~Title: When William Met Elizabeth

~Author: LuckyStarz

~Email: PunkPrincess41@insightbb.com

~Disclaimer: Nothing from the Buffyverse belongs to me. I’m just a poor high school student with a lot of free time and a very creative imagination! :)

~Summary: AU. Set sometime in the 1800’s. Buffy wakes up on her 19th birthday to find that she is betrothed to a Count in England, who only wants to marry her so he can inherit his father’s fortune.

~Pairings: Buffy/Spike, Xander/Anya

~Category: Romance/General

~Spoilers: None

~Rating: PG-13

~A/N: A little background info: Buffy and her parents used to live in London (although they’re not British). They weren’t royalty, but they were upper-class. Buffy’s father, Hank, was good friends with Count Charles Edmonton, father of William Edmonton. When Hank died (Buffy was five), Joyce decided to move Buffy to America because living in England was too painful for her.
Also, for those not key to the times, consumption is what they used to call Tuberculosis.
I think that about sums it up, but just keep all that in mind when reading this! And as always, reviews are cherished!!
P.S. Eva you’re the best!!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

~Chapter One: A Surprise Brithday~

Sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a beam of light on the small bed. Beneath the sheets, Elizabeth Anne Summers rolled over and stretched. Groggily, she opened her eyes and smiled. Today was a special day for her.

“Buffy! Are you up yet?” Joyce Summers called from down the hall.

“Yeah, Mom! Be right there!” Buffy shouted back as she slipped off the bed. She walked to the window and pushed it open, allowing a faint breeze to blow in. Then she moved to her washbasin and washed her face. Next to the basin was a small table where Buffy kept most of her belongings. She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair a few times before tying it back with a white ribbon. Then she snatched her mirror and glanced at her reflection, making a face as she did so. Finally, she grabbed her favorite blue dress, changed out of her nightgown, and headed down the hall toward the kitchen.

Joyce stood over the small wood stove, busily frying up eggs. As Buffy entered the room, she turned and smiled. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Buffy hugged her mother. “Morning.” She glanced at the stove and raised a brow. “Eggs? How come I rate egg treatment?” she asked innocently.

Joyce swatted her on the arm. “Hush. You know perfectly well this is an annual tradition of ours.”

Grinning, Buffy took a seat at the tiny table in the center of the room. “Ah yes, the celebratory morning breakfast of the birthday girl.”

“But of course,” Joyce replied in her best French accent. She finished cooking and brought a steaming plate of eggs to the table. “Happy birthday, Buffy.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Buffy said as she grabbed one.

Joyce smiled and took the seat opposite of her daughter. As she watched Buffy eat, she felt the familiar pride glowing in her cheeks.

They had come so far in the last nineteen years. The move from England had been incredibly difficult. Leaving behind everything they had known and loved, all to start a new life here in America. Sometimes she missed it, her old life back in London. Things were familiar there. But then she looked at Buffy, and she knew it had all been worth it.

“Would you stop staring at me and eat?” Buffy said, glancing at her mother over a forkful of egg.

“I made them for *you*,” Joyce protested.

“Well, I can’t eat twelve eggs all by myself,” Buffy insisted, pushing the plate towards her, “so you get to help me.”

Sighing, Joyce took an egg and began to eat. “Happy?” she asked.

Buffy smiled triumphantly. “Yes.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Later that day, Joyce received an interesting letter all the way from England. Her mouth dropped open as she read the name of the sender: Countess Rebecca Edmonton.

“Buffy!” she called. “Can you run into the market?”

“But, Mom, it’s my birthday!” Buffy whined.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joyce replied apologetically. Her eyes suddenly brightened. “But I forgot to give you your present.” She snatched her purse and dug out a few crisp dollar bills. “Go into town and get yourself something.”

Without waiting for further incentive, Buffy grabbed the money and hurried out the door.

After she had gone, Joyce sat down at the kitchen table and opened the letter. In a delicate, flowy penmanship, it read:

Joyce,

It’s been some time since we’ve spoken, and I imagine this letter comes as quite a shock to you. I know it must be a bit painful to hear from me again, but there’s a few things you need to know.

First, I believe, would be the terrible news that my Charles has passed away. He was suffering from consumption and died just shy of William’s twenty-fourth birthday.

Second, is the actual reason for this letter. While going through Charles’ things, I found a betrothal contract signed by both our husbands. It appears their last wishes were for our children’s hands to be joined in marriage. And, although I didn’t know about the contract, I do believe this is the right thing to do.

