Kieran Kramer - If You Give A Girl A Viscount

“Of course he will,” said Miss Cassandra, adjusting a long curl over her shoulder. “I shall see to it that he does. Not that I will live here much longer,” she said meaningfully. “I plan to marry well and leave Mr. Beebs and the Keep behind me. London calls … London is where I belong.”

“You belong in a peer’s bed,” said her mother.

A peer’s bed?

Charlie set down his wine. “Naked ambition can take many forms,” he murmured, only for Miss Montgomery’s ears.

She appeared to choke but recovered after a sip of water.

Perdita sat squinting at nothing, apparently lost in her attempts to crunch through a fish bone.

Charlie took a swig of his own wine. “It would be ideal, of course, if Mr. Beebs could get the permission of the property holder. His backing would lend a greater sense of propriety and importance to the venture. Perhaps he could encourage his wealthy friends to participate.”

Mrs. Montgomery drained her glass of wine. “Very well, Viscount. You may proceed, but whatever money you accrue above the feu duty comes straight back to me. I intend to take my girls on a tour of Italy, unless Cassandra is married off by then. If so, Perdita will accompany me.” She lowered her chin at her stepdaughter. “You don’t need to go. I’ve bestowed an honor upon you that will occupy you while we’re away.”

“You have?” There was a small quiver in Miss Montgomery’s voice.

Charlie braced himself.

“Yes.” Mrs. Montgomery frowned. “I’ve decided you’re to be my companion for life.”

“That’s impossible,” Charlie said. “She’s to marry me.”

Of course she wasn’t to marry him, but he’d had to say something.

“If you ever come up to scratch,” Mrs. Montgomery told him rudely. “She might very well change her mind if you can’t make something of yourself. Or you might discover you don’t want her anymore. There are many more fish in the sea, Viscount, more elegant, beautiful fish who’ll look so good on your arm, the business deals will come fast and furious.”

Miss Cassandra did an excellent impression of a fish by sucking in her cheeks and pursing her lips at him.

“I don’t want another fish,” he said. “And as for my prospects, they’re very good.”

Miss Montgomery sat blinking furiously.

Mona turned to her again. “Companions stay home to answer correspondence and see to the general upkeep of the estate. It’s quite a responsibility.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Miss Montgomery stammered.

“Left you speechless, have I?” Mrs. Montgomery cocked an eyebrow, her mouth pursed in a smirk.

“Er, yes,” Miss Montgomery replied, “but Stepmother, I’ll need the profits from the Highland venture to see to the estate’s upkeep. Without it, how can I fix the drawbridge or increase the size of our sheep herd? Or get a new suit of armor? Not to mention repair the crumbling chimneys—”

“Those things can wait,” Mrs. Montgomery said, “for the next Highland venture.”

“I care only about the first one,” Miss Cassandra said, her nose in the air. “Viscount, I’m going with you to the village.”

“Sheer genius.” Mrs. Montgomery looked at Charlie with small, beady eyes. “Cassandra will help recruit the men there to your cause.”

The trout suddenly tasted dry as dust. Charlie twisted his neck in the cravat he’d borrowed.

In a generous act he’d never forget, he watched Joe hasten to the sideboard and pour him a finger of the finest whisky in the land, made by his own hands.

Charlie slugged it down. “Thank you,” he told the servant.

Joe bowed, grinned, and limped his way out of the room.

“You’re welcome,” Cassandra answered Charlie, even though he hadn’t been thanking her.

Mrs. Montgomery smiled at her ebony-haired daughter. “You’ll be queen of the hunt and the sportsmen’s lucky talisman at the games.”

“In that case, I’ll need special sashes.” Cassandra turned to Miss Montgomery. “That’s your job,” she said flatly. “I prefer white satin with gold and scarlet embellishments.”

Miss Montgomery bit her lip. “But I’m much too busy—”

“You’ll do it, and you’ll do it well,” the stepmother informed her stepdaughter in bright tones. But the expression in her gaze was anything but friendly. “Otherwise, I shall ask Hester.”

The servant had gone back to the kitchen to put on the kettle, she’d said, and to pull some more shortbread out of the oven. One thing Charlie had come to love already about Castle Vandemere … there was always shortbread.

And fine whisky.

Miss Montgomery’s brow furrowed. “The sewing will strain Hester’s eyes, and then she’ll feel miserable if she doesn’t do it well.” She looked down at her plate. “Of course I’ll make the sashes.”

