“But I can’t be a Highlander forever.” Perdita’s expression drooped. “For one, I need to be able to say more than aye, nay, and slainte.”

“True.”

“And”—Perdita paused, as if it were hard for her to say—“as the Highlander, I can’t win the man I want.”

“Oh, dear,” Daisy said. “Do you still admire Mr. King?”

Perdita shook her head. “I thought I did, but he laughs like a donkey. And he has a tendre for Cassandra.”

“Right.” Daisy tried not to chuckle at the description of Mr. King.

“So on the hunting trip,” Perdita went on, “I did my best to meet the other men. And I found one I like even more than Mr. King.”

“Who?”

“The Spanish marquis. He asked me to call him Pablo, but of course, I never did. I said nothing beyond aye, nay, and slainte.”

“How difficult that must have been.”

“It was. He talked long into the night about life while I listened. We looked at the stars, and he taught me the different constellations. He also told me stories about his boyhood at his castle in Spain. I fell in love with him more each night.”

“You did?” Daisy felt a glimmer of hope for her sister. She had a heart. That was good to know.

Perdita nodded. “But it’s hopeless. He admires me because I’m a fierce Highlander. He asked if I would care to go shooting with him on his estate in Spain. He told me I would enjoy his cigars and brandy, and that the women in Spain were beautiful.” She gulped. “He can’t like me … that way, as a woman. We speak only man to man.”

Daisy laid a hand on her arm. “Oh, but he does like you as a woman! I saw him looking down your gown the very first night. And he was most attentive to your needs. He pulled out your chair—”

“He did pass me the salt and pepper without my having to ask.”

“Yes, and don’t you remember he said, ‘How do you do?’ when you first sat down?”

“I forgot about that.”

“He saw you as a woman, I promise you. And he liked what he saw.”

Perdita perked up. “Are you sure?”

Daisy nodded. “Most definitely. He even asked after you several times when you were purportedly ill, which leaves me no doubt he was interested in pursuing your acquaintance.” She sighed. “I wish you could tell him who you really are. I’m so … sorry. If he finds out we were fooling him—”

“He’ll be angry,” said Perdita. “All the visitors will be. They’ll feel we were making fun of them, and then they won’t pay us any money. Which means we’ll be back where we started.”

“Perdita—” Daisy felt a terrible jolt of guilt. “I want you to be happy. And there must be a way out of this dilemma with the marquis.” She bit her lip and thought for a moment, then gave a little chuckle. “Perhaps the son of a son of a Highland chief can’t come tonight. It’s his turn to be ill. Surely no visitor will penalize us for not having him at the ceilidh. You’ve been so good all week long. It’s time for Perdita to reemerge from the sick room, don’t you think?”

Perdita smiled. “I like that.” She took off her cap, and her frizzy brown hair fell about her shoulders. “But won’t they recognize me?”

“I very much doubt they will,” Daisy said. “First of all, they have no reason to suspect that you’d ever have call to pose as a man. But more importantly, you look like a woman in love.”

“I do?”

“Yes. You’re softer. In every way. Even your voice.”

Perdita blinked rapidly. “I like being soft,” she whispered, which was still a bit loud. But she was doing better than she’d ever done before.

“I think you should stay seated in an inconspicuous spot,” Daisy said, “away from blazing candles, somewhat in the shadows. That way we’ll have no fear of your being unveiled as our Highlander. And you’ll also appear quite mysterious.”

“I’ve heard that men love mystery,” Perdita said. “They told me themselves, on the hunt. I heard some shocking things about how they feel about women.”

“I’m sure you did.” Daisy patted her hand. “Speak only to the marquis, whom I shall send your way, I promise. When he asks you to dance—and he will—tell him you will dance only outside, under the moonlight.”

“But it’s summer in the Highlands. It will be day all night long.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Daisy bit her thumb. “Never mind about the moonlight. But dance close to him.”

“I see.”

“And then when you’re dancing … kiss him.” Daisy thought about how much she loved kissing Charlie.

“Kiss him?”

“Yes. Lean forward and kiss him. Be bold as brass. Sometimes being bold as brass can be a good thing. Especially when time is running out.”