Finally, I would just like to say that I know you left London because of Hank’s death, but despite that, I hope you can forget the past. Our children have known each other for so long, and I know that William can make Elizabeth happy.

You needn’t worry about a thing either. I have it all worked out, and if you decide to honor our husband’s last wishes, a boat will be arriving in four days to bring Elizabeth here. All you must do is make sure she boards that ship. Of course, you are also always welcome here, even for a short visit.

I know we haven’t spoken in such a long time, but I really have missed you, Joyce. I hope that you can find a way to push past the pain so that our children can be happy.

Sincerely yours,

Rebecca

Joyce read the letter over and over, trying to decide what to do. She had never expected to go back to England. Part of her didn’t want to. She had been running from so many things for so long. But the other part of her was dying to go back. She hadn’t seen Rebecca in fourteen years, and they had been the closest of friends. Besides, she couldn’t really deny her beloved husband his last wish, could she?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“I’m home!” Buffy called cheerily as she stepped inside the house. Draped carefully over her arm was a long, black velvet dress. It had cost a little more than what her mother had given her, but Buffy had luckily saved up some of her own money helping Joyce mend gowns and had been able to afford it.

“In here!” Joyce called, poking her head out from Buffy’s room.

“I found the most beautiful dress,” Buffy squealed excitedly, rushing down the hall to her room. “I had to use a little of my...” she trailed off as her eyes came to rest on the open suitcase lying on her bed. “What’re you doing?”

“Packing your things,” Joyce said simply as she tossed Buffy’s clothes onto the bed.

Buffy waited, expecting her mother to elaborate, but Joyce said nothing more. “Why are you packing my things?” she asked finally.

Taking a deep breath, Joyce turned around. “I think you’d better sit down,” she said, motioning to the bed. “There’s a lot I have to tell you.”

Warily, Buffy did as she was told. She didn’t like the nervous look her mother wore; it made her palms sweat.

Joyce came to the bed and sat down beside her daughter. Lightly she took her hand, ignoring the cool moistness of it. “We’re going back to London,” she stated firmly.

Buffy’s eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. “What? Why?”

“Buffy, there’s a lot to explain, so just listen for a while, okay?” At her daughter’s affirmative nod, Joyce continued. “You remember how close your father and I were with the Edmontons? Well, before he died, your father and Count Edmonton made an agreement. They both cared about you and William so much, they wanted you to always be together, so...they had you betrothed.”

“They had us *what*?” Buffy shouted.

Joyce flinched a little. “I didn’t know, Buffy. Your father and Count Edmonton never told anyone.”

“Then how did you find out?”

“I received a letter today from Countess Rebecca Edmonton. It seems her husband passed away just this last year, and while she was going through his things, she found the betrothal.”

“So you just decided to pack up my things and ship me off to England?” Buffy cried angrily.

Joyce frowned. “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I am your mother and I know what’s best for you.” She sighed heavily. “Buffy, it was your father’s last wish to see you married to William. I just can’t deny him that. Besides, you’re nineteen now. Most women your age are already married. It’s time you settled down and raised a family.”

Buffy snorted. “What if I don’t want a family?”

“I’m sorry, Buffy, but I’ve made up my mind,” Joyce said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re going back to London. It’s time for you to grow up and live your own life.”

“Why can’t I live my own life in America?”

Joyce lowered her head. “You don’t want this life,” she said quietly. “Do you know how hard I have to work just to keep food on the table? I mean, your father left us money, but most of it was spent getting here and building this house.”

“I can work,” Buffy pleaded. “I-I can work full-time. I’ll get my own job and my own house, then you won’t have to worry about me.”

“It was so hard to watch him die,” Joyce whispered, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Just watching his life drain away. It was so frustrating not to be able to do anything. Especially with you there,” she paused and smiled wistfully at her daughter. “You were so young.” She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “Afterward, I told myself that I could take care of you. I didn’t need Hank there with me, helping me raise you. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. So I left. Rebecca begged me not to go. She wanted me to stay with her and Charles, but I needed to be strong for you.”

Buffy smiled softly, placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “You were strong. You made it all the way here and you raised me all by yourself. You did it.”

Joyce cupped her daughter’s cheek, and a tear fell from her eye. “You turned out so beautiful.” She wiped the tear away and sighed. “I’ve spent too many years running away from my past, Buffy. I need to go back there and face my fears.”

“You’re afraid of being without Dad, aren’t you?” Buffy asked gently.

