Lord Lumley was off limits. A creature of pleasure. An emissary merely following his grandmother’s orders. A man with no interest in the residents of Castle Vandemere beyond a superficial interest, which he’d maintain until he could leave the glen forever.

“I’ll go, too,” Daisy said.

“Why?” asked Cassandra. “Have you forgotten what I told you? You don’t need to be around the viscount unless it’s strictly necessary.”

She angled her head at Hester and mouthed the words poor house.

Daisy wished she could narrow her eyes at her stepsister. But she dared not.

“He’s to carry your trunks,” she said instead. “If you want them to arrive at the Keep when you do, he’ll need to know where the wheelbarrow and ropes are kept. I was about to show him, but if you’d rather—”

“I wouldn’t dare set a foot in that byre,” Cassandra said in a surly manner.

“Nor I,” Perdita added. “Although I like a nice wheelbarrow ride.”

“Shut up, Perdita,” said her mother. “We’ve no time for wheelbarrow rides.”

“I’d like a ride of another sort,” Cassandra said under her breath, and flung a challenging look at Daisy. “I intend to get one, too.”

Daisy knew exactly what she meant.

Wicked girl.

But if Cassandra thought she’d bed a certain viscount, she’d thought wrong.

Once outside, Daisy let go of her aggravation. The air was as peppery fresh as it had ever been on a sunny summer morning. It was a perfect day for visitors to arrive and experience the Highlands.

And she needn’t worry about Charlie. He wasn’t stupid. Cassandra’s charms were only skin-deep.

Even so, a memory of the Stone Steps rushed back. He’s my viscount, Daisy thought. And I won’t give him up to any other woman.

Which was silly of her, as she’d already told him there could be nothing between them.

She cast a glance back at the kitchen window, where Hester stood watching them. The older woman pulled on her ear—which signified, Damned Furies!—then touched her fingertips to her lips and gently blew a kiss toward Daisy.

Daisy smiled back, but inside, she was pensive. Hester and Joe meant everything to her. She couldn’t veer off course. Saving Castle Vandemere for them was paramount.

Worrying a bit about Jinx, too, she scanned the grounds for a sign of the cat, and even called for her, but she didn’t come. Cassandra and Perdita made no effort to help, and Daisy put aside her own vague worries. It was much too soon to be concerned, she told herself. Surely Jinx was fine and was merely ignoring her call.

So when she caught sight of Joe and the viscount, both of them looking down the mountainside, she allowed herself to feel a surge of happiness as she strolled toward them.

But Cassandra stepped right in her path, forcing her aside.

“Hello, Lord Lumley.” Cassandra batted her eyes at him.

“Your coat is exquisite,” said Perdita in a plodding manner.

She’d obviously practiced her words.

“Good morning, ladies,” the viscount answered in a gallant fashion but didn’t bother to glance at Daisy.

Well, what could she expect after their earlier conversation?

Cassandra sent a gloating look her way.

It took everything Daisy had in her to ignore it and appear completely at ease.

“The visitors have arrived even sooner than we expected,” Charlie said. “We saw them pull into the village. They’ll need to rest the horses before they dare attempt the slope.”

“Five coaches and six outriders,” Joe announced.

“How exciting,” Daisy said.

“I can’t wait,” Cassandra said.

“Nor I,” said Perdita.

For a moment, they were all united in their excitement, their differences forgotten.

But that bad feeling dogged Daisy. She was sure it had everything to do with the fact that she and Charlie were not ever to be together again. But something in her prompted her to say: “Have you seen Jinx?”

“She lives in the kitchen,” said Joe right away.

“I know,” Daisy said, “but she’s not there. She hasn’t even come in for her dish of goat’s milk.”

Perdita snorted.

Daisy whirled around and looked at her. Perdita scratched her nose in an offhand manner, but her eyes glinted with glee when she exchanged glances with her sister.

Perdita had done something to Jinx. Daisy just knew it. And Cassandra had helped.

The witches.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Charlie was shocked to see the fierce look on Daisy’s face, and even more surprised to see her stand toe to toe with her large stepsister. “Where is she? What have you done with Jinx?”

Miss Perdita whimpered. “I don’t know. I haven’t done anything to her.”

