Gil would surely take immense pleasure in watching him grovel.
But grovel he would if that is what it took to get Willamina to see the truth.
*
After a sleeplessnight, Finlay knocked on the door of Buckwood Manor just after nine o’clock. It was early, but not so early as Willamina would not be up and already broken her fast. He could not wait any longer to call. The night had already seemed to last an eternity.
“Lord Primrose,” Domenic greeted as he opened the door. “Lady Watson is expecting ye.”
Finlay tried to hide his smile. That she was waiting for him could only mean good things, he had to assume. The oppositewas not something he wanted to entertain, and he pushed any negative thoughts out of his head.
Domenic led him to the parlor, where Willamina sat with a teacup perched in her hand.
“My lady, Lord Primrose has arrived.”
Her hand shook ever so slightly at the announcement, causing the tea to slosh in the cup before she stabilized it.
“Thank ye, Domenic. Ye may go.”
Finlay watched as the butler disappeared down the hall.
“Well, are ye going to sit or shall we speak with ye standing at the door?”
Finlay jumped into action, mumbling an apology as he sat down at the seat across from her.
“Tea?” she asked.
He declined and waited for her to speak. He wanted to start the conversation but felt that it was important for her to take control, so he let her have it.
“I understand that our,” her tongue darted out and wet her lips, “dinner last eve didna go as anticipated.”
He chortled. There was no other reaction that would be suitable. “’Tis an understatement, indeed.”
“My night was spent sleepless and in deep reflection. Playing our deal over and over in my head.” She sipped her tea, her eyes focused on the window.
“And what have ye come to conclude?” he asked, a hint of anxiousness tinging his voice.
“Our arrangement, as ye will, was one agreed upon out of need, not out of want. My cousin insisted I marry, and I only wanted to keep what was rightfully mine. But ye, ye on the other hand, said that ye needed to get married to take ye off the marriage mart.”
“Aye.”
“But that wasna exactly true, was it?” Sad blue eyes clashed with his.
He took a deep breath as he picked at imaginary lint on his trousers as he thought of the best way to answer her question. In the end, he could only give her the truth.
“Whilst ’tis true that I wanted to be out of sight of all the young women looking to make a good, suitable match, I also had another reason, which I stupidly withheld from ye. Willamina, I dinna know what I was thinking. I was being daft, really.”
“Ye played me for a fool.”
“Nay. Absolutely no’.”
She set the saucer down with a clatter and stood up. Pacing in front of the window. “I dinna ken why I e’en care. We were ne’er a love match. It was strictly business. Your reason for the union didna really matter any more than mine did. In the end we both would get what we wanted.” She spun and pierced him with an intense stare. “I just wish ye had been honest with me. Be honest with me now. Was what your brother spoke the truth?”
He nodded in defeat. “Aye. ’Twas. When our father passed, neither of us knew what was in his will. He had kept it a secret and neither of us paid any heed. Until the reading that is. It stated that if I dinna wed by my twenty-eighth birthday, I would forfeit the title of earl and it would move to Fingal.”
“Why would your father demand such a thing?”
He shrugged, shaking his head from side to side. “I dinna ken. It made no sense really. And honestly, I had not paid it any heed, until the nearing of my birthday. I spoke with his solicitor and the will was iron-clad. There was no way around it.”
