All of that had been accomplished through correspondence. Standing before him now, it was all Finn could do not to rail against him.
“My friends, may I introduce Lord Keeley of Rossmore,” Argyll went on. “With Robert and James Adam observing a mourning period for their father, my architect William Adam, Rossmore has been brought in to oversee construction of the castle I’ve brought you here to view.”
Closing the door so that no servant passing by could eavesdrop, Finn executed a courtly bow and crossed the room to a table near the window. Spreading the plans flat, he used a candelabra and a porcelain shepherdess to hold down the corners. He also took the moment to curtail his temper. He’d be damned if he were the one who would walk out of this room looking a fool.
“Thank ye for yer invitation, yer grace. I’ve brought the plans for the castle for ye to enjoy at yer leisure.” He turned back to the room and found Etteridge among them. Far from where he’d stood at the fireplace earlier, the earl was now sprawled in one of the many armchairs grouped in the center of the room. Finn strolled toward him, noting with pleasure the man’s pallor. There was guilt written there. And fear. “With regret, I cannae stay. When I heard my old friend Lord Etteridge was among yer guests, however, I had to stop a moment and make myself known.”
“I was not aware you were acquainted with Lord Etteridge,” Argyll said with a frown. Not for Finn, but the earl.
“Our association was brief,” Finn assured him as he circled around the earl and clapped him on the shoulder. He wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed how white his knuckles were, or the pained look on the earl’s face. He couldn’t imagine what Marta saw in the worthless peacock. Nor did he care. “A few years ago, Etteridge visited my castle in Elgin and made himself quite at home. Everything that was mine, was his, ye might say. Isnae that so, Etteridge?”
The earl tried to squirm away, but Finn kept him pinned down.
The duke appeared more confused than anything. “What are you getting at, Lord Keeley?”
“My apologies, yer grace. I willnae disturb ye further.” Finn clapped Etteridge on the shoulder — hard enough to make the coxcomb wince — then withdrew a few steps. “Och, there is one thing. I’m submitting my notice to withdraw from yer employment. My children and I will depart on the morrow.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Etteridge flinch at the mention of Niall and Effie. Good.
Argyll heaved himself out of his chair and stood. “For what reason? Who will oversee my castle?”
“My business here is finished.” He didn’t give a damn who finished the castle.
Finn bowed again and turned. It was only a few steps before he heard the sigh. The relief. Nay, Marta wasn’t going to get away so easily. Forcing away the antipathy that curled his lip to resume an expression of bland indifference, he pivoted back to the room. This time his eyes found Marta and waited for the hatred and anger that should be his by rights to boil to the surface. There was nothing but disgust for what she had done. No love. Not even an ounce of embittered affection.
“Lady Etteridge.” She flinched when he said her name but refused to look at him. “I would be amiss if I dinnae congratulate ye on yer recent nuptials. If I might offer bit of advice? Before a lady marries…even a lord of such character as the Earl of Etteridge…she might want to take into consideration the fact that she is already wed in the eyes of God and man. Bigamy is a heinous crime, is it no’?”
A charged inhale stilled the occupants of the room. This time when Finn turned, he allowed himself a small smile. “Farewell, my lady wife.”
Silence was discharged by a commotion akin to that of a gaggle of geese. One squawking over the other. The duke demanded Finn return and explain himself. He ignored the command and yanked the doors open.
Once he was out of sight, the starch that kept him so rigid fell away. One didn’t need a servant to spread a rumor when the biggest gossip in England and Scotland combined could be found in Argyll’s duchess. Even a command from His Grace wouldn’t hold her tongue. Finn had accomplished all he could hope for unless he wanted to slap his glove across Etteridge’s cheek. Had the bastard been solely to blame, he might have. As it was, gossip and social ostracization would fulfill whatever punishment the law did not. Marta would have her comeuppance. Etteridge as well.
“Finlay?” The strident whisper came from the anteroom. It was Lady Etteridge. Come to make amends? Berate him? “Finlay!”
He should walk away. He’d said everything he needed to. Finn would much rather return to Aila. And he would have, if he didn’t hear Aila in his head insisting that he let Marta have her say. Probably with some nonsense about always wondering what she might have said.
With a suffering sigh, he walked into Marta’s line of sight. He would do no more to encourage her. She threw herself against him with a wail and proceeded to weep piteously. There’d been a time when he would have been moved by her tears. That time was long past.
“How could you do such a thing to me?” She beat her fists against his chest ineffectually. “You’ve always been a terrible brute. This is your fault. All of it! And now this? How could you?”
“How couldye?” Finn caught her by the shoulders and set her away from him. “How could ye leave yer own bairns like that?”
It was a chance for her to prove his assumptions wrong.
Marta sniffled and looked up at him, chin wobbling. “It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. When Etteridge came to Rossmore, I…I…”
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. It smacked of more drama than Aila had been able to summon, and his lass was a gifted performer.
“Did he force ye?” he demanded. “Coerce ye in some way? Dinnae think of lying to me.”
“I was lonely. Unappreciated.” Her expression hardened. “It’s your fault, really. Everything. Etteridge adored me. Lavished me with all the attention you did not. You never loved me.”
“I tried.” It was all he could offer now. “Yer reasons are nae excuse for yer duplicity. Do ye have any idea how Niall and Effie grieved for ye? ’Tis only recently Effie has begun to smile again.”
The weeping resumed. “I miss them terribly. Ye said they’re here? I want to see them.”
Finn recoiled from the suggestion. “There is nae chance in hell that will happen. Ever. I’ll no’ have them confused by yer reappearance and I’ll no’ let them suffer when ye’re gone again.”
