Horrified and mortified in equal measure, Evie stared back at her toast and tried to think of a pithy retort. As usual, none came so she sat silently and wished she really was invisible as she squirmed under the intensity of his gaze.
‘Tell me how you came to be engaged to my feckless brother.’
Evie focused every bit of her attention on the rapidly cooling and unappealing piece of toast and trotted out her practised line. ‘We collided at various functions last year, found that we rubbed along well enough and, after a few months, he proposed.’ The story was purposefully short and dull because that was easier. Besides, everyone expected Evie to be dull so few asked for further clarification. Lord Finnegan tilted his head to one side and simply stared.
‘Are you sure?’
Nobody had ever queried the tale before and it flustered her. ‘Well, of course I am sure. Do you think that I would make something like that up?’ Already her palms were moist and her heart was racing guiltily. No doubt her neck was already blooming in unbecoming pink blotches. She never had been a particularly convincing liar.
‘To be perfectly frank, Miss Bradshaw, I have no idea. You completely bewilder me. You are definitely not Fergus’s usual type and the brother I know is about as likely to settle down into marriage of any sort as I am to suddenly sprout wings and soar majestically through the clouds.’
‘You, yourself, said that you had not seen your brother in three years. People can change a great deal in three years.’
He snorted his disbelief. ‘The sort of change you are suggesting would take a miracle to achieve. Fergus likes to drink, gamble and whore. You do not strike me as a woman who fits any of those criteria. That leads me to believe that there is only one reason why he is marrying you and that reason has to be money. Are you obscenely rich, Miss Bradshaw?’
Her mouth hung slack. Had he just used the word whore in front of a lady? And more importantly, he had just insulted her in the most horrendous manner. Nobody had ever spoken to her quite like that, apart from Hyacinth. Evie’s gaze flicked to the fork lying on the table to her left and for a moment she considered picking it up and using it as a weapon. Perhaps Lord Finnegan’s manners would improve if he suddenly found himself with a piece of cutlery embedded in his hand. Or his forehead.
‘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.’
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