Joyce shook her head. “At first I thought that’s what I was afraid of, but as the years went by, I realized I could make it on my own. I had you to keep me strong.”

Buffy looked confused. “So…what are you afraid of then?”

“I’m afraid to let you go,” Joyce replied. “It killed me to watch your father die. I don’t want you to go through that kind of pain. Unfortunately, there’s no way around it. People aren’t immortal. I can’t protect you from the inevitable, and I would rather see you married to a man who can make you happy than an idiot who doesn’t even care about you. You’ve known William since you were born, and I know he’ll be good to you.” She smiled and took her daughter’s hand. “He’ll make you a good husband, Buffy. I know he will. You just have to give him a chance.”

Despite the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, Buffy nodded slowly.

Joyce beamed and wrapped her in a fierce hug. “Thank you.” She got up, wiping the backs of her hands furiously across her cheeks and left the room.

When she was gone, Buffy sighed and looked at her half packed suitcase. “I’ll give him a chance, but I’m not promising to like him,” she said quietly.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

TBC.....

~Chapter Two: Home Sweet Home~

Land was in sight, and Buffy heaved a sigh of relief. She had never thought she’d be so happy to see England, yet here she was, thanking the Lord silently that she was here. Of course, that was mainly due to the fact that she had gotten seasick on the way over.

As the ship sailed into the harbor, she gripped the railing tighter and looked out at her new home. Well, technically it was her old home, but she had been too young to remember much about it.

There was a thick fog lying heavily over everything, giving the city a gloomy and destitute appearance. Pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages crowded the cobbled streets. Large mansions loomed overhead, and Buffy shrank backward a bit, feeling somewhat inferior.

“It’s big, isn’t it?” Joyce said from behind her.

Buffy could only nod as words somehow failed her.

Joyce looked down at her and caught the terror in Buffy’s eyes. She placed a hand comfortingly on her daughter’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it soon, honey. It’s not so bad.”

Remembering the promise she’d made to give London a chance, Buffy forced herself to smile.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Once the ship was docked, she and Joyce headed down into the mass of people on the street. They stood amid happy families and tear-filled reunions, completely overwhelmed by it all. There were more people scrunched together on the tiny dock than Buffy had ever seen in her entire life! She felt the dread in the pit of her stomach grow rapidly into panic, and instinctively, she scooted closer to her mother.

“She told me she’d be here,” Joyce mumbled, craning her neck to see over the crowd.

As the last word fell from her lips, a tall woman with white-blonde hair made her way through the mob toward them. She wore a long, pale yellow dress that fit snug around her tiny waist and fell in a large bell over her hips. Around her shoulders was a lace shawl, matching the strip of lace circling the waist of the gown. On top of her head was a yellow bonnet with a single daisy in the center. She carried herself with an air of importance and class, and Buffy could only guess that this was the infamous Rebecca Edmonton.

“Joyce!” the woman cried, rushing forward with arms outstretched.

“Rebecca! Oh, it’s been so long!” Joyce replied, throwing her arms around the other woman.

Buffy watched the two old friends embrace with a certain measure of distaste. She found herself feeling oddly hostile toward this woman for bringing her and her mother here to London. She did not want to play the dutiful daughter and smile and be polite. But a promise was a promise, so she gritted her teeth and pasted a smile on her face as the two pulled apart.

“This must be Elizabeth,” Rebecca said, turning to face Buffy. “My, how you’ve grown! The last time I saw you, you were barely up to my waist!”

“Well, she’s grown into quite the young lady,” Joyce stated proudly.

“I see that,” Rebecca replied approvingly, looking Buffy up and down. She smiled kindly. “It’s good to see you, Elizabeth.”

Buffy nodded. “Likewise, I’m sure.” She almost felt guilty for hating Rebecca. The woman seemed very friendly and genuine, but she *was* the reason Buffy and her mother had packed up and left their old lives behind. If it wasn’t for her, none of this would have happened.

Rebecca linked her arm through Joyce’s. “We should really be heading back. So much to see, so little time. Don’t worry about those, dear,” she said as Buffy bent to pick up her bag. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t come without an escort. These silly men think women aren’t capable of taking care of themselves. They send someone with me wherever I go; it’s a terrible hassle.” Her voice brightened. “Luckily, they are a bit handy with the carrying of heavy luggage. Rupert should be waiting at the end of the docks. I’ll just tell him to pick up your things and bring them to the estate.”

