“He is for me,” Perdita said, snapping a particularly sturdy twig.

“Well, nothing’s stopping you from writing him then and confessing your true feelings,” Daisy replied smoothly.

Perdita sniffed. “I already did. I’ve received no reply.” She broke another twig.

“Where did you send it?”

“To the Spanish Marquis. Castle de Salazar. Spain.”

“That’s all you wrote as the address?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps it will find him. But it’s not been more than five weeks. He’s still traveling.”

Which was why Daisy had written him herself. The day after he’d left, she’d sent a missive with Benjamin MacAdoo, one of Mrs. MacAdoo’s sons, to carry with him on his trip south via horseback. He’d surely overtake the more lumbering carriages of the international visitors. Benjamin had reported back that he had, indeed, met up with the Spanish marquis and delivered the letter himself.

But nothing had come of it, sadly.

Daisy would never let Perdita know.

Cassandra was happily dusting. Mr. Beebs had come round to see her enough times that any day now, Daisy expected a marriage proposal.

“And you, Cassandra?” she asked her. “Do you want to go to the ceilidh?”

Her sister turned to her, her eyes bright. “If Mr. Beebs will be there.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Will you go?” Cassandra asked her.

Daisy tapped her quill on the edge of the ink pot. “I’m staying behind.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “But why?”

Daisy shrugged and pretended to be indifferent. “I’m not fond of Scottish dancing. All that hopping and leaping and, well … sometimes it’s simply too much for me.”

“Ye know darned well you can hop and leap with the best of us,” Hester said.

“I’m sure I could if I wanted to,” said Daisy, “but I don’t. I’m preoccupied with … sewing. So everyone, please leave me alone about the ceilidh.”

“How’s the whisky making going, Joe?” Daisy asked to change the subject, but she was also truly interested.

“Verra well,” he replied. Perdita’s larch twigs were spilling out of the latest fish basket, and he was stacking them back neatly. But not nearly fast enough to keep up with Perdita. Talk of the ceilidh seemed to have riled her more than usual. “Now we just have to wait ten years.”

“Ten years?” Daisy couldn’t believe it.

“Tha’s how long it takes me to make a good batch,” said Joe.

She tried not to sigh with impatience. “But we need money sooner.”

Joe shrugged. “Whisky’s currency around here. We can always fetch the casks in the secret cellar in Castle Vandemere, if no one’s found the stash yet.”

A thrill went through Daisy. “You never told us there was a secret cellar!”

“A course not,” Joe replied. “It were a secret.”

“Oh. Right.” She’d never be able to keep a secret about a hidden cellar!

Hester nodded. “You’ll have to steal it during the ceilidh, Joe. We meant to take it with us, but Miss Perdita was caterwauling so loud, I couldnae think straight. Och, how I miss her Highlander days. She was a braw, brave lad for one golden week.”

Perdita snapped another twig and narrowed her eyes at Hester.

“I like your idea about retrieving the whisky, Joe.” Daisy finished writing her reply to the invitation by signing it with a grand flourish. “There.”

She leaned back to admire her work and hoped that Charlie would be able to tell by the extravagant loops beneath her signature that she wasn’t missing him in the least.

She made one more loop to remind him that he’d crave her company terribly at the ceilidh, and then asked Perdita to deliver the note to Mrs. MacLeod, who no doubt would be collecting a whole stack of them for a group of boys to carry up to the Keep later that afternoon.


The very next morning, the residents of Rose Cottage received an unexpected visitor. They knew Mr. Beebs was coming with his usual bunch of flowers. But this time he brought a lovely older woman with him. She was tall and graceful and dressed so fashionably, the humble cottage looked more humble than it had ever done.

“I’ll leave you to get to know one another,” Mr. Beebs said after he’d made the introductions.

Lady Pinckney tilted her head in a friendly manner and smiled at them all. She had the same eyes as Charlie: a rich, warm brown. “It’s a delight to meet you,” she murmured.

Daisy curtsied, but she forgot to breathe. She gave a nervous smile but couldn’t speak, and her hands grew cold with nerves.

“Your eyes haven’t changed,” Lady Pinckney said to her. “So expressive they were, even when you were a baby.”

“R-really?” Daisy was amazed. “But—”

She wasn’t her goddaughter. Cassandra was. She stole a look about the room. Where was Cassandra?

