“Fingal, let me pour ye and Yvette a glass and ye can celebrate alongside us.”
“Aye. I wouldna miss this celebration for anything.” He sneered and accepted the wine Finlay offered.
“Willamina, this is Fingal, my brother, and Yvette, his wife.”
She stood and gave him a quick curtsy. “’Tis nice to make your acquaintance, sir. I had naught idea Finlay had a brother, ne’er mind a twin.” She smiled at Yvette. “Nor did I ken he had a sister-in-law. ’Tis verra nice to meet ye.”
Fingal laughed. “I am no’ surprised. When one is the black sheep of the family, he tends to no’ be mentioned in polite company.”
“I am certain that is no’ the case, Fingal,” Willamina said kindly.
“Well, mayhap no’. However, I do agree that a celebration is in order.” He held up his glass and the others followed suit. “To my dear brother, congratulations on the win. To his lovely bride to be, Willamina, ye may be a prize, but I do hope he makes ye happy.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she held up her glass in salute before taking a sip. Her eyes darted between them. “I am uncertain what ye are referring to, sir, but I thank ye for the salute.”
“My lord,” Archibald called from the doorway. “Dinner is served in the dining hall.”
“Thank ye, Archibald. We will be there momentarily.”
Really what he wanted to do was go over to his brother and swat him in the head. Or box his ears. Or beat his arse. He should have known that his brother would spend the night making jabs at him. And by the look on Fingal’s face, he knew exactly what he was doing and how annoyed Finlay was.
“Shall we?” Finlay asked Willamina, offering his arm, so he could escort her to the dining hall.
She accepted his arm and let him lead the way out the room. She leaned in close. “I did no’ ken ye had a brother.”
“Aye,” his voice was clipped. “I apologize that he did no’ come up in conversation whilst we were talking. I tend to try to push him out of my mind.” He pulled out her chair to allow her to sit before dropping in his own chair at the head of the table.
“I have ne’er had any siblings, myself. I would expect that it would be difficult to try to purposely forget them.”
A small wave of guilt rushed over him. Her statement made sense—if one did not know his brother. But knowing his brother as he did, her statement was entirely incorrect. She would realize that if she ever got to know Fingal the same way Finlay did. And since his brother was apparently hell-bent on making his feelings of being shorted for the family fortune and title known to all in attendance, he was thinking that she would realize the will of his ways sooner rather than later.
*
Willamina sighed, runningher hand along the wooden banister of the curved staircase as she descended the stairs. She was on her way to meet with Joan in the salon to discuss what needed to be ordered. Honestly, she was fine with a simple ceremony. Low budget and not over the top, but Finlay insisted it be extravagant and that he spare no expense.
Guilt ate her stomach. She felt bad spending any money on what was in essence a farce. He should save his money so that when, in the future, he married for true, he could spend all he wanted. Wringing her hands, she paced the length of the salon, waiting for Joan to arrive.
Willamina missed Inverness. Planning a wedding, fake or not, should be shared with friends. Joan was a sweet lass, and Willamina enjoyed her company, but Joan was here because she had to be, not because she wanted to be.
But even if she were still in Inverness, would her friends really want to help her plan? Nay, she had no more friends. How easily one could turn on another on rumors spread to inflict pain and dissidence. It just proved to her that they were not her friends at all.
“My lady, good morn. Have ye broken your fast?”
“Good morn, Joan. I havena, but I am no’ hungry right at this moment.” She had met Gil in the dining hall this morn as he broke his fast, but she had no appetite. Anything Cook offered she graciously turned away, assuring the sweet woman that it was only because she wasn’t hungry. She patted the seat beside her, inviting Joan to sit next to her.
“This afternoon, I have an appointment with the modiste to discuss gown designs.”
“How exciting, my lady,” Joan clapped her hands together, a wide smile on her face. “Until then, what shall we do?”
“I need your help planning the guest list. As ye know, with me being new to the city, I do no’ ken most of the people here. Mayhap ye can tell me who should be invited?”
“Let me fetch a quill, ink, and paper and we can get started. How exciting!” The maid jumped to her feet and hurried out of the room and returned a few moments later, her cheeks flushed from hurrying to and fro.
Three hours later, Willamina had the list of attendees in hand. Hopefully, Finlay would be happy with them. She really had no idea of the suggestions Joan made. They seemed to make sense when she explained why a particular person should be invited, so Willamina accepted the suggestions and would discuss them with Finlay the next time they were together.Of course, she couldn’t speak to who he wanted to have in attendance. She would get his request and give it to Joan to add to the list.
They were less than two weeks away from their wedding now. Her nerves were making her anxious, which made no sense whatsoever. The marriage was not real. They had no feelings for each other.
Even as the thought entered her mind, it left just as quickly.