Before she could reply, Rebecca latched onto Buffy’s arm and began to pull her through the throng of people. Struggling to keep up, Buffy wove through the mass, bumping into people and marveling at how anyone in the world could stand to live in such a crowded place. She hadn’t even been there a day and already she was sick of it!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

By the time they reached the end of the docks, the crowd had thankfully dispersed. Looking around, Buffy spotted a tall man dressed completely in tweed leaning idly against a post. He looked only slightly older than her mother, with thinning brown hair and kind gray eyes hidden behind a small pair of spectacles. As they approached, he straightened and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling upward.

“Hello, all,” he greeted.

“Rupert, this is Joyce Summers and her daughter, Elizabeth,” Rebecca introduced. “Joyce, Elizabeth, this is Rupert Giles.”

Rupert extended his hand in welcome. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Rupert is a close friend of ours. He used to be the curator at the British Museum, but now he mostly does odd jobs around the manor for me. As he put it, I pay better than the stuffy old men who run the museum.” She smiled affectionately at him. “By the way, would you mind grabbing our guests’ luggage?”

“Not at all.” He tipped his head at them and headed back to grab their bags. “Lovely to have met you both,” he said over his shoulder.

“Come now,” Rebecca urged as she again pulled them along, “it isn’t far to the manor. Oh, you’ll just love it, Elizabeth!”

Buffy was only half listening to Rebecca’s prattle. Most of her attention was fixed on the great stone castles they passed as they walked along the street. She wondered what this manor Rebecca kept talking about looked like, and if it was anything like the ones she was seeing, she was sure to get lost inside.

Suddenly, Rebecca stopped. “Elizabeth,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement, “welcome to your new home!” She stepped aside and waved an arm in front of her, indicating the large, white stone manor ahead.

Buffy’s jaw dropped. The estate before her was easily one of the biggest she had seen while passing through London. Four white marble pillars held up the roof, giving the mansion a classic, elegant look. Twirling around the pillars were long vines of ivy. Several large French windows were open, the curtains on the inside softly flowing in the breeze. Huge trees dotted the landscape here and there, and in the back she could just make out a lavish garden. A cobblestone walkway led up to the marble steps of the manor and circled back around the entire building.

It was the most beautiful house she had ever seen!

“Do you like it?” Joyce asked.

“It-it’s gorgeous!” Buffy breathed in awe.

“Marvelous!” Rebecca cried, clapping her hands happily. “Let’s go in, shall we? There’s much more to see on the inside.”

“More?” Buffy murmured as she allowed herself to be dragged up the stairs and into the estate.

Rebecca was quite right. Inside the manor was even more beautiful. The walls were bright white stone, covered with colorful paintings and murals. Oriental rugs lay sprawled beneath large mahogany tables, partially hiding the smooth gray marble of the floor. Potted plants sat everywhere, some on the tables, others in big limestone urns. A few ivory statues (mostly Greek gods and goddesses) rested in the corners. Gray velvet drapes hung from the pair of French windows which looked out into the front of the estate. A marble fountain sat in the center of the room, spurting streams of water into the air. Above them, a crystal chandelier with ten candles dangled from the ceiling. The light from the candles reflected off the crystal and made the room sparkle. Finally, at the end of the room, a long marble staircase led to the second story.

“Would you like to see your room?” Rebecca asked.

Buffy nodded, not really hearing what Rebecca had said. Her mouth hung open in shock and amazement, and it was all she could do to pull herself away and follow her mother and Rebecca up the stairs.

“We decided to give you the gold room,” Rebecca told them as they walked down the hallway. “It’s right next to William’s, and there’s an adjoining door that separates the two. Your room is the second biggest bedroom in the manor, William’s of course being the first.” She opened the door and stepped aside for Buffy and Joyce to go in.

For the millionth time that day, Buffy found herself amazed. The room was done entirely in shades of gold. Candles were scattered everywhere, their light making the room appear to shimmer. The large four-poster bed had sheer drapes, a velvet comforter, and silk sheets beneath. Long satin curtains covering the French windows hung all the way to the floor. There were two mahogany dressers as well, one against the wall opposite the bed, the other next to the window. The adjoining bathroom had an ivory bathtub and sink and also a marble floor. There were other things strewn about the room as well: a small settee, a desk, and a mirror, which hung over the dresser opposite the bed.

Buffy looked around her, mesmerized. She started suddenly as the sound of a dinner bell was heard from downstairs.

“It appears William will have to continue this tour some other time. Dinner is ready,” Rebecca said as she headed out the door.