And then she caught some movement outside the window and saw Cassandra hand in hand with Mr. Beebs. They appeared lost to the world as they moved through the small garden.

“No buts, Miss Montgomery,” Lady Pinckney said. “Now come with me. We have some talking to do. And when we’re done, I have something to give you.”

“Now just wait a minute,” Mona broke in rudely. “This girl doesn’t have my permission to leave yet.” She looked over Lady Pinckney with a disdainful eye.

Lady Pinckney trained her own intimidating gaze on Mona. “She will come with me. Oh, yes, one thing more. You, Mrs. Montgomery, are not invited to tonight’s ceilidh.”

Mona would have gasped, but she was apparently so shocked that she merely gulped.

No one else said a word. Perdita broke a stick in a malevolent fashion but froze in place when Lady Pinckney cleared her throat with authority.

“Come, Daisy.” She moved toward the door. “I won’t bite, you know.” She threw a warning glance at Mona. “Unless highly provoked,” she added, then turned her back and glided regally outside.

Daisy followed as if she’d had a spell cast upon her.

At the door, she looked back to see that the room seemed to be under a spell, too. No one said a word. They were still, their eyes wide with either respect, fear, admiration, or hatred, depending upon who they were.

And then she had the sad thought that Charlie must have gotten a great deal of his strong will from his grandmother. She’d bet Lady Pinckney had the same sense of adventure, too, that Charlie did.

Indeed, it seemed that Lady Pinckney was a real force of nature, and Daisy felt rather proud of her connection to her—even though she’d been highly mistaken as to that connection, which was really no longer a connection at all.

The knowledge that all her ties to Charlie’s family were broken made Daisy miss him more than ever.

In the fresh outdoors, Lady Pinckney insisted on taking off her bonnet and walking in the sun. “I like how Highland lasses wear braids and forsake bonnets,” she said. “It’s perfectly charming.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Daisy replied.

With a hefty sigh, the lady linked her arm with hers. “What am I to do with you, Daisy?”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lady Pinckney laughed. “Of course you do. I want you to come to my grandson’s ball. Yet you wrote a note declining.”

Daisy bit her lip. “I didn’t know you’d be there. Had I known, I would have …” She hesitated.

“Accepted?”

They were strolling along a slow-moving burn, the sun casting dots of gold on the water.

“No, my lady.” Daisy looked bashfully at her. “I would have declined—but gone in disguise so I could peek at you.”

“Pooh,” said Lady Pinckney. “You’ve no reason to hide from Charlie. And please call me Lucy.”

“I daren’t. You’re a lady, my lady.”

“I insist. All my goddaughters do. Before I was a lady, I was a girl. Just like you. And I still am, beneath all the folderol that goes along with being a member of high society.”

“All right.” Daisy chuckled. She adored the woman already. “But, Lucy, I’m not hiding from Charlie. I love him, actually.” She stood still, and felt tears prick her eyelids. “But he thinks he’ll never be able to trust me because I wanted Castle Vandemere so badly. It would always stand between us. Did I marry him for a pile of stones I happen to adore—or not? He’d always ask that question.”

Lucy pursed her lips. “All his wealth has made him quite defensive. So many women have come after him just for his money, you know.”

“I’ve no doubt,” said Daisy. “That’s what I wanted from him, too.” She picked a leaf off a nearby chestnut tree and folded it, over and over. When she was done, she looked up at Lucy. “But I want him more. So much more. I tried to tell him that, but he didn’t believe me.”

Lucy waved a hand. “If it’s love, nothing will keep you apart. It takes the power out of fear. And pride. And all those important objections to being together that turn out to be not so important, after all.”

Daisy pondered that a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say.

“Look,” said Lucy. “I’ve got you a lovely surprise in a box under the shady tree behind the cottage. I want to be there when you open it.”

Daisy was excited, yet scared.

“Be at ease, child,” said Lucy. “This is a lovely surprise, and you’ve been too responsible for far too long. It’s time to have fun.”

She sat down beneath the tree and patted the ground beside her. Daisy sat, too, and Lucy handed her the box, which she opened with trembling fingers.

Inside was an exquisite ivory gown made of the most luxurious satin with beautiful little embroidered sleeves and gold beads sprinkled over the hem and bodice. It looked as if it had been sewn for a princess. Daisy had never seen a garment so beautiful in her entire life. She pulled it out and held it up.