If You Give a Girl a Viscount by Kieran Kramer Read Free Book Online Page A

around to it. Of course, it might be years … London’s never dull.”
    “Where do you live in London?” the stepmother demanded to know.
    “Mayfair. On Grosvenor Square. If you still don’t believe me, write my good friend and neighbor, the Duke of Drummond. He’ll tell you.”
    “I’ve heard of the Duke of Drummond,” the older woman murmured.
    By now her cunning expression also showed hints of ambition, as Miss Montgomery had predicted.
    Miss Montgomery smiled pleasantly and looked him square in the eye. “The poor viscount has been set upon by footpads and lost his way. A kind soul in Glen Dewey sent him to us.”
    “Good thing,” he said, “as my fiancée” —he made sure to emphasize the word—“would be terribly concerned, otherwise.”
    “You’re engaged?” the stepmother demanded to know.
    “Yes. I am.” Charlie felt the full threat of her words and was vastly relieved to have a lie to tell. “To a lovely young lady.”
    He tried to think of a name. And then he tried to imagine what his imaginary fiancée looked like and couldn’t decide if she were blond, dark, or chestnut haired. Tall or short. She was most definitely the belle of every ball she attended, which she went to alone—as balls bored him.
    She was also a perfect virgin by day and a vixen by night.
    Even though that was impossible.
    But as she was only make-believe, he could make her anybody he wanted. She’d never speak of their impending nuptials, which somehow would never occur. And she certainly wouldn’t make outrageous demands, the way Miss Montgomery did.
    Of course, if she kissed the way Miss Montgomery did, that would be ideal. But in no other way would she be similar.
    “What’s your fiancée’s name, Viscount?” the giantess yelled.
    “W-would you like some tea?” Miss Montgomery asked him at the exact same time.
    Thank God for the tea question because he was hoping to avoid answering the first.
    But when he opened his mouth to say something, the pocket Venus interrupted. “I’ll see that he’s looked after, Daisy.” She raked him with a shrewd glance. “Go prepare his bedchamber immediately, and don’t dawdle.”
    “Bring us that tea first,” the stepmother ordered Miss Montgomery.
    “And don’t forget the milk,” the large one added in a booming voice. “You always do.”
    Charlie put aside for study later the discomfiting fact that the others were treating Miss Montgomery like a servant. Instead, he focused on her name.
    Daisy .
    He liked it.
    It suited her.
    Not that it mattered. It didn’t matter at all.
    But when she moved aside and the dark-haired siren took her place, he felt a lack—a lack he couldn’t put his finger on.
    Yet it was there, just the same.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Daisy hadn’t taken two steps when her stepmother repeated Perdita’s question: “Who is your fiancée, Lord Lumley?”
    Daisy stopped moving.
    Lord Lumley stared intently at her.
    She stared intently back.
    Come on, she was thinking. Think of a name!
    “Lord Lumley.” Mona’s demanding voice grated on Daisy’s ears. “Who is your fiancée?”
    Yes, who was she?
    “She stands here before me,” the viscount said in a rough voice.
    Who? Who stood before him?
    Daisy’s palms began to sweat. He’d spoken as if he’d had to recite that line in a very bad school play when he was ten years old.
    She locked gazes with the viscount’s and prayed he’d come up with a convincing tale.
    “She is Miss Montgomery,” he went on in a rather sick voice.
    Daisy looked over her shoulder, but there was no one there.
    He couldn’t mean—
    Gasps were heard from every member of her stepfamily. Daisy wanted to gasp, too, but she felt if she opened her mouth, she might scream.
    Swinging her gaze back to the viscount’s, she saw the sheer, dogged determination on his face to lie through his teeth and knew she was in for trouble.
    “Through letters,” he practically whispered, “Miss Montgomery— Daisy —has consented to