Chapter Six

W illamina listened to the introductions with half an ear and, her gaze just briefly meeting with the potential suitor before straying back to clash with Lord Primrose's intense stare.

As he did yesterday, he stayed off to the side, watching all the interactions. Waiting his turn to approach after all the others had made their introductions.

She had boxes and pouches of gifts piled beside her. While she appreciated the gestures, she really had no interest and would find a way to have the items returned to whoever it was that had gifted them to her.

"My lady," Primrose greeted, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss upon her knuckles, his blue eyes never leaving hers, while he let his lips linger just a tad longer than was proper.

She inhaled deeply, trying not to show how much he affected her.

"My lord," she countered. "How verra nice to see ye again." She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to tell him how she had hoped that he would call upon her again. But proper etiquette stopped her from doing so.

He dipped his head, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "I fear I canna go a day without calling upon ye." The statement was loud and boastful. Meant for everyone to hear.

And hear they did, indeed.

Mumbling and grumbling erupted through the men gathered in the parlor.

"Primrose," one of the men called. Willamina would love to say which one, but she could not.

She remembered not one of the names that were introduced to her before Lord Primrose approached her.

"Aye, Jackson. I havena seen ye about recently. Just arrived from your trip overseas I hear."

The man nodded. "I have. But when I heard the lovely Lady Watson was on the marriage market, I had to ensure making the acquaintance."

She blanched at his statement. She'd never felt like such an object to be bought and bartered with.

Lord Primrose frowned. "On the market? Ye talk of the lady as if she were some prized pig at the fair. Have some manners, man."

Willamina clamped her hand on her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. It was as if Lord Primrose had entered her mind and read her thoughts. Sir Jackson narrowed his brown eyes at Lord Primrose before mumbling a clipped apology and slinking to the other side of the room.

Catching Primrose's gaze, she dipped her head ever so slightly to thank him for his defense. She longed for everyone to clear the room so they could be alone.

Gil was deep in conversation with someone whose name she also couldn't remember and was completely ignoring her. Joan was off to her right, hanging back so as not to intrude. But Willamina would like naught more for her to do so. These men calling were exhausting. How long would this go on? She would do anything to make it stop.

"Lady Watson," Primrose called loudly once again.

He really was making a show of things for everyone in the room.

"If it pleases ye, I have arranged for an informal picnic for us to share. Everything is set, and just waiting for my direction to place."

He was offering her an escape from this room which she found to be positively claustrophobic. All these men that had been staring at her were now glaring at Primrose, so she enjoyed the brief respite of being the center of attention. That placement had always made her uncomfortable.

"I would verra much enjoy that, my lord."

His wicked smile sent shivers down her spine as he held his hand out for her to accept.

The gasps of the men as they exited the room with Joan following closely behind was the icing on the cake.

The weather was warm, with the sun high in the sky as they walked across the gravel drive and away from the house. Ahead was her cousin's prized fountain. Something he had commissioned from Italy. The white marble was buffed to a shine that glinted under the sun with huge fish forming an arch over a foaming ocean wave. It was not to her taste, but Gil loved it and talked about how he had come into possession of it whenever he could. She had heard him boast about the cost of it on more than one occasion since arriving at Buckwood Manor.

Usually, it sat alone, surrounded by green grass, in the middle of a sectioned off corner of the landscape to prevent anyone from touching it. Gil feared that the oils from people's skin would damage the marble. She didn't think that was possible but remained quiet whenever he mentioned it.

But today, the grass was covered with items for a picnic. On a large blanket, decorated with the light green and yellow colors of the Rosebery tartan, were teacups and saucers, scones, cakes, and fruits.

"'Tis beautiful, my lord." She could count on her hands the times she had been to a picnic—none. Gerard was too busy with his many paramours and his interests did not lie in romantic acts for Willamina. He would have never done such a grand gesture for her.

"I am glad ye approve and I do hope ye enjoy it."

She was speechless. She sat down and he dropped down across from her.

