Virginia Heath - Miss Bradshaw's Bought Betrothal

‘That is none of your business, sir!’

‘So you are obscenely rich.’ He calmly popped another piece of bacon into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. ‘You must be scraping the bottom of the matrimonial barrel to have agreed to marry him.’

The man was insufferable. Fortunately, Aunt Winnie was never short for words.

‘You are a very rude man, Lord Finnegan.’

‘I agree.’ Was that really the best set-down she could manage? Evie had promised herself that she was not going to be a doormat any more and as this man was unspeakably rude, it could hardly hurt to practise the new Evie on him. ‘And I do not need to sit here and listen to your insults.’ At least that sounded more assertive although saying it aloud had now terrified her.

He shrugged and munched more bacon. ‘You are quite right, Miss Bradshaw. Should you wish to leave this house immediately, I would completely understand.’

Her lush mouth hung slack again and Finn felt a stab of guilt for being so obnoxious. It was hardly the poor girl’s fault that his brother was a scoundrel and that he was a miserable curmudgeon who would rather be left alone than suffer company of any sort. With a sigh of resignation, he put down his fork.

‘I am sorry, Miss Bradshaw, my rudeness was uncalled for. It has been some time since I have entertained guests and I am out of practice.’ He offered her his best approximation of a smile by way of an apology, although he doubted that it looked like one. Smiling was not something he had much call to do any longer. Besides, it would feel much better to take out his anger on his brother. And his brother would get both barrels. ‘What time will Fergus be returning?’

She worried her bottom lip, drawing his attention to it. She really did have a very diverting mouth. ‘I am not altogether sure. We had made no firm plans.’

Well, that was odd. But then again everything about Fergus’s engagement struck Finn as odd. The oddest part was his unexpected choice of fiancé. He might not have a great deal to do with his brother, but he knew him inside and out. If Fergus was going to take a bride, and that was a very big if indeed when one considered his lifestyle choices, then it would be a lady who was more ornament than actual woman. A stickler for the latest fashions, Fergus would never condone the drab, shapeless dress Miss Bradshaw was wearing. Finn was no expert on ladies’ fashion, but from neck to hem that gown was a disaster. Why the woman would want to disguise the shapely figure he had seen was a mystery to him. The yards of unnecessary fabric formed one solid, shapeless block that did nothing for her. Nor did the severe hairstyle. The lovely thick, chestnut hair he had seen shimmering in the firelight was so ruthlessly styled that it had lost all of its lustre. If ever anyone was hiding their light under a bushel, it was Miss Bradshaw.

‘Never mind. If he fails to materialise any time soon, I shall take myself to the inn later and speak to him.’ There were a great many things that Finn had waited three years to say. None of them was pleasant.

This statement appeared to fluster her. ‘As I suspect it might take him several hours to materialise after he lied to me last night, I should like to accompany you, sir.’ He was sir now, he noted the censure in her voice, but she stuck out her chin proudly even though her expression suggested she would likely bolt at any moment, given half a chance.

It was on the tip of Finn’s tongue to tell her to get used to it. Fergus was a consummate liar. It was one of the few things his twin excelled at. But he stopped himself. If she was not aware of that fact already, she would come to know it soon enough without his help. Instead he nodded and took a swig of his coffee.

‘Before we leave, it is only right and proper that I introduce myself to your wife.’

Finn nearly choked. Just the mention of Olivia brought it all crashing back when he preferred to remain numb.

‘Where might I find her?’

‘Where she always is.’ Finn stood and ruthlessly quashed all of the unwelcome emotions that swirled in his gut. ‘In the cemetery.’

Chapter Three

By late afternoon, it had become apparent that Fergus had no immediate intention of visiting Evie at all. She was desperate to track him down at the inn and ask him what he thought he was about or what he intended to do about the awkward situation he had placed her in. But after spectacularly putting her foot in it with his brother, she was reluctant to seek the man out so that they could go visit her fiancé together. She had not seen hide nor hair of the other Matlock since breakfast, when he had marched out of the breakfast room with a face like thunder and slammed the door behind him.

No doubt her crass mentioning of his wife had upset him and for that she felt horribly guilty, even though she found the man himself most disagreeable. Evie absolutely hated hurting another’s feelings. It went completely against her nature. Her own were hurt so often that she knew very well how awful it felt and would never intentionally do something like that, even to a nasty piece of work like Finnegan Matlock. It was yet another thing she intended to take Fergus to task for when he finally deigned to make an appearance. It was bad enough pretending that your brother’s house was yours, but to neglect to tell your fiancée that your twin brother was also a recent widower was unforgivable.

‘Would you like some more tea, Miss Bradshaw?’ a maid asked politely and Evie shook her head.

‘No, thank you.’ Already she was positively swimming in the stuff. Another cup might well cause it to seep out of her ears. ‘Do you know where I can find Lord Finnegan?’ Sitting around and waiting for one of the Matlock brothers to come to her was becoming very tiresome. Even Aunt Winnie had given up and taken herself off for an afternoon nap.

‘I have no idea, miss. Lord Finnegan went out hours ago. He tends to come and go as he pleases so I could not hazard a guess as to when he will return.’ The maid bobbed a curtsy and scurried away, leaving alone Evie to wait some more.

This was ridiculous.

She had come to Yorkshire to escape having her life controlled by others, to climb out of her suffocating chrysalis and breathe, not to allow two obnoxious men to step into Hyacinth’s shoes and force her to dance to their tune. If Fergus was too cowardly to face her here, then she would go and track him down herself. She was the new Evie Bradshaw after all, no longer a convenient doormat, and she was intending to be more fearless and independent. Feeling suddenly decisive, she stood and went off in search of the stables. She would avail herself of Lord Finnegan’s carriage and take herself to the inn.

But there was no carriage in the stables. Lord Finnegan, she was reliably informed, had no use for one. They would, however, saddle a horse for her should she require one or she could walk the two miles to the village seeing as it was a lovely day. As there was no way Evie was going to climb on to the back of a horse, she set off across the pretty meadow in the direction that had been pointed, ignoring the early summer heat and the inappropriateness of her footwear. Half a mile on and her thin slippers began to rub and Evie found herself becoming quite hot in the long-sleeved dress she had stupidly chosen to wear. Far off in the distance she could just about make out the spire of a church nestled amongst the gently rolling hills, which meant that she probably still had a good thirty minutes of walking ahead of her. Thirty more minutes of perspiration and foot pain.

With a sigh she flopped down into the grass. Perhaps going off to visit Fergus alone was not such a good idea. She would probably lose her nerve the moment she laid eyes on him, anyway, and any reprimand would come out sounding squeaky and pathetic. She should probably just return to the house.