“You’re lying.” Daisy turned to Miss Cassandra. “If you were cruel to that cat in any way—”

“I don’t like your threatening tone.” Miss Cassandra managed to look angelic. “You have a tendency to be impulsive—”

“Oh, bother with that.” Daisy put her hands on her hips. “Where’s Jinx?”

“If either of you knows, out with it,” Charlie urged the two girls. He was disgusted with their obvious guilt.

Miss Cassandra drew herself up and looked at him with wide eyes. “Of course we didn’t harm Hester’s cat.” She put her chin in the air. “I’m horribly hurt, Daisy, that you think we’re capable of cruelty to an innocent animal. You’re embarrassing the entire family in front of the viscount. You’re volatile, careless—”

“Careless?” Daisy’s face flared red. “How have I been careless? I care enough to look for her—”

Miss Cassandra put on a patient look and swiveled to face him. “You do know about the tragedy, don’t you?”

Charlie felt vastly uncomfortable. Something was terribly wrong here. “No,” he said, and wished he could walk away. This was a family squabble. Private business. He didn’t belong.

But Daisy was obviously outnumbered and outflanked, and damned if he was going to let her stepsisters hide the truth about the cat. He already had a soft spot for Hester, and he wanted answers, too.

“Now is not the time,” Daisy said to Miss Cassandra.

Charlie couldn’t agree more.

The charged atmosphere sent Joe limping away.

Miss Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest and locked gazes with Charlie. “She burned down the bungalow.” She wore a distasteful smirk.

The words made no sense at first. It took several seconds for Charlie to understand.

Daisy looked at him with steel in her expression. “It was an accident.”

“Yes,” said Miss Cassandra, “but you were careless.” She looked at Charlie. “Sadly, her father—my stepfather—was so traumatized by the incident, he died a week later.”

Miss Perdita began to tremble.

A sheen of tears appeared in Daisy’s eyes. “You are cruel, Cassandra. How could you bring that up now?”

“I wasn’t trying to be cruel!” Miss Perdita roared, and put her hands over her ears.

“Enough.” Miss Cassandra laid a hand on Perdita’s shoulder. “Jinx is fine.”

“Then where is she?” Daisy demanded to know, but her voice was thin with worry.

“Be quick and tell us,” Charlie interjected.

Miss Perdita merely stared goggle eyed at all of them, her hands still over her ears.

“She’s locked in Perdita’s wardrobe,” Miss Cassandra said quietly.

“We put her in,” Miss Perdita boomed. “And I turned the key.”

“How could you?” Daisy’s voice trembled with fury. “The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Miss Cassandra lifted her chin. “Perdita did it and told me afterward. I was on my way to getting the cat out when we were diverted by news of the visitors.”

“No you weren’t,” Daisy said. “You strolled into the kitchen, and—”

She felt a restraining hand on her arm. It was Charlie, and she couldn’t help but take comfort from it.

“Just go let the poor animal out of the wardrobe,” he said quietly to Miss Cassandra, who blinked at him once and turned on her heel.

“Follow me, Perdita,” she said in injured tones. “As usual, I am being blamed for your folly.”

Miss Perdita finally dropped her hands from her ears and lumbered after her sister, shaking her head all the while. “I’m going to tell Mother, and Daisy will get in trouble. Not me. How dare she say I did anything wrong?”

Charlie watched Joe limp after them. He’d see to it that Jinx’s release was complete.

When they all disappeared into the house, Charlie looked at Daisy. “What’s going on?”

She had a hollow look about her. “You heard them.”

“Yes,” he said. There was a moment’s silence. “I’m sorry about your father.”

He could see her jaw working.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he assured her.

She looked at the ground but cocked her head to her right. “Do you see that empty spot, over by the oak and rowan trees? It looks as if something was once there?”

He nodded.

She wouldn’t look at the site herself. “That was where my mother’s bungalow stood. Papa built it for her. She painted there. It was the perfect spot, she said. She could see everything—all the way down the glen to the village, and up to the top of Ben Fennon.”

“I see.” He waited for her to go on.

“I used to go there, too, to sew at Mama’s feet. And after she died, I continued. It was my haven. I did almost all my sewing there. Papa would come in, too, and sit and write occasionally. The place reminded us both of my mother.” She took a breath. “One night, I was sewing late, and I must have left a candle burning—”