Charlie grinned. “Knowing Cassandra, she means she’s interested in becoming his wife.”

“I do believe you’re right. So there’s room for hope there. I wonder why she gave up on pursuing you? Ever since our mud escapade, she’s avoided you like the plague.”

Charlie brushed some hair off Daisy’s forehead. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps she’s being a good sister.”

“Hah,” said Daisy. “I’m sure she has a nefarious motive. Although a tiny part of me is rather curious about this new Cassandra. She’s as rude as ever and takes great pleasure in laughing at other people’s shortcomings, but she hasn’t engaged me in direct insults in days. I almost miss them.”

“I want you to know,” Charlie said in all seriousness, “that even before this conversation, I’d planned to ask Mr. King exactly what his intentions are—tonight before the ball in the privacy of the library. Cassandra is not my sister, but now we know she’s yours. And as you’re my grandmother’s goddaughter”—and the woman I love, he thought—“I feel a certain responsibility toward her.”

Daisy blushed so red, her ears turned pink.

“What is it?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she choked out.

“Are you sure?”

She wore a pensive expression. “About being your grandmother’s goddaughter—”

“Yes?”

She stared at him a moment, then shrugged. “I’m glad I am, that’s all.”

“I’m glad, too,” he said. “I never would have met you, otherwise.”

She kissed his cheek. “I appreciate your concern about Cassandra, but please don’t corner Mr. King. He’s a sophisticated man. He’ll show his colors tonight without needing any push. Just you wait and see.”

Charlie hesitated. He couldn’t forget what the Virginian had said about Daisy on the first day they’d met. Yet Mr. King’s remark—when Charlie thought about it—was typical of a man of the world speaking to another man of the world. Should he really have held it against his visitor all this while?

Yes, said a voice in his head. Don’t make excuses for him. It was in poor taste. And it says something about who he is and the rules by which he plays.

“I think waiting for him to make the first move with your stepsister is a mistake,” Charlie said.

“Why?”

“He’s toying with her. He can go home and say he had an amusing time in the Highlands with a local English girl. I know his kind. Rich, powerful … bored.”

“Oh, Charlie.” Daisy sighed, the bedsheet wrapped around her lovely form. “You mean well, but you’re wrong. He’s devoted to her.”

“I know it seems that way. But you don’t know how men in his position can be.”

“Every sign he’s shown has been so clear—he’s in love!”

“Love?”

Daisy nodded. “Of course.”

Charlie sighed. “It could be mere infatuation. What do you know of love?”

She stared at him, at a loss for words.

“That’s too hard a question to ask me,” she said eventually. “I’m too busy to think about love—I have to think about securing a castle.” A small squiggle of annoyance furrowed her brow. “What do you know about love?”

He didn’t know what it was—yet—but he knew he loved her. He loved her so much, he couldn’t live without her.

So what should he say?

“Nothing, I suppose,” he said, feeling as if that were the truth. For now.

“We must take a gamble, then,” said Daisy. “I’ve already begun a secret project to make Cassandra look extra beautiful tonight.”

“Oh?”

“The women of the village have been making her a special gown in secret. And Mr. Glass has donated a gorgeous pair of slippers for her—they’re exquisite!” She clapped her hands in delight. “Of course, I won’t tell her I thought of it. Let her think someone else did. It would be most awkward if she knew—”

“I’m afraid you’re setting her up for failure.”

Daisy sucked in a breath. “That’s a terrible accusation to make.”

“I know you mean well.” He took her by the shoulders. “But trust me on this. I am the type of man I’m warning you about. When I’m not here and not in my parents’ bad books, I’m a rich man about town with not a care in the world. And I’d do exactly what I think Mr. King will—leave her without remorse.”

Daisy’s eyes widened at that. But he’d had to tell her the truth.

He also had to remind himself of the truth.

I am that man.

Would Daisy be that woman, the one he’d leave behind so he could keep his freedom?

Shaken by questions he wasn’t sure how to answer, he rolled out of bed and got dressed. Daisy was silent, watching him with large eyes.

“I think I’d best go now,” he said. He tried to smile at her. But it was difficult somehow.

She nodded. “All right,” she said in a sad whisper.