“William?” Buffy repeated, a slight waver of panic in her voice. “Why can’t *you* show me the rest?”

Rebecca smiled kindly at her. “I’m afraid I won’t be here. You see, this was only my manor until my son found a bride. It belongs to the Count and his family, and as my husband has passed that title to William, I’m moving out into the guest house.” She noticed the fear in Buffy’s eyes and said reassuringly, “You can come visit if you’d like. It’s less than a block away and only slightly less extravagant.”

Joyce giggled. “Your husband sure knew how to spoil you.”

“But...” Buffy started to protest, but neither of them were listening to her. They had linked arms again and were skipping merrily down the hall toward the stairs. Sighing heavily, Buffy started to follow them, casting a wary eye on the door that joined her bedroom with William’s.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“A tour is it?” William asked as he stepped out of the dining area.

“Yes. She’s very nervous. I think if you took her on a tour, got to know her a bit, she’d feel more comfortable around you,” Rebecca answered.

William crossed his arms over his chest. “Why’s she so nervous? We know each other.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes at him. “She hasn’t seen you in fourteen years, William! That’s bound to make anyone a little apprehensive. Not to mention she’s being thrown into this relationship against her will...”

“And I’m not?” William asked incredulously. “You know, ‘s not like I wanted any of this.”

“I know,” his mother said softly. “But your father was a good man, and I really think Elizabeth will be good for you.”

He snorted. “We’ll see ‘bout that.”

“Look, I know you don’t want to marry her, but if you want what’s coming to you, there’s no other way. Get to know her. Maybe you’ll find this whole marriage deal isn’t as bad as you think,” Rebecca said with a smirk.

“Fine,” William finally grumbled, tired of arguing with his mother. “I’ll take the bint for a lovely stroll round the manor. Will that make you happy?”

She thought for a moment. “It’s a start,” she said and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Joyce poked her head out from the kitchen. “Are we ready?”

“Yes, I do believe we are,” Rebecca replied.

The two old friends headed toward the door, leaving William to face his bride-to-be.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

TBC....

~Chapter Three: Day One (New Friends and New Enemies)~

Buffy sat at the huge mahogany table the next day, staring blankly down at its shiny surface. She had just been informed that her mother would not be staying in the manor with her and William. Joyce would instead be living with Rebecca in the guest house, leaving Buffy all alone with a man she had known since she was born, yet remembered nothing of.

The worst part, however, was that she only had three days before the wedding. That was barely enough time to get settled in, let alone reacquaint herself with her fiancé. Everything was just moving too fast.

Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but she held them in check. She was an adult now, as her mother had firmly stated earlier, and she had to handle this situation like an adult.

Pushing away from the table, Buffy slowly stood and turned around. Her hand flew to her heart, and she gasped at the sight of a dark figure leaning against the door frame. As he stepped further into the room, she glared and tried to steady her erratic heartbeat. “Don’t do that!” she screeched.

William grinned broadly. “Sorry, luv. Couldn’t help myself.”

She dropped her hand to her side and smoothed her dress. “What do you want?”

“Came by to see if you wanted that tour,” he replied casually.

Eyeing him skeptically, Buffy said curtly, “I suppose.”

He nodded and held out his arm to her. “Right then, off we go.”

Buffy snorted at his offered arm and brushed past him.

Chuckling softly to himself, William followed her into the foyer and proceeded to guide her through his home. They walked in silence, giving each other occasional sidelong glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Buffy was surprised to find that William was quite striking. He stood a couple inches taller than her with short, white-blonde hair like his mother’s, razor-sharp cheekbones, full, sensuous lips, and startling bright blue eyes. His body, encased in tight black pants, a white collared shirt, and a black overcoat, seemed completely made of muscle. She watched the muscles of his back and shoulders stretch the fabric of the coat as he walked and absently wondered what he would look like without the coat. Then, while heat filled her cheeks, she chided herself for such inappropriate thoughts.

William was equally surprised as he stole quick glimpses of his bride. Her hair was long and golden, twirled up on her head in a delicate fashion, with curly tendrils framing her face. Hazel eyes that flickered from green to gold stared at him with a mix of indifference and wonder. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line, her cheeks slightly stained pink. The dress she wore was modest, clinging to her tiny waist, yet not showing very much skin. She looked very petite, even through the layers of petticoats. He was somewhat pleased, though the prospect of marrying her still angered him.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

They stopped outside William’s room, the last destination on the tour. He had decided to save this for last, since it would come to be the most intimate of all. In three days, they would consummate their marriage in this room, producing the male heir that he needed to inherit his father’s fortune. Afterward, there would be no reason for her to come in again.