"How are ye feeling the husband hunt is unfolding?"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed in exasperation and scrunched up her face. "'Tis exhausting. As we have previously discussed I have naught interest. But since I must I have yet to convince Gil to stop this farce." She bit her lip, thinking she may have insulted him. "I mean no offense, my lord."

"None taken." He looked around them. "No one is within hearing distance. I would prefer ye to call me Finlay, if ye dinna mind."

Did she? This was a big step forward. It seemed small, but was it really? Would she call any of the other men dawdling around in the parlor by their first names?

Nay, she would most definitely not.

"If it feels uncomfortable to ye, ne'er mind. But I must confess, I may have nefarious reasons for setting up this picnic and once again getting ye alone from everyone else."

"Oh?" She was intrigued now.

"Aye." A wicked glint brightened his eyes.

"Well, ye now have me interested in your intentions, sir."

"Tea?" At her nod, he poured them each a cup from the bone china teapot.

She added two cubes of sugar and sipped it to test the taste. Pleased with it, she nodded at him to continue.

He cleared his throat, tugging at his cravat as he cocked his head to the side. If she knew him better, she might think he was nervous about whatever he was about to propose.

"Much as ye find yourself being forced to take a husband, I, myself, am in the same predicament. I feel like we may be of benefit to each other."

Her brows shot up at his revelation. "How so?"

He took a sip of tea before continuing. She could not stop herself from watching his throat bob up and down with the action.

"We both need to wed, but neither of us want to. What if we married one another?"

The tea she was sipping burst from her mouth in the most unladylike manner. She snatched a napkin and dabbed at her mouth, embarrassed for making herself look like a fool, but she could not believe what had just come out of Lord Primrose's mouth. How did marrying solve their need to not get married? "I apologize. That took me unawares. Pardon?"

He chuckled. "I ken it may seem a daft idea, but it would solve problems for both of us. It would take ye off the marriage market. Your cousin would no longer make ye meet callers, nor would they visit ye day after day. And I would make my father a verra happy man—if he were alive to see it."

She shook her head. "I dinna ken what ye are saying. Though I do agree about the daft part. I believe ye have forgotten the part where I stated I dinna want to marry."

"Right, right. We would be married, but no' in the conventional sense. And to be clear, ye dinna want to marry, but ye need to marry."

She began to stand. "I am sorry, Lord Primrose. I dinna know what kind of woman ye think I am, but I refuse to be some, some pretense of a wife that ye push on to the world whilst ye parade a steady stream of mistresses under my nose."

"Pardon? What? Nay," he grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit near him again. "That is no' at all what I am proposing." His brows drew together. "I would ne'er disrespect ye in such a manner. E'er. Hell, I dinna want any woman, and I have no mistresses."

"Or men," she stated bluntly.

"Excuse me?" He snapped, pushing his hands through his hair, causing the ends to stick up in all directions. He looked positively flustered.

And positively handsome.

"I have no interest in men, I can assure ye."

*

Lady Willamina Watson was ridiculously frustrating. And if this conversation were not going the opposite way of how he intended, he would find it most comical. But she was taking everything he said the wrong way. He'd managed to insult her when that was not his intention at all.

"I am apparently daft, because I have naught idea what ye are trying to propose." She jutted her chin out stubbornly. He found it utterly endearing.

He drew in a deep breath and looked out over the lawn. Joan was still far enough away that if they kept their voices down, she would not hear what they were discussing, and she was doing her best to focus on everything but them.

"Ye are no' daft. Dinna e'er say such a thing. I fear I am not conveying myself verra well. This all sounded perfect in my head as I concocted it, but now that I have said it aloud it sounds positively outlandish. Please, do give me another chance to explain."

He held his breath as he watched an array of emotions play across her beautiful face. She looked back toward Joan before turning her dark blue-eyed gaze on him once again.