Charlie hesitated. “There’s something you should know,” he said. “I haven’t told you because it’s a moot point, really. But it may help you understand.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “My friends in London put me up to a bet. They dared me to spend nothing until I return to London. It shouldn’t be difficult, as I was cut off from my family accounts, right?”

She nodded, her gaze wary.

“But I’m a wealthy man on my own, and I had enough money stashed that I could have gotten here in comfort. Perhaps I could have even scraped together your four hundred pounds.”

A small pucker formed on Daisy’s brow.

“But I took their challenge. I got to Scotland on the back of wagons—”

“One of them must have carried turnips,” she murmured, a small grin curving her lips despite the bleak tone of their conversation.

“Right.” He gave a short laugh, remembering. “My point is, I took the bet. And if I lose, I go on the Marriage Mart, which to me … is anathema.”

The remnants of the grin on Daisy’s mouth disappeared.

“The bet was meant to prove to myself that I’m more than the balance in my accounts,” Charlie struggled on, hating how with every word he spoke, the atmosphere in the room became more depressing. “But to the world, the wager must appear shallow. Especially because of the stakes.”

“If you win this bet, you can dine out on it for months,” Daisy said slowly. “Telling stories of your little adventure. And all your wealthy friends will tell you how much they admire you for enduring the hardships. And you’ll say, ‘Wouldn’t you have? Considering what I would have lost—my freedom.’ And then you’ll pull out your purse of gold coins and buy everyone a round of drinks.”

“Yes,” he said. “It will likely go something like that.”

They stared at each other a few moments.

“I’m glad you told me.” Her brow was smooth, and her eyes revealed nothing.

For the first time, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

But it couldn’t be good.

When she rolled over and faced the wall without kissing him farewell, he left the room without another word.


Looking out her window at the Keep, Daisy could see people streaming up from Glen Dewey, everyone in their finery. She wore one of Perdita’s muslin gowns, cut down, along with the thistle pin Hester had given her. She felt a twinge of remorse that she hadn’t spent more time on her appearance, but she hadn’t had time.

Besides, she’d felt rather numb all day. Her talk with Charlie had left her feeling terribly blue and unsettled.

She didn’t like what she’d heard, that Charlie was capable of attaching himself to people and then leaving. And the bet he was embroiled in was proof that he was a man who lived for adventure—and who didn’t want to marry.

He’d never pretended to be anything else, even in their most intimate moments, when their eyes would lock and something magical would thrum in the air between them.

So why had she felt on the verge of tears since the morning?

When Perdita came unexpectedly to her bedchamber dressed as the Highlander, her gait was slower than usual, and she twisted her tartan sash in worried fashion.

“Is everything all right?” Daisy asked her, glad to get away from her own glum thoughts.

“No.” Perdita sank onto the bed, a picture of misery. “I need to tell you something. It’s very important.”

Daisy sat next to her. “What is it?” She had no idea—it could be anything.

Perdita heaved a huge sigh. “I can’t be the … me I want to be.”

Daisy was silent a moment, taken aback by the raw emotion in her stepsister’s voice. “What do you mean?”

Perdita shook her head. “It’s complicated. I’ve always said you’re the plain one, but we both know I am. You just don’t try very hard. If you did, you’d be beautiful.” She looked at Daisy with genuine frustration and concern. “You should try. It’s not right to hide. I know Mother is the one making you so afraid to be the young lady you were meant to be.”

Daisy was touched at the sisterly advice. “You’re very kind to care. I—I didn’t realize I was hiding, but you’re probably right. Perhaps I should try harder. And you’re not plain.”

“Oh, yes I am. I’m more than plain. I’m ugly.”

“Perdita—”

Her stepsister held up her hand. “It’s true. But that’s all right. Because I’ve found a way to like who I am.”

“Tell me.”

Perdita chuckled. “I love playing the son of a son of a Highland chief. No one makes fun of my loud voice and my big shoulders.” Her face lit up. “You should have seen me on the hunt. I was good, one of the best hunters there. Men were coming up to me and complimenting me on my skill.”

“That’s wonderful!” Daisy marveled at how attractive Perdita was when she was enthused. She didn’t at all resemble the dour girl Daisy had always known.