Kieran Kramer - If You Give A Girl A Viscount

Charlie’s chest tightened. This was the real Daisy. Desperate. Willing to do anything—she’d said so herself—to get her home back.

What did he think of her now?

He sympathized with her plight, yes, but he also felt the old wariness creep back in, the suspicion that she was like all the other women who’d dared to get close to him—after money. Property.

Things.

He crouched next to her. “You’ll be all right,” he said quietly, and looked up at Mr. Beebs. “You won’t kick them out of Castle Vandemere, will you?”

Mr. Beebs’s expression was grim. “I’ve no choice. The laird doesn’t appear to take the slightest interest in the properties. His men of business handle all legal and financial matters pertaining to the estate. They’re sticklers for doing everything by the rule book.”

“Can’t you contact him?” Charlie asked.

“His people are hefty gatekeepers,” said Mr. Beebs. “And in fact, I had no idea who he was until I met my contact in Edinburgh this past week. According to him, he’s extremely wealthy and has better things to do, I suppose, than worry about a couple of castles rich in heritage here in the most magnificent part of the country.” His tone was wry. “To tell you the truth, by allowing you here, I’ve been taking shameless advantage of his negligence.”

“Who is he?” Charlie asked.

Daisy looked up. “Yes, who?”

Mr. Beebs swallowed hard and cocked his head to the side. “It’s you, Lord Lumley.”

“You don’t mean that,” Daisy said to Mr. Beebs. She looked back at Charlie.

His face was white as a sheet.

Mr. Beebs nodded his head somberly. “After I found out the news in Edinburgh, I came back as soon as I could to apologize for allowing the hunt party here without your express permission—as property holder—to host such an event.”

Charlie lifted up from his haunches and stood staring at the fortress that was the Keep. And then at the stables. And finally, at the turrets of Castle Vandemere in the distance. And ran both his hands down his face.

“Oh, God,” he said in a ragged whisper.

Daisy simply couldn’t speak. She was so shocked, she felt nothing.

Charlie, in legal possession of both the Keep and Castle Vandemere!

She couldn’t believe it.

It was the irony of all ironies. An irony big enough to shake her out of that dream world she’d been living in with him the past ten days.

She turned to him, her heart in her throat. “You didn’t even know these properties fall under your protection?”

His eyes were dark, hooded.

“Well?”

He shook his head.

She found she was clenching her hands stiffly at her sides. “That’s outrageous. Simply … awful.”

His facial expression became glacial. “It never occurred to me that this could be my Scottish property. Why should it have? I’ll admit it’s shocking to find out this way, but truth be told, I’m not surprised. I accrue many estates.”

“How could you neglect a property such as this?” Daisy cried. “What have you been doing the last five years?”

“Living my life the way I want to.” Charlie forced himself to sound calm, although he felt anything but. “I’ve also stayed busy making a great deal of money, so I won’t apologize to anyone for the fact that I’ve neglected to visit.”

Daisy’s chest heaved. “You sound so … spoiled.”

He felt wounded to the core by her assessment, considering how much hardship he’d faced getting to Scotland in one piece—and after all the efforts he’d made to help her.

“Perhaps I am,” he said. “But I’ve never brokered an inappropriate business deal. You’d already made a bad move encouraging a match between Cassandra and Mr. King, but how swiftly you volunteered to put in a good word with her for Mr. Beebs so you could remain at Vandemere. It goes against all principle. And it shrieks of opportunistic behavior.”

He’d thought he’d loved her. But maybe that had been infatuation. Because now when he looked at her, all he felt was betrayal.

When would he ever learn?

“You talk of principle and opportunism?” Daisy’s lips were white. “You may follow the proper rules of business, but you’ve neglected much higher principles. Castle Vandemere—and the Keep—have been wallowing in stagnation ever since you’ve taken possession! To collect properties without a care as to what they mean—to the local community, to the history books, to the people who’ve polished and swept and repaired those places because they love them—is a dastardly crime. And to think that all those times I was cursing the owner of the Keep for neglecting to appreciate it, I should have been cursing you.”

Her words flayed him, but she would never know it.