‘Unless....’ he thought with a fleeting smile.

“This must be your room,” Buffy said as she stepped inside.

The room was spacious and dark, the black curtains keeping out most of the sun. The walls were painted blood red, contrasting beautifully with the rest of the black decor. A large, comfortable looking armchair lounged in the corner of the room. Two ebony dressers rested against the walls, and a small ebony table sat beside the huge four-poster bed. Across from the bed was a door, which Buffy found led straight into her own room.

‘Well, at least I can escape easily,’ she thought.

William watched her for a while as she moved about the room before pulling out his pocket watch and glancing at the time. He cleared his throat and stuck it back in his pocket. “Well, this concludes our tour, and I’m afraid I’m late. I’ll see you at dinner.” He gave a slight bow and left the room.

Buffy sighed and opened the door to her room. Shutting it softly behind her, she flopped down on the bed. She was suddenly feeling very tired and decided a good rest would do her a world of good.

Just as she was drifting to sleep, a soft knock sounded on her door. She groaned loudly and rolled off the bed, smoothing her dress as she walked to the door. When she opened it, a small girl about her age smiled at her brightly.

“Hello, Ms. Summers,” the girl said cheerily. “I’m Willow.”

“Um, hi, Willow,” Buffy said, a bit confused.

Willow looked disappointed for a second as she asked, “Didn’t Count William tell you about me?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I’m afraid he didn’t.”

“Well, no matter,” Willow said happily. “I’m going to be your personal servant.” Seeing Buffy’s blank look, she elaborated, “Basically I’ll be helping you adjust. My job is to do whatever you ask me to. I can draw your bath, help you get ready for special events, clean the room, stuff like that.”

A relieved smile formed on Buffy’s lips. “Well, in that case,” she said, waving Willow inside, “I’m *very* happy to see you, and please, call me Buffy.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“So, this bride-to-be, when do we get to meet her?”

“Tonight,” William replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You are coming to dinner, aren’t you, Harris?”

Alexander Harris smiled. “Yes, don’t worry. Anya and I wouldn’t leave you all alone at the dinner table with a beautiful woman.”

“How do you know she’s beautiful?”

Xander raised an eyebrow at his friend.

William ducked his head sheepishly and mumbled, “Mentioned that, did I?”

Clearing his throat to cover his laughter, Xander motioned toward the table of papers. “What’s this mess?”

“This ‘mess’ is all the papers concerning my land,” William replied, grinding out the cigarette.

Xander waited for a further explanation but got none as William was too engrossed in the papers before him. “So, what’s the what? Why is this big mess of papers so important?”

“As you know, my land overlaps with Angel’s. These papers are the details of boundaries between the two properties. Angel wants to make me an offer for the land.”

“Never did like that guy,” Xander griped. “Hey, wait a second! You’re not thinking of selling your father’s land, are you? Your mother would kill you!”

“I know,” William mumbled.

Visibly relaxing, Xander said, “So, again I ask, what’s with the mess? If you’re not thinking of selling...”

“I don’t think he’ll take no for an answer,” William said quickly. “From what he’s told me, he’s been wanting this land for years now. He tried making negotiations with my father but couldn’t get him to budge. Pretty soon I think he’ll be tired of the peaceful offerings.”

“What do you think he’ll do?” Xander asked nervously.

William shook his head. “Not sure. Wouldn’t put anything past him, though.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Can you keep an eye on him? Got a feeling he’ll do just ‘bout anything to get my land.”

“Can do,” Xander replied, moving toward the door. “I’ll see you in an hour for dinner.” He turned back around, a tiny bit of worry etched on his face. “You’re not inviting Drusilla, are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” William asked, not looking up from his papers. “She’s attended dinner with us before.”

“Yeah, but...your wife...” Xander said, trying to make his point clear, but failing.

William waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll have to meet Drusilla sooner or later. I’d rather it be *before* the wedding, thank you very much. And she’s not my wife yet.”

Xander shook his head as he headed out the door. “You’re a brave man, Will.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“So you and your mother just picked up and left?” Willow asked, her emerald eyes wide.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to,” Buffy said sadly. “I mean, London’s okay. It’s just...lonely, you know?”