Perdita laughed. “You’re right. The men on the hunt said they like modesty, but they also like women who aren’t afraid to enjoy the realm of physical pleasures. They want both, they said.”

“Yes. It’s confusing, isn’t it? A woman must be all things to them. But what do you have to lose? The marquis leaves tomorrow. After you kiss him, perhaps something else will happen. Perhaps a true attachment will form. And that’s what you want. Sometimes to get what you want, what you know is right for you, you have to risk everything.”

Tears formed in Perdita’s eyes. “This is my only chance.”

“Perdita?”

“Yes?”

Daisy smiled at her. “I hope all your dreams come true.”

“Really, Daisy? You don’t hate me?”

Daisy shook her head. “Absolutely not. I used to, I must admit. Until quite recently. But I happen to think your mother was a very bad influence on us all. I haven’t tried as hard with you as I should have.” She hugged her.

Perdita hugged her back so hard, it hurt, but Daisy managed to refrain from gasping.

“Mother is a bitch, isn’t she?” Perdita said.

It was most definitely a rhetorical question.

They both laughed together.

“Somehow I don’t think she’ll ever change,” Daisy said. For the first time ever in their whole lives, a beat of cozy sister silence passed. “Now where is Cassandra? We need her help getting you ready. And then we must see that she’s ready.”

“She found a lovely new gown and slippers on her bed,” said Perdita.

“Interesting,” said Daisy, and left the room with a secret smile.


It seemed that all the women who were now gathered in the ballroom for the ceilidh—except for Mona, who was already drunk and sitting in a corner pouting—practically glowed with good cheer, their beautiful gowns giving them the confidence to act like young girls again. The men jostled each other, eyed their newly beautified mates, and looked more lighthearted than Daisy had seen them since her father had died.

As soon as the musicians finished setting up their corner, she knew the ceilidh would be a roaring success. The visitors would leave with many fine memories of their Highland experience, and the villagers would be more united than ever.

Anticipation made the room hum with excitement. Peering around heads and shoulders, Daisy looked for Cassandra and Mr. King in the crowd. Although Charlie had warned her that rich, powerful men typically entertained themselves with many women, flirting shamelessly with them and pretending devotion to their every need and want, Daisy didn’t want to believe it of Mr. King. She hoped he’d come to care for Cassandra.

The pipes began their droning. The fiddlers practiced a few notes.

The crowd grew louder than ever.

In a moment, Charlie would call the room to order and open the ceilidh with her.

But first, where was Cassandra? Daisy saw Hester in the corner, speaking with Perdita, who sat docilely in her chair, far away from the action. Next, Daisy swung around and saw the Spanish marquis, at the other end of the ballroom. There was Mr. Woo and every single other visiting gentleman except Mr. King. Joe was ensconced in a group of men obviously talking shinty, as one of them swung an invisible shinty stick.

All the village women were there, including a new mother who looked dazzling in her crisp new gown from Mrs. Gordon’s shop.

The footmen and maids were scattered about the room, already serving punch and various savories and sweets. Charlie was speaking to the head musician.

Daisy stood on a chair. She was starting to get a tad worried.

Cassandra was missing. And where was Mr. King?

They weren’t in the ballroom. She hastened out into the hall. But there was no butler. The man she’d assigned that position had joined the festivities, and why not? He wasn’t a real butler, after all.

She went back through the ballroom and through a door leading to the back gardens. No one was there, either, save a young lad and lass from the village. Daisy caught them kissing, and they both drew apart.

The girl gasped. “I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery.”

“It’s quite all right,” she said. “I mean … you should probably come inside, both of you.” She was beginning to panic. “You haven’t seen Miss Cassandra, have you?”

The girl shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“I saw her with Mr. King,” said the boy. “Just a few minutes ago.”

“Where?” Daisy could hardly breathe. She had no idea why she was panicking. Mr. King was foolish and prideful, but he was also clever and accomplished. She wasn’t bad to have hoped for a match between him and Cassandra.

Yet at this moment, she felt as if she’d made a huge mistake—and possibly thrown her half sister to a lion.

“He was walking her to the stables,” the boy said. “I caught a glimpse of them as I was coming round the east wing of the castle.”