Chapter Four

T here. She had said it. Whether that would deter him from whatever Lord Primrose thought he was doing here, she knew naught.

"If ye dinna mind me asking. Why is your cousin so insistent?"

Surely, he knew that she was of marrying age. At this point, she might as well be headed toward spinsterhood. At least that is what he must think, considering her age. He had no idea she was previously married. Really, he knew naught about her.

Maybe if she told him of her past, he would run for the hills.

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

"Mayhap we should sit for a time?"

"Of course." He hurried her over to a stone bench shaded by a large oak tree.

Joan stayed within eyesight, but out of earshot, and Willamina rubbed her hands down the skirt of her gown, the material soft under her fingers.

"I am unsure of what my cousin has told ye. But my past is a storied one. I am no innocent maiden if that is what ye are in search of. If that is the case, ye should leave now."

To Lord Primrose's credit, his expression remained passive. There was no look of condescension. He remained quiet, his eyes set on hers and waited for her to continue.

How much should she tell him? Everything? Something? The bare minimum? She was not sure. Though she appreciated that he was not pressuring her in any way.

"I was married," she blurted out. She did not mean to say it that way, but it just happened, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them.

His brows lifted slightly in surprise, but he still said naught.

Even with the sun hidden behind the clouds, the air was so hot out here. Willamina did not have her fan with her, so she waved her hands in front of her face to try to cool down.

Lord Primrose's proximity. The impending conversation. It was too much to deal with. What she said to him would surely scare him away.

The thought both saddened her and made her happy.

For one, she did not want this. But for the other, he was incredibly handsome. Strong, tall. Titled, not that she cared for that. She already had hers. But what would it feel like being held in his strong arms?

Divine. That was what it would feel like. A feeling completely unknown to her.

He coughed, and she was sure it was to bring her wandering attention back to them.

A blush crept up her neck and she gave him a small smile. Why was it so hard to speak to him of this subject? Never in her life had she had a hard time speaking her mind.

Lord Primrose did things to her body and mind that made her feel incompetent.

"My husband passed away a few years ago."

His blue eyes darkened and a frown dipped the corners of his mouth. "I am verra sorry to hear that. My condolences on your loss."

She shook her head. "Nay, 'tis all right. Thank ye, though."

"Is that why ye are under your cousin's guardianship?"

"Aye. Nay." She pushed off the bench and continued down the path they had been strolling along earlier. Heavy footsteps crunched the gravel behind her and soon Primrose was matching her strides at her side.

"When my husband passed, our assets' oversight fell to my father. Late last year, he and my mother were killed when their carriage overturned. Since Gil is my only remaining relative, he now controls all my assets."

Primrose nodded. "I can understand that, but why the rush?"

"Honestly, I dinna ken," she shrugged. "I think he doesna care for the added responsibility. We didna really know each other until this happened, and I believe he sees it as an encroachment of his privacy." She threw her hands up in exasperation. "He could have just left me in Inverness. I was perfectly happy there."

"Ah, ye are from Inverness. That explains why I didna recognize ye."

"I am. And I miss it dearly."

Primrose gently took hold of her elbow and maneuvered her around a puddle in the pathway. "If your cousin did not want the responsibility and ye were perfectly happy in Inverness, than why not just assign ye a guardian there? That way, his life here remained uninterrupted."

The reasoning for that was not something she was ready to get into right now. Though Lord Primrose had set her mind at ease by being so amiable to talk to, she felt like she had revealed enough for this day.

"Mayhap that is a tale for another day, my lord," she smiled so he would not take affront at her refusal.

He grinned. "That means ye would like me to call upon ye again?"

She looked at him, confused. "Do ye no' want to go running for the hills?"

He barked out a laugh, the sound echoing in the small stone tunnel they were walking in. "Because ye were formerly married and tragically lost your husband? I hardly see why that should mark ye as if ye have the pox, my dear lady."

*

Finlay could not believe that Lady Watson would think herself disqualified from marrying again just because she had previously been married.

He needed no fair maiden. A virgin was not a requirement for his wife. As a matter of fact a wife with her first experience out of the way and in the past would actually be a welcome thing.

"I am surprised ye are still interested, Lord Primrose. My cousin doesna believe it could be so. Hence the varying ages and traits of the men currently sitting in the parlor awaiting our return."

"Did ye love your husband?" He cursed quietly, the words spilling forth from his mouth before he could stop them. "If ye dinna mind me asking," he quickly added.

"Our marriage was complicated. I will no' speak ill of the dead, but 'twas no' a love match on both sides. Instead it was part of a long-in-place plan of my parents and him. I did grow to love him, but he did no' feel the same."

He could not imagine being forced to marry someone he did not have feelings for. It was a formula for a miserable life. She did not say as much, but he could read between the lines. It was clear as day that she had not been happy.

"And that is why ye dinna want to remarry?"

She nodded, but said naught more.

He was sure there was more to the story, but he had prodded into her history enough for one day.

"'Tis understandable. Bad experiences make us want to avoid any such thing from happening again."

Biting her lip, she stared straight ahead, avoiding his eyes. "I do suppose that is true. While I dinna want a husband, I would like to regain control of what is mine, without my cousin's interference."