“I rue the day I volunteered to be at your beck and call, Miss Montgomery,” he told her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an enormous castle to inspect. And a smaller, crumbling one, as well.”

He looked at Mr. Beebs. “Meet me in the library with any documents you have verifying my claim to the estate and the accounting books. I want to know exactly how much I pay you and what sort of drain on my income the property has been—it’s obviously not generating a farthing.”

Daisy stomped her foot. “You find out you’re master of this glorious estate, and the first thing you want to do is complain about how little money it produces for you?”

Charlie ignored her. “And Beebs, after our meeting, just”—he waved a hand in the air—“just pack your bags.”

Mr. Beebs froze. “Am I fired, my lord? I did allow strangers to stay here, didn’t I? I can see how you might have a problem with trusting me to be your overseer.”

“Right,” said Charlie gruffly. “I’ll give you severance and a reference. But it’s best that you go.”

Mr. Beebs made his way toward the castle, and although his back was straight, he bowed his white head when a bird flew by—which wasn’t natural in Mr. Beebs. Most likely the man felt despair.

But Charlie assured himself he’d done the right thing. He couldn’t keep on a man who obviously had little respect for him.

Charlie felt like a bloody fool. He’d have to behave more responsibly and then hire someone who didn’t know the extent of his negligence.

Daisy turned to him, fire in her eyes. “Look at you,” she hissed. “All you care about are things.”

He cast her a sideways glance and started walking toward the Keep’s front entrance. “Things?”

“Castles. Money.” Tears blurred Daisy’s vision. “Who cares about the people in them? Or not in them, for that matter. All the villagers left here disappointed tonight. Did you even notice? And Mr. Beebs … he was trying to be kind, helping me keep Vandemere, so he allowed us to use the Keep.”

Charlie kept his eyes straight ahead. “You were the one after property and money, not me.”

Daisy felt a stab of pain near her heart. He seemed so removed from her already. He was once again the viscount, the smug, world-weary one who’d appeared on her doorstep in tattered clothing.

“Only because I care about my home—and Joe and Hester,” she tried to explain for the umpteenth time. “I wanted to make a life for us that wouldn’t rely on the whims of my stepmother. You have no reason to be so angry.”

Charlie stopped and looked coldly at her. “Don’t you see? Finding out I’m responsible for the well-being of this vast fortress and Castle Vandemere—and that I shirked my duties here—is the most humiliating moment of my life. I’ve brought dishonor to my family and misery to Glen Dewey.”

“Charlie,” she whispered. “Neither one of us is bad. Please don’t be so hard on yourself. Or me.”

His expression was inscrutable. But then he walked on.

“Charlie! Is that all?”

He stopped one more time, no warmth on his countenance. “Stay in the castle for as long as you wish without paying the feu duty.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask.” The castle was the last thing on her mind. Daisy prayed for courage. “What about … us?”

“What about us?” He lifted his chin. “I told you—I’m a rich, bored bachelor. Not to be trusted.”

“But I”—her voice was a bit wobbly—“I think I might be in love with you.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

Daisy had no idea those words would come out of her mouth, but they had. And she knew they were true.

She did know what love was. It was standing by Charlie now, when he was at his lowest ebb. It was giving him the benefit of the doubt, even when he didn’t believe in himself. It was wanting to be with him completely and forever.

When she looked at him, she realized love was so many other things. The wave of his hair. His strong jaw and warm, brown eyes. His grin. His smile. His mouth, his laugh, his funny jokes—

And his trying so hard to be a good, honorable man!

“I know you didn’t win that sheep-shearing contest simply to avoid losing the bet with your Impossible Bachelor friends,” she told him.

“That’s exactly why I tried to win it.”

She shook her head. “You did it for me, too. You wanted to please me. And you did it for you. Because you want to be the man who strives, Charlie. You don’t want to be that indolent bachelor with no purpose other than counting your gold coins.”

He lowered his brow. “I appreciate your concern. As I said earlier, you may stay in the castle.”

How those words hurt!

“You think that’s why I said ‘I love you,’ don’t you?” She gulped back more tears. “You think I want to marry you so I can get Vandemere back for good.”

He said nothing at first.