Chapter Nine
Cook was notoverly thrilled with Finlay’s lastminute announcement that they would be having guests join them for dinner.
After apologizing profusely and making amends, she finally gave in and set to work getting everything in order. He had not planned to ask Willamina to join him this night, but he found himself longing for her every moment they were apart.
He was like a lovesick puppy. It was a good thing his friends had not arrived yet. They would jab him relentlessly on his feelings.
Fingal and Yvette walked in shortly after Finlay arrived home. His brother frowned at all the commotion. “Since when are ye hosting dinner parties?” he asked. “Usually, ye just want to sit in your study by yourself being miserable.”
“I am engaged now, brother. We need to start planning the wedding.”
His brother rolled his eyes and snorted. “Whatever this is,” he moved his hands around in circles in front of him. “This whole situation, I am no’ believing it for one second. Anyone else, I could. But ye, ye who was so insistent about no’ marrying. Now ye are head over heels for the new lass in town? Bollocks.”
“Believe what ye will, brother. It matters naught. However, I do expect ye to be respectful to my bride to be and her family when they arrive shortly.”
“Och, dinna fash, brother.” He snapped his heels together and straightened his shoulders as if falling into formation for his captain. “I will be on my utmost best behavior.”
His devilish smile did not set Finlay’s mind at ease and as he watched Fingal leave the room, he wondered if his brother had some tricks up his sleeve. He seemed far too excited about their impending company.
Yvette remained behind, wringing her hands together, looking like she wanted to say something.
“What is it, Yvette?” he asked impatiently.
Her gaze drifted to the door Fingal had disappeared through. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut. Shaking her head, she hurried after her husband.
There was no time to dwell over what Yvette might or might not have said. Willamina would be arriving soon and he needed to make sure everything was perfect.
Looking over the final touches of the table that had been set, Finlay had no idea what he was looking at. Was the setting correct? He would assume so. He had never set the table in his life. And it was not like he could ask Fingal, nor would he. He feared his brother would know even less than he did. Mayhap Yvette would know, but he didn’t want to ask her either.
“A carriage approaches, my lord.” Archibald stated from his perch at the window. His butler had been like a hawk stalking his prey as he waited for a glimpse of their company. If Finlay didn’t know any better he would think that his butler was almost more excited than he was.
“Show them in, Archibald.”
Finlay’s palms were sweaty and he wiped them on his trousers. His nerves were at high peak, which made no sense to him. He had served in the war for God’s sake and had never had this type of reaction.
Time seemed to slow and drag as he waited for Willamina to enter Rosewood Manor. He hoped that she liked the estate. He was anxious to show her every nook and cranny of Rosebery lands.
He was standing near the door when Archibald swung it open and greeted Willamina and Gil.
Finlay’s breath hitched. Willamina was dressed in a periwinkle gown with capped shoulders and an empire waist. Her hair was piled on the top of her head in a mountain of curls, with a wavy tendril hanging loose on each side. At her throat, a gold chain adorned with a golden capped silver acorn, hung delicately.
He took her hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Ye look beautiful, Willamina.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she dipped into a curtsy.
“Thank ye, Finlay. Ye look quite dashing yourself.”
He puffed his chest out at her compliment. He had never much cared for such accolades, but when they came from Willamina, he wanted to hear them all day.
“Buchanan,” he greeted, shaking his hand. “Please, let us sit in the parlor for a before dinner drink. Cook has worked hard to provide us a meal fit for a queen and will be serving it shortly.”
In the parlor, Finlay poured three glasses of wine and handed Willamina and Gil each one, then held up his own glass. “I think cheers are in order.”
Fingal chose that time to burst into the room, Yvette close on his heels. “Dear brother, are ye celebrating without us? Now that is rude, I daresay.”
Finlay rolled his eyes.
Willamina’s eyes rounded in surprise. Och, in all the times they had talked, he had never brought up his brother, nor the fact that they were twins. Identical at that. Fingal was always atthe back of his mind, especially when he was with Willamina. Why waste thoughts and energy on such a louse?
