was a lady, I was a girl. Just like you. And I still am, beneath all the folderol that goes along with being a member of high society.”
“All right.” Daisy chuckled. She adored the woman already. “But, Lucy, I’m not hiding from Charlie. I love him, actually.” She stood still, and felt tears prick her eyelids. “But he thinks he’ll never be able to trust me because I wanted Castle Vandemere so badly. It would always stand between us. Did I marry him for a pile of stones I happen to adore—or not? He’d always ask that question.”
Lucy pursed her lips. “All his wealth has made him quite defensive. So many women have come after him just for his money, you know.”
“I’ve no doubt,” said Daisy. “That’s what I wanted from him, too.” She picked a leaf off a nearby chestnut tree and folded it, over and over. When she was done, she looked up at Lucy. “But I want him more. So much more. I tried to tell him that, but he didn’t believe me.”
Lucy waved a hand. “If it’s love, nothing will keep you apart. It takes the power out of fear. And pride. And all those important objections to being together that turn out to be not so important, after all.”
Daisy pondered that a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say.
“Look,” said Lucy. “I’ve got you a lovely surprise in a box under the shady tree behind the cottage. I want to be there when you open it.”
Daisy was excited, yet scared.
“Be at ease, child,” said Lucy. “This is a lovely surprise, and you’ve been too responsible for far too long. It’s time to have fun.”
She sat down beneath the tree and patted the ground beside her. Daisy sat, too, and Lucy handed her the box, which she opened with trembling fingers.
Inside was an exquisite ivory gown made of the most luxurious satin with beautiful little embroidered sleeves and gold beads sprinkled over the hem and bodice. It looked as if it had been sewn for a princess. Daisy had never seen a garment so beautiful in her entire life. She pulled it out and held it up.
It appeared to be just the right size.
“You’re going to wear this to the ball,” Lucy said, “and someone is going to do your hair—I insist—and adorn it with flowers. And then you’re going to wear a beautiful pair of slippers Mr. Glass, the cobbler, is making for you right now.”
“Oh, my.” Daisy could hardly speak. She took a moment to compose herself, then said, “Thank you so much, Lucy. It’s the most wonderful surprise I’ve ever received.”
She folded the gown with care and put it reverently back in the box.
“But I can’t accept.” She bowed her head. “I’m not your goddaughter. Cassandra is.”
Lucy laughed. “You’re both my goddaughters, silly! Didn’t Charlie tell you? He thinks I have only seven. But I have fourteen.”
“Fourteen?” Daisy barely restrained a gasp.
“Yes, indeed.” Lady Pinckney chuckled. “I’m thrilled my little surprise appeals to you. I had it altered a bit, the waist moved up, and a few panels of the skirt removed. It was slightly out of fashion.”
“It was?”
“Oh, yes. This dress belonged to your mother.”
“It did?”
Lucy nodded. “We were very good friends.”
Somehow that idea made no sense to Daisy.
“Let me explain,” said Lucy. “Your father and I were infatuated with each other at one time. But we were far too young and interested in life to want to marry, so you know how it goes … we went our separate ways. Years went by, and I married, but Barney still hadn’t. He had that affair with the actress—you know how that turned out. And then a few months later, he met Catherine, who bowled him over right away. He told me it was a good thing we hadn’t married because what he felt for Catherine was bigger than anything he’d ever felt before. He couldn’t even express how big. I really didn’t mind a bit his saying that because I was desperately in love with Charlie’s Scottish grandfather, and I knew just what Barney meant.”
Daisy inhaled a little breath and blinked, over and over.
Lucy became a big blur.
“Dear? Are you all right?” Lucy hugged her close.
It was several minutes before Daisy could speak. “This is too much,” she eventually whispered against Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m simply happy.”
She closed her eyes and tried to take it all in.
Lucy squeezed her close, and the affection
ate touch helped calm Daisy’s jangled nerves.
A moment later, Lucy sighed. “There’s something very serious I must talk to you about. I’m shocked at how bamboozled we all were by Mona all those years ago when she adopted Cassandra. Charlie’s told me she’s been terribly wicked to you. I think after Barney married her and realized her true colors, he was too embarrassed to tell me he’d been so taken in. She needs to leave this place. Immediately.”
