Willow smiled. “If you must know, I imagined you with crooked fangs, actually.”
He laughed, flashing them a peek at straight white teeth. “I will take that over horns any day.”
“Forgive me, Lord Jonathan, but I thought you were on tour? Have you returned recently?”
“If you mean a tour of all the best—”
“Jonathan,” Ambrose growled, and his brother laughed.
“Never mind,” Jonathan said, casting a quick glance at him before returning his attention to Willow. “Though I must admit, I was intrigued to hear the details of my brother’s wedding. A few interesting events to note, certainly.”
“Really? I thought very little of it would come as a surprise, given your father’s will. Surely such a situation breeds of chaos.”
“I—” Jonathan began to reply, but Ambrose cut him off.
“You know about the clause,” Ambrose demanded, staring at his wife.
“Yes,” she answered. “I’ve heard all about your father’s will. I must admit, it was quite a shocking discovery.”
Ambrose felt the blood leave his body. But for his mother, brother, and solicitor, no one was ever supposed to know about that. It was damned embarrassing. “Who told you?”
“It hardly matters where I heard it, only that I did,” she glanced at him sideways. “It does explain some of your surly moods. Not to mention your methods in courting my sister.”
Jonathan laughed, plopping himself down in a chair. “She is a resourceful one, brother, I am pleased to discover.”
“That she is,” Ambrose muttered, sweeping the room with a glance. “It appears she even has the servants wrapped around her finger.”
Willow turned to him, her eyes startlingly blue, even in the candlelight. “So it’s true, then? You married because of a clause in your father’s will?”
What else could he do but nod? The truth was out, there was nothing to do but move on.
“Why, then, did you wait so long to secure a wife?” she asked. “It seemed like something you ought to have done sooner.”
“My brother did his damndest to find a loophole,” Jonathan interrupted before Ambrose could speak. “But as you are well aware, he failed.”
Ambrose sent his brother a stony look, and when he spoke, there was an edge of impatience to his voice. “Thank you for pointing out my failure.”
“A pleasure.” Jonathan winked at Willow. “Except I would not call securing such a lovely wife a failure.”
“I think it’s about time you leave,” Ambrose all but growled at his brother, who remained stubbornly seated on his arse.
“Wait a minute,” his wife spoke up, puzzled. Ambrose grimaced at the open curiosity in her voice. “Why did your father put such a clause in his will? It seems a bit cruel.”
“It bloody well was,” Ambrose growled.
At that, his wife narrowed her eyes on him. “What did you do?”
“What makes you assume I did anything?” He demanded, offended.
“The clause,” she said meeting his gaze. “You must have done something for your father to add such a thing.”
Right.
“Oh, he did,” Jonathan piped up from where he sat.
Ambrose shot him a glare.
“Well?” she pressed. “Are you going to tell me or not?”