Charlie didn’t like seeing her capitulate so readily to her bullying stepmother. But he knew now that Miss Montgomery had her two servants’ welfare uppermost on her mind, so he understood.

“When do we leave, Viscount?” Miss Cassandra asked him.

Charlie was annoyed. He liked having a job. He’d never had one before (investing money didn’t seem to count). So it was imperative that he do this job right, especially because Grandmother would be asking.

He didn’t need the whiny beauty tagging along to Glen Dewey.

“Soon,” he told Miss Cassandra, “but you needn’t bother coming.”

“I insist.” She licked her lips after swallowing her wine and looked at him with wide eyes.

“And I’m going with you.” Mrs. Montgomery pointed her fork at Miss Montgomery. “Those women of Glen Dewey need to hear what’s what.”

Miss Montgomery kept her expression neutral, but Charlie could tell she was most concerned. She’d told him that it would take a great deal of finesse to bring the village women together and gain their cooperation. It was apparent that Mrs. Montgomery didn’t have an ounce of finesse in her body.

“You really don’t need to—” Miss Montgomery began.

“I’m coming,” her stepmother said.

Perdita stopping chewing long enough to say, “If there’s to be a Highland experience at the Keep, I want to be there.”

“But you really should stay here,” Miss Montgomery told her. “This will be a gathering of sportsmen. And perhaps bird-watchers. You wouldn’t enjoy yourself.”

“No,” said Perdita, scarfing down a glass of wine. “There. There is where I’ll be.”

“We’re going to the Keep, and that’s that,” her mother said.

The woman was full of vague threats, Charlie noted.

What’s what. That’s that.

What next?

Miss Montgomery stood. “I’m off to the village.” Apparently, she’d decided a change in subject was best. “I plan on walking there now.”

“And I’m accompanying her.” Charlie also stood and turned to Miss Cassandra. “Miss Montgomery is much too busy to make sashes. They’re completely unnecessary.”

Miss Cassandra sucked in a breath.

“Nor will we need a queen of the hunt or a female posing as a lucky talisman at the games,” Charlie told her mother.

Mrs. Montgomery scowled and opened her mouth, no doubt to berate him, but Charlie put up a hand.

“What we’ll need,” he said firmly, “are beautiful ladies to impress our guests, ladies who don’t appear fatigued in the least. I suggest you lounge about today, playing cards, reading, eating bonbons. Miss Montgomery can pack your trunks when she returns from her thankless errand to Glen Dewey.”

He leaned forward. Stepmother and daughters bent toward him, almost as if they were under a spell.

“You don’t want to have to mingle with the villagers,” he whispered to the spoiled trio. “Leave that sort of drudgery to the workhorses.”

He cast a discreet glance at Miss Montgomery, then turned back to the rest of the company and winked.

“You’re a man after my own heart, Viscount.” Mrs. Montgomery chortled and pushed her chair back. “I’m off to take a nap. Cassandra and Perdita, eat the remaining chocolates from the basket and be sure to lounge about as much as possible. You mustn’t appear fatigued tomorrow.”

And she left.

Cassandra and Perdita jumped up, anxious to be indolent.

“I get the chair by the front window,” Perdita called, and practically raced her sister out of the room.

Only Charlie and Miss Montgomery were left.

He ignored the odd glimmer in her eyes. “We’ll repair to the Keep tomorrow morning. If all goes as planned, we’ll have guests in place there by tomorrow afternoon.”

She didn’t say a word, only sent him a basilisk stare.

“I had to do it,” he said. “At least they won’t be coming with us now. You’ve got to admit it was genius.”

“Genius? I’ll be up all night packing their trunks. Enduring their tantrums.”

God, yes. She would be, wouldn’t she? “But you’d be doing that anyway,” he dared to say. “Correct?”

She didn’t say a word.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised her. “I’ll do anything. Anything you ask.”

“Anything?” Her gaze was speculative.

“Yes. I’m supposed to, anyway. Godmother’s orders.”

“Huh.” She kept observing him.

He couldn’t help it. He put on his best peer-of-the realm expression: intimidating, cold. In control. He always did that when he was in trouble.

But she wasn’t cowed in the least. Instead, the corner of her mouth turned up. “I’m going to hold you to that promise, Lord Lumley,” she finally said.

And swept out of the room.

Glen Dewey should be charming, Charlie thought that afternoon. It had all the ingredients to make it so: a quaint, colorful high street; chapped, smiling faces at every door, each person ready to greet you and invite you to linger; smells that would make a full man hungry again—roasting lamb, baking bread, simmering pudding.