Willamina nodded. “Aye.”
Twenty minutes later, she was properly primmed and ready to meet her potential suitors. Lord, even the thought left a sour taste in her mouth. Mayhap she could talk to her cousin again later in the eve and convince him that she did not need to remarry.
But even as the thought entered her mind, she knew it was foolhardy. He no longer wanted the burden of caring for his widowed cousin, and, at this point, she was quite sure that it did not matter who the groom was.
She would no longer be his responsibility and that was all he cared about.
And in all actuality, whether she wanted it or not, she needed a husband. It would be best if she could find one of her choosing so as not to be married off to someone like Gerard, or heaven forbid, someone even worse.
*
Finlay sat uponthe wing backed chair near the fireplace and chatted with Buchanan. Their relationship was not a close one.They knew of each other more in passing than anything else, but of all the men here, Buchanan was the most interesting to talk to, which did not amount to much.
He looked about the parlor at the other four men who had come calling for Lady Watson. He had never seen a sadder lot than those that lounged about the room, some waiting more patiently than others.
Rupert, of course, was here. He kept swiping at his nose after every bite of the cucumber sandwich he had plucked off the tray that was put out for their visit. A most unbecoming trait.
Finlay kept to the tea that was offered, and took a sip every once in a while. Each time, he studied his competition from above the rim of the cup. He wasn’t ashamed to say that he believed he had a high chance of being Lady Watson’s choice. A surge of pride swelled in his chest at the thought.
After all, there was Lord Graham, who had lost his wife, and was on the prowl for a younger version. But the old sod was pushing sixty, if not over, and Finlay hoped that Gil had more sense than to marry Willamina off to such a dreadful union.
And then there was Baron Battersby, who in the opposite vein of Lord Graham, was much too young. Was he even twenty? What the hell was he doing here? He was not even established yet, other than the title.
Lord Kelly was Finlay’s age, and they had gone to Eton together, but their friend group was not the same. The poor man had gravity weighing him down and was just a midge over five foot when he stood at full attention. Finlay doubted he even came up to Lady Watson’s shoulders.
He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together, eager to get this visit underway. Buchanan was being a twit by making them all wait. Finlay was proud to say he was the first one to knock upon Buckwood Manor’s door this morn, but since he hadbeen allowed entry and shown to the parlor, it had been naught but a waiting game.
When Buchanan entered the room, he thought Lady Watson would surely be close behind, but here they were thirty minutes later and still no sign of the beauty.
“Are ye purposely making us wait to see if one of us will give up and leave?” he asked casually, while studying his nails, putting on a front of nonchalance.
“Is it working?” Buchanan laughed.
“Obviously no’,” he said dryly. “Considering we all remain.”
“Determined ye all are. ’Tis impressive, considering.”
That piqued Finlay’s attention. “Meaning?”
Buchanan shook his head. “It doesna matter. Willamina can make her own decisions when it comes to whoever she finds suits her. I will allow her that one liberty. But she must marry. So take note, Primrose. I would advise ye to take your leave now if ye are no’ serious about such a relationship.”
“I am no’ sure why ye think I would be here otherwise, but your warning is noted.”
Finlay’s mind wandered to what Buchanan meant by his ‘considering’ remark. He acted as though there was something wrong with the lass. Who, in his eyes, looked absolutely perfect.
He wondered if it had anything to do with why she didn’t introduce herself as a lady upon their first meet.
The sound of a commotion drew his attention to the parlor’s doors. Finlay stood, waiting for what he hoped was finally Lady Watson’s entrance.
His prayers were answered when the lass swept into the room, capturing all the air in the room, including from his lungs. Yesterday, he had found her beauty beyond compare. Today, whether it be due to not being outside in the heat, or just because she truly was an angel dropped down from heaven to grace the earth, Finlay had never seen such an exquisite woman.
He wanted to approach her. To push and punch his way through the men that crowded around her as soon as she entered, but he held back. From their brief talks, he had noted a streak of independence. The last thing she would want was him fawning over her. So, he held back, his irritation at its near limit watching the other men making fools of themselves.
He supposed that should make him happy. It would disqualify them more than anything else, but he hated the way they descended upon her as if she were prey. Like an antelope being attacked by a lion.
Feeling eyes upon him, he drew his glare away from the men, and his eyes connected with hers and all rational thought left his body.
Lord Graham was trying to get her attention, but she waved him off. And finally, Buchanan stepped in and told the men to give her space.
