“Ye must marryby the age of twenty-eight to retain the title of Earl of Rosebery.”
As Finlay finished his glass of whisky, the line from his father’s will played over and over in his mind. He was running out of time. His birthday fast approached and he was no closer to being married now than he was when his father passed three years ago.
Why ever the man put such a clause in his will, Finlay had no explanation. Both of them knew that Fingal was incompetent to lead the Primrose family into continued prosperity. It was not something said out of spite, but of experience, watching him throughout the years.
They may be twins, identical in appearance, but that is where the similarities ended. Different personalities. Different paths in life. Different morals and ethics.
His brother would be their family’s ruin if he were to ever take charge.
He thrummed his fingers against the wooden surface of the desk, playing out a steady staccato rhythm.
“Think, Finlay.Think.”
Miss Watson, nay,LadyWatson came to mind.
She was beautiful. Well spoken. Strong-willed, and he detected a touch of a sense of humor in their short exchange. But she was also a wee bit mysterious. Why had she not told him she was a lady when she introduced herself? Why keep that a secret?
He wanted to see her again. To know her past.
She could be the wife he was looking for.
Though her cousin, Buchanan, swept her away with great haste when he spotted them speaking.
Mayhap he would call upon her on the morrow. With her beauty, surely there would be a long line of suitors queued at Buckwood Manor.
He would just have to be the first.
Or, have a damn convincing argument as to why she should choose him.
Mind made up, he poured himself another glass of whisky and pushed away from his desk. It had been a long day, and he was ready for it to be over. The house was quiet as he made his way to his room. He could only assume that meant that Fingal was staying at his own home tonight. Rose Hall, the home Fingal and his wife, Yvette, were given on their wedding day, was on the estate’s grounds, though far enough away that Finlay didn’t really have to bother with them.
Knowing his brother, he more than likely had gotten kicked out of one of the pubs, and after making his way home, was now losing himself in his wife.
Finlay sighed. He could imagine Lady Watson warming his own bed. Her brown hair splayed across the pillow. Her pale cheeks flushed pink. Her soft skin…
He groaned and pushed a hand through his hair as his cock stirred.
No matter how long the day was, this night was going to be even longer. Images of Lady Watson would be burned into his mind until he got the chance to see her once again.