A plan began to form in Finlay's mind. He would have to think on it more, but he was certain in the end, they could both achieve what they desired.

Desired might not be the best word for what he was thinking, for when he thought of desire, the only image in his mind was Willamina Watson. She was undeniably desirable. And whatever her late husband had done to scar her so, he was a bastard for it.

She deserved to be treated like a queen. Put on the highest pedestal and taken care of so she did not have to worry about a thing.

He loosened his cravat, the temperature was beginning to warm up. Mayhap it was time they rejoined the others.

"Shall we return inside?" he asked. "We have been out for some time and I dinna want ye to get overheated."

She let out a long sigh. "I suppose ye are right. But I do dread going back in there."

"Too many prospects?"

A most unladylike laugh erupted from her throat and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

He found her positively amusing.

"I do apologize for that. But, nay, there is absolutely no one waiting inside that are even close to being prospects. If I were even considering marriage, of course," she quickly added. "May I be frank?"

"I would love naught more, my lady."

She smiled, hooking her arm into his. "Lord Graham is impossibly old. Why my cousin would even make him believe he would be considered is beyond me. Lord Wingot is, well, Lord Wingot, and for that I have no interest whatsoever. Lord Kelly is the right age, if I am being honest, and if I were actually looking, but he seems rather pompous to me. A trait I find intolerable. Not to mention his height.

"And that leaves Baron Battersby, the poor lad." She looked over her shoulder at Joan, who still followed at a far enough distance to make them aware of her presence, but not close enough to hear their conversation. "To be fair, I believe he is much better suited to Joan." She giggled and gave his arm a squeeze.

He dipped down close to her ear. "I do believe ye are correct on that. She did appear to be quite smitten with him as well." He patted her hand lightly, and took note that she didn't pull away.

"I did notice that, too."

As they made their way back toward Buckwood Manor, Finlay found himself enjoying their easy conversation mayhap a little too much.

"I was being truthful earlier," he confessed.

Looking up at him, her eyes round, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips and he wanted naught more than to bend and capture it between his teeth. She must have sensed his train of thought as her cheeks tinged pink.

She broke eye contact and asked, "About what?"

"When I said I would like to call upon ye on the morrow. I meant it."

He watched an array of emotions play across her beautiful face. Aye, there was definitely more to Lady Willamina Watson than she was telling him. He could only assume it was more than just her not wanting to get married again. Something had happened to her.

Who had hurt her? He wanted to know. He would track them down and make them pay. "If I come, will ye see me?"

Seconds ticked by as he waited for an answer. The time seemed like an eternity. He was half expecting for the sun to set and the night sky to bathe them in moonlight.

"I think I would like that," she answered finally.

He held back a cry of triumph, and instead inclined his head to her. "Then I shall do so."

When they entered the parlor, Graham and Wingot were nowhere to be found. Battersby's face lit up at the sight of Joan and he quickly approached her. However, Kelly sat in a chair near the fireplace, whisky in hand, talking to Buchanan.

"Ah, ye have finally returned," Buchanan stated as he stood and Kelly followed suit.

"Have Lords Graham and Wingot left already?" Willamina asked, not even attempting to hide that she could not care less that they had.

"Aye, something about other matters to attend. I assume ye enjoyed your stroll through the gardens?"

"'Twas lovely." He turned to Willamina. "And now that I have safely returned ye to your cousin, I shall take my leave. Thank ye for allowing me to escort ye for a walk." He bowed and then wanted to drown in the smile she gifted upon him.

"Buchanan, thank ye for welcoming me into your home. We shall have to meet for a drink one day soon." Much like the game Buchanan had mentioned the previous night, Finlay really had no interest in doing such a thing, but he was trying to play nice. Making an enemy out of Buchanan would not serve his burgeoning plan. "Kelly, I am certain I will see ye in the clubs."

"Domenic," Buchanan called, "Please show Lord Primrose out."

The rest of the day would be spent longing for when he could see Willamina again on the morrow. And when he did, he would have a plan in place. It was percolating in his brain, slowly growing into a life of its own. If Willamina accepted, it would solve both of their problems.

He had only arrived at Rosewood Manor thirty minutes prior when the silence of the house was disturbed. "Finlay!"

He groaned at the sound of his brother's voice calling out to him. What could he want, or worse yet, what did he need? More coin to feed his drinking habit, Finlay assumed. His and Yvette's house was paid for, so it couldn't be that.

"In the study!" Finlay called out, settling into his desk chair and waiting for his brother to enter.

Only it was not just his brother that walked through the door. Hell's teeth. Yvette hung on to Fingal, trying to keep herself upright. Both of them were completely drunk. The sour smell of liquor followed them into the room, making Finlay wrinkle his nose.

"Brother," Fingal called, the word drawn out. His arm was draped over Yvette's shoulder now that she was leaning against the wall.

She was close in age to him and Fingal, but before marrying his brother, she hadn't had an easy life. In all their meetings and discussions, it had not been confirmed that she was probably one of the many whores that Fingal had kept employed throughout the city. Finlay did not say that as an insult to his brother's wife. But she was his brother's usual type of woman. No chase. No courting.

Finlay was certain that was how they'd first met.

"I would like ye to meet my wife."