Daisy sat up. “I wish she would. But, Lucy, I can’t let Perdita and Cassandra go with her. Perdita might seem awful, but she’s not rotten to the core the way Mona is. I can’t give up on her. Not yet. And Cassandra’s my half sister. She’s come leaps and bounds from what she used to be. I think she’ll be marrying Mr. Beebs, so she’ll be happily settled.”
“You do whatever makes you happy, dear.”
Daisy bit her lip. “I’ve never had anyone say that to me before.”
“Well, get used to it,” Lucy said briskly. “No more living in Mona’s dark shadow. Now will you pull me up? I’m rather stuck beneath this tree!”
Daisy laughed and did just that.
She felt the opposite of stuck—she felt free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was time for the ceilidh. Charlie had spent the last two days on a wildly extravagant hunt with his best friends and his sisters’ husbands, as well as some excellent friends he’d made in the glen. In his tramps through chilly burns and over rocky terrain, he’d released all his nervousness about his plans to win Daisy back and surrendered to the elements.
A dose of the Highlands was what he’d needed … it felt right in his very bones that he was still here in Scotland and working to improve the state of his property and the climate of his adopted village of Glen Dewey.
His heart filled with pride in his new home when he sang along with his hunting companions the well-known verse by Robert Burns:
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Every hunter knew he mustn’t force, but lure, his target to him. Tonight, at the ceilidh, Charlie told himself, he would open his heart, and he hoped Daisy would accept it.
And then he would make her his.
Now his friends and family were gathering for the great event in the hall at Castle Vandemere, which wasn’t half as vast as the one at the Keep. But Charlie found it much more inviting, perhaps because he’d asked his sisters and his friends’ wives—Poppy, Molly, and Jilly—to decorate the space for him. They’d hung wreaths and stuffed vases with beautiful flowers and made stunning collections of candles that warmed every corner of the room.
But when the party arrived from Rose Cottage, Daisy wasn’t among them.
“Where is she?” he asked Joe and Hester.
His female guests hovered behind him. All of them couldn’t wait to meet Daisy, who they knew was meant to be his bride—if he could convince her of that fact.
“She’s at Mrs. MacLeod’s, getting her hair done,” said Hester, “and och, she looks so beautiful. Wait until ye see her. Her slippers look like they were made for an angel.”
Grandmother smiled. “Mr. Glass says he never sells them to a woman herself. They must be bought for her by someone who loves her very much. He asks the buyer to describe this special woman, and he listens with his heart. From there, he makes her a unique design.”
“I’ve got on a pair of Mr. Glass’s slippers myself,” said Cassandra, and pointed her toes. “I’ve never found out who chose them for me. They appeared on my bed the night of the last ceilidh.”
All the women from London rushed forward to see them.
“They’re magnificent,” said Poppy. “And so perfect for you.” She flashed a brilliant smile at Cassandra. “I’ll tell Nicholas about them right away.”
“I must have a pair of Glass slippers, too,” exclaimed Molly. “I’ll tell Harry. I wonder what they’ll look like?”
Charlie immediately told his sisters he’d let their husbands know that they must pay a visit to Mr. Glass’s cobbler shop, as well.
Then he leaned over to Cassandra. “Daisy chose them for you,” he told her.
Cassandra drew in her chin. “But we hated each other at that time.”
“I know,” said Charlie. “But she said her papa would approve, and that when she described you to Mr. Glass, she looked at you through your father’s eyes as best she could. So in a way, they’re from him.”
Every woman there got tears in their eyes, Cassandra most of all.
Jilly bit her lip. “They’d be all the rage in London. I’m going to get a pair for my dear friend Otis.”
Cassandra tilted her head. “A man?”
Jilly nodded. “But he’s not just any man. He’ll be able to carry them off. You’ll see. You’ll have to come visit us.”
“Thank you very much for the invitation.” Cassandra smiled. “But I’m a Highland lass now. My heart is here, and here I’ll stay.” Charlie saw her look over at Mr. Beebs, who’d turned out to be not only a very responsible overseer but her hero as well.
When Cassandra disappeared into the crowd, Molly spoke first. “I wonder where Miss Montgomery is?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said, and tried not to be nervous.