Willow nodded. “I guess it would be, although I wouldn’t know first hand. I was born here. My father was from America, but my mother hailed from London. They didn’t actually mean to have me.” She forced a smile to cover the obvious hurt in her tone. “I was the product of a one-night stand. My mother said she never regretted it though.”

“I was born here, too,” Buffy said. “My father and William’s were very good friends. They decided to have us betrothed, I guess so they could somehow keep their friendship alive through us or something like that. When my father died, I was just five years old. My mother decided to move to America because life here in England was too painful for her. I don’t really remember anything about it.”

“Wow. It must have been scary coming here not knowing anything or anybody,” Willow remarked sympathetically.

“Kinda funny how fourteen years in the States completely rid my mother of her British accent though,” Buffy said, giggling.

Willow laughed along with her but abruptly stopped and grabbed her hand. “Oh my gosh! I almost completely forgot about dinner tonight! We have to get you ready or you’ll be late!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Half an hour later, Buffy and Willow came down the stairs. Willow was flushed and nervous, not wanting to make William angry at their tardiness. Buffy was just a bundle of nerves, having never attended a formal dinner in her entire life. Willow had coached her on what to do, but she was afraid that as soon as she sat down, all that preparation would just go poof!

As they entered the dining area, Willow scurried to William’s chair and apologized. Buffy stood at the entryway, staring at the three new faces seated at the table. She smiled shyly at them, unsure what to do now that Willow wasn’t there *telling* her what to do.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Red,” William said softly, using the nickname he had given the girl.

Hearing him call her “Red” immediately set Willow’s mind at ease. She knew he would never punish her for anything, but she still didn’t want that scolding she sometimes got when she did things she wasn’t supposed to. Fortunately, William’s idea of scolding was very mild, usually followed by a sigh and a quick smile. With a nod and a swift glance at Buffy, she disappeared into the kitchen.

William stood and strode to where Buffy stood frozen in the doorway. He could see the look of panic in her eyes and smiled down at her. “Nervous, pet?”

She nodded frantically. “Do I have to do this?” she whispered.

He chuckled. “‘M afraid so, luv. No way you’ll be able to get out of this one.” He gave her a wink and nudged her toward the table, announcing, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Elizabeth Summers, my fiancé. Elizabeth, this is Alexander Harris and his wife Anya,” William said, pointing toward the couple across from her. “They’re good friends of mine, plus Harris works for me.”

“Call me Xander,” Xander said, extending his hand across the table to take hers. He kissed her knuckles lightly. “Pleasure to meet you, Elizabeth.”

Blushing, Buffy nodded. “You can call me Buffy.”

Anya slapped at his hand. “My husband has a problem with flirting,” she said in apology.

Not knowing exactly how to respond to that, Buffy kept her eyes averted from them.

Noticing her discomfort, William went on, smiling at the woman seated on his left. “And this is Drusilla.”

Buffy looked up to see a dark-haired woman scowling at her. She stared back, confused as to why Drusilla seemed so hostile towards her. Finally she said, “Are you also a friend of William’s?” She saw both Xander and Anya stiffen in their chairs and worried that she had made a terrible mistake.

Drusilla sneered at her, reaching out to grasp William’s arm. Squeezing onto it tightly, she said scathingly, “No, dearie. ‘M his mistress.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

TBC....
 

~Chapter Four: Day Two (Hatred and Acceptance)

Buffy’s mouth dropped open. “I-I’m sorry, you’re his *what*?” she asked in shock.

The sneer curving Drusilla’s lips widened. “His mistress, dearie.” Her dark eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped dangerously low. “You see, you may be the woman he can take home to mummy, but *I* am the woman he *chooses* to bed.”

William scowled at her. “That’s enough, Dru,” he said harshly, wrenching his arm from her grasp.

“What?” Drusilla pouted, giving him her best innocent look. “‘M only speaking the truth, pet.”

“I said that’s *enough*.” William’s voice was quiet but threatening, leaving no room for argument.

Drusilla sat back in her chair, eyeing Buffy with a murderous glint in her dark eyes.

“‘M sorry, luv,” William said, turning his head to look at Buffy. “Drusilla didn’t mean you harm, did you, Dru?” He looked back at his mistress and quirked a scarred eyebrow at her, daring her to argue with him.

“‘Course not,” Drusilla replied in a falsely sweet voice as she glared up at William.

“I’m sorry, but...I really think I should...I’m just gonna go,” Buffy stammered, turning her back on the table and running for the stairs. Hot tears of shame and humiliation raced down her cheeks, but she held in her sobs, unwilling to give Drusilla the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

As Buffy left the room, Drusilla couldn’t help the giggle that escaped, but she quickly regretted it.

