If You Give a Girl a Viscount by Kieran Kramer Page B

but didn’t dare.
    Hester had called everything a “shocking turn of events” even before Daisy had whispered in her ear that the engagement was a ruse. After she’d learned the truth, Hester had amended her description to a “shocking, scandalous turn of events.”
    And it had been scandalous!
    All afternoon and early evening, Daisy couldn’t help thinking back to her initial conversation with the viscount, to how she’d slapped away his hand, exchanged bold words with him, and been pulled into his arms. Of course, the next thing she knew, they’d shared that first kiss.
    It had been short and sweet, even more delicious and unexpected than turning a corner and seeing a rainbow ahead. Or waking up, sliding into your chair at the breakfast table, and seeing a lovely cup of chocolate when all you thought you had in the house was tea.
    The second kiss defied description. Thinking about it brought on shortness of breath.
    Now it was dinner, and Daisy gathered her courage. She must face the viscount and decide exactly what to do with him—other than kiss him, that is.
    The gown she wore, a castoff from Cassandra, wasn’t the prettiest in the world, but she’d added a bit of lace trim to the sleeves and neckline that gave her an extra boost of confidence.
    “I don’t know why I feel the need to impress him,” she whispered to Hester, while the servant laced up the back of her dress. “But I do.”
    “It’s because he’s so handsome,” Hester said, adjusting Daisy’s curls. “Even though he’s got Sassenach blood, he’s the Golden Prince, all right. It’s uncanny.” She took Daisy by the shoulders and turned her toward the looking glass. “And you’re the Golden Girl.”
    Daisy blushed. “His being handsome has naught to do with it,” she tried to convince herself. “I must impress him for practical reasons. That’s why. He’s the key to keeping Castle Vandemere.”
    But she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be held in his arms again and kissed once more, without interruption.
    Hester made an impatient noise. “We’ll have none of that talk. Ye’re going to enjoy yourself tonight.” She draped the bold family tartan sash over one of Daisy’s shoulders. “Don’t ye be worryin’ about the feu duty. Not this evening.”
    Daisy stroked her hand over the sash that had belonged to her mother. “Yes. Who knows when I’ll ever be engaged in truth? I’ll do my best to enjoy it. And at the very least, if the viscount can help us keep possession of the castle, then I’ll be happy.”
    Hester sighed. “Happy? How can we be with the Furies in residence?”
    “We must endure them,” Daisy said. “Perhaps they’ll grow tired of Scotland and leave. They hate it so.”
    “I wish they would.”
    “Until they do, we’ll work around them,” Daisy said.
    Mama had taught her that. In the old days, she’d brought Daisy with her to her little bungalow that Papa had built her, to sit at her feet while she painted. “You have to work with the paint,” she’d told Daisy, “and work with whatever the day brings you. If it’s a wee bit dreary out, you paint it. But paint it so it makes you glad to be inside near a cozy fire.”
    “Just think how much better our nightly chats in the kitchen are because we know the Furies are too lazy and rude to join us,” Daisy said.
    “True,” the housekeeper replied with a sigh.
    Daisy grinned. “I vow if they weren’t appallingly close, the shortbread and milk wouldn’t taste half so fine. Nor would our jokes be as entertaining.”
    “I never thought of it that way.” Hester patted Daisy’s rear. “There must be enduring,” she said, “but there must also be true living . Which includes men and women falling in love.”
    “Hester.” Daisy felt her cheeks pinken. “You speak much too hastily.”
    Hester chuckled. “I dinnae say falling in love right away, although it can happen. I meant when the time is right, lass.”
    It won’t