But it was difficult when he had her ring in his pocket—the one she’d given to Mrs. Gordon to pay for all the villagers’ gowns. He’d bought it back. He wanted to propose to her tonight—
If the moment were right.
He had a long way to go before he’d know.
Another half hour went by. The ceilidh was well under way, and everyone was having a marvelous time.
Or so it seemed. His friends and family seemed on edge, especially Grandmother.
“She’s awfully late,” Grandmother fretted, which was rare for her.
“I know.” Charlie patted her hand. “I can’t help but worry.”
One by one almost everyone from Rose Cottage came up to him and said they wondered what was taking Daisy so long.
“Mrs. MacLeod must have had to start her hair over again,” said Hester.
“Or perhaps her hem fell,” said Cassandra, “and she’s repairing it.”
But then Mayor MacLeod and his wife arrived—without Daisy.
“Where is she?” Charlie asked them.
Mrs. MacLeod gave a little gasp. “Why, I thought she’d have been here by now. She left a good while ago with her mother and Miss Perdita. They happened to come by the hoose while I was fixing her hair. Said they were going late to the ceilidh.”
“Mrs. Montgomery wasn’t even invited to the ceilidh,” said Charlie.
Mrs. MacLeod expelled a worried breath. “That’s what Miss Montgomery told us, but then Mrs. Montgomery took off for Castle Vandemere with Miss Perdita by her side. And Miss Montgomery said she couldn’t let them go alone to wreak havoc among your guests, so she asked me to hurry and pin up the last curl, which I did with all haste. And she went running after them.” She took another breath. “Then old Mrs. Buncombe came over and the mayor had to help her retrieve her stubborn cow from the High Street. By the time we’d finished, they’d disappeared among the rocks and scrubby pines up on the mountain.”
“What?” Charlie felt his voice grow cold. “They left the road?”
Mrs. MacLeod put her hand to her mouth. “I suppose they did. All the locals know the shortcuts. It never occurred to me to worry.”
“They’re on the mountain.” Fear ran its cold finger down Charlie’s spine. Something wasn’t right.
“Get all the men outside,” he told the women surrounding him. “Tell them we need to find Daisy. I’m leaving now.”
And he raced outside. He’d have to do this fast. If Mona attempted any sort of escape from Glen Dewey after wreaking havoc, there was no one in the village to stop her on her way out—except old Mr
s. Buncombe, who was feeble and half blind.
But knowing Mrs. Montgomery, Charlie thought she was so off kilter she might just want revenge—and to hell with escape.
He would check his and Daisy’s special spot first. The Stone Steps. They were on the way up the mountain, and if Daisy were in any sort of trouble, he hoped she’d try to make her way there.
And then he thought of the bog.
No. She was too wary to go near it. Thank God for the Highland summer nights and their light. She’d know that copse of trees, and she’d steer clear.
He hoped.
Once she’d caught up with her stepmother and stepsister, Daisy quickly gave up trying to convince them not to go to the ceilidh. Neither one was listening to her anyway.
“Ouch,” Mona said after a few minutes of bickering with Perdita, and began to hobble.
“We should stick to the road,” Daisy said. “You’re less likely to get injured.”
They’d come to the Stone Steps.
“I’ll sit here for a moment,” said Mona. “And then we’ll be on our way again.” She winced. “I think I twisted my ankle.”
Daisy crouched before her. “Let me see.”
And was suddenly lifted up like a sack of flour and thrown over Perdita’s shoulder so hard, she felt one of her slippers fly off her foot.
“What are you doing?” Daisy cried, upside down. The blood immediately began to pound in her head.
“Ssshhh!” Perdita said. “No yelling.”
“Of course, I’m going to—”
But Mona wrapped a gag around her mouth so fast, Daisy nearly choked. And when the shrew tied it in a tight knot at the back of Daisy’s head, she felt the first stirrings of genuine fear overwhelm her fury.
Mona wanted to hurt her. This wasn’t a prank.
Daisy knew this without question.
Perdita strode forward, her grip tight on Daisy’s legs, and try as Daisy might to beat her with her fists, she could get no traction as she bounced along. Her flailings didn’t make a dent in Perdita’s determination to hold her fast.
And then Mona deftly slid a noosed rope over her hands and pulled it tight, effectively tying her hands behind her back.
If You Give A Girl A Viscount Page 24