She shrugged. "I really am unsure of what ye are trying to accomplish with this conversation." She ran her hands over her pale-yellow gown, smoothing the silk. "But, whate'er 'tis, I shall listen." She straightened her shoulders and folded her hands on her lap and waited for him to continue.

"As a way for us to end our current predicaments, I am proposing that we wed. We could easily convince society that we are a love match. I have no doubt in that."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "What is in it for ye? Other than control of my assets?"

"Your assets will remain yours to do with as ye please. I have naught interest in them."

"I am no' sure I believe ye."

"I have my own holdings. My own coin. I have no use for yours. Of course, if ye agree to this, ye would need to move into Rosewood Manor with me. Ye are free to do what ye will with any real estate or coin ye hold from your late husband."

She pushed off the ground and paced in front of the fountain. "I still dinna understand."

"Lady Watson. I enjoy your companionship. Talking to ye is a joy. Ye are funny and quick-witted. Independent and strong. At night, and whene'er I am no' in your presence, I find myself longing for your company. To be frank and mayhap a wee bit forward, I feel we would make a perfect match."

There, he'd said it. Now he only needed to convince her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he stood, holding up his hand to stop whatever argument she might be thinking up.

"I know ye dinna want to marry. Nor do I. But life has dealt us both a hand we dinna want. Our only way out is a mock marriage, in every sense other than paper. Our union would be recorded and recognized by the crown. Satisfying those surrounding us, forcing us to make a decision with someone we possibly may not want.

"This," he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to come up with the right words. "This agreement takes the decision out of others' hands and puts it in our own."

She bit her lower lip, causing it to plump and his heart skipped a beat.

"A marriage of convenience?"

He nodded.

"What wifely duties would ye expect of me?" she asked quietly.

He expected that question. And he refused to force her into anything she did not want. "Any duties are entirely up to ye. I expect naught. 'Tis no' my right."

"'Tis if ye are my husband."

He bobbed his head in understanding. "True. To the outside world, let them think we are living the life of newlyweds. Happy and blissful. In private, when no one is looking—we dinna. 'Tis a secret I will take to my grave."

Her pause told him more than her words ever could. She was thinking about it. He wanted to throw a fist in the air and claim triumph, but he could not do that. Not yet.

"But ye dinna e'en ken my past?" she mumbled.

"I ken ye were married. Ye are a widow. Your parents have passed. Anything else there is to ken, ye can tell me when ye feel the time is right."

Wringing her hands, she looked from him to the window of the parlor, where the men inside were no doubt growing irritated that they had spent so much time outside. Their anger was not aimed at her. Though he was certain he had made enemies of the lot.

"Why would ye want to be saddled down with me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"My lady, ye are beautiful. Saddled down is hardly the phrase I would use. I would be the luckiest man alive."

"Even if the marriage is no' consummated? I canna give ye what ye want. What ye need. What ye deserve in a wife."

He did his best to mask his disappointment. He considered that might be a sticking point and right now he did not care. Just knowing that he would spend the rest of his days with this incomparable woman by his side, brought a smile to his face. "E'en so. If friendship is what ye want, 'tis what I will give ye." That admission pained him, but it was true.

"Aye."

One single word. But it was enough. He did not need more. "My lady, I believe we will have some planning in our near future on how we shall convince everyone we are a love match. But for now, I think we should return inside and request a private audience with your cousin. What say ye? Shall we tell all those rabid men awaiting ye that they shall take their leave?"

She smiled. A genuine smile that lit up her face and chased the clouds from her eyes. He got the feeling that Willamina Watson had not had the happiest life until now. He vowed that though their marriage was on paper only, he would do everything in his power to ensure her happiness.

He could not believe he was thinking the thoughts he was. He was excited that she had agreed. He found himself looking forward to the days they would spend together. The realization that he had actually fallen for this woman and that he had managed to convince her to marry him was not lost on him.

He could only hope that in time, their relationship may bloom and blossom into something wonderful.

And mayhap, just mayhap, one day she would see him as more than just an escape.