William swung around to face her, rage eminent on his face. His body was rigid, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “God damn it, Dru!” he shouted, pounding a fist on the table. “What have I told you ‘bout being civil?”

Xander and Anya stood, casting worried glances at the fighting couple. “We’re just, um...yeah,” Xander said nervously, taking his wife’s hand and leading her quickly out of the house.

“What was *that* about?” Anya asked once they were outside.

Xander shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him get so mad. Not with Dru anyway.”

Anya snorted. “She deserved it. Poor Buffy. I hope she’s all right.”

“I’m sure she is, Ahn.”

“I can’t believe he brought her to dinner,” Anya said a while later, shaking her head.

“Who? Buffy?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “No, not Buffy. Drusilla. Why did he have to invite her today of all days?”

This time it was Xander’s turn to shake his head. “I told him not to, but does he listen to me? Nope. Now he’s got twice as much shit to deal with. If he just would’ve listened to what I had to say, but no, he’s gotta be stubborn and do things his own way.”

Anya latched onto his arm, stroking it comfortingly. “I’m sure you can gloat about it tomorrow, honey.”

Xander smiled and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s what I love about you, Anya. You always look on the bright side of things.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, back inside the house...

“You know, I didn’t have to invite you tonight,” William said as he paced around the room. “Figured it would be easier if she knew ‘bout you up front. That way, there’d be no bloody way for her to say that I was hiding things from her.” He paused to glare at her. “Didn’t expect you to act like such a child.”

Drusilla lowered her eyes to the floor in shame. Her mouth began to quiver as she summoned up the tears she knew would get her back on William’s good side. He was such a sucker for tears; he could never stand to see anyone in pain.

“Now I have to go apologize for *your* behavior,” he mumbled angrily.

“‘M sorry, lamb,” Dru blubbered, allowing the tears to course freely down her cheeks.

He closed his eyes, steeling himself against the sight of her crying. “It won’t work, Dru,” he said, more to himself than to her. “You’ve really done it this time. ‘M not gonna be swayed by your tears.” As he said the last, he opened one eye to see if she was indeed still crying.

Drusilla had moved from the table and was very slowly making her way towards him, swinging her hips invitingly. The tear tracks were evident on her wet cheeks, and her lower lip still trembled slightly. She stood in front of him, looking up into his eyes pleadingly. “Don’t be mad, luv,” she cooed, wrapping her hand around his bicep.

“You were out of line, Dru,” he said softly, already losing his nerve to stay angry with her.

She nodded, and a wicked grin spread across her face. “I’ve been very naughty.”

“Then you must be punished,” he said in mock-seriousness, dragging her away to his bedroom.

“What ‘bout the girl?” Dru asked quietly, hurrying to catch up with him as he pulled her along.

William shrugged. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Give the bird some time to cool down.”

As they started up the stairs, Drusilla grinned devilishly at his back.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“He’s...he’s...oh! I can’t stand him!” Buffy cried as she stomped around her room.

“He’s not that bad, Buffy,” Willow said timidly from her place on the edge of the bed. “Really. You just have to get to know him.”

Buffy whirled to face her. “I don’t *want* to get to know him!” she snarled. “I hate him!”

Willow shrank back under the onslaught. She understood how Buffy felt, but she also knew that William wasn’t a bad guy. She opened her mouth to meekly try and defend him one more time, but a noise in the hall stopped her. She flew off the bed and placed her hand over Buffy’s mouth. “He’s coming upstairs,” she whispered.

Buffy glowered at the door, imagining William himself was standing there.

“I’m gonna let you go now,” Willow said, “and then I’m going to leave. You need to get some sleep. I’m sure he’ll come talk to you tomorrow, and you two can straighten this whole thing out.” She removed her hand and dashed for the door, throwing a hushed “Good night!” over her shoulder.

Alone in the room, Buffy saw nothing left to do but sleep. She hoped William would talk to her in the morning; there were definitely a few choice things she had to say to him. She crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, mulling over in her head the delightful insults she would hurl at him the next day.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Buffy awoke to the sound of insistent knocking on her door. With a groan, she rolled out of bed and padded to the door.

Willow stood on the other side, a brilliant smile on her face. “Morning, Sunshine,” she said as she entered the room.

An incoherent grumble was her only reply as Buffy trudged back to the bed and climbed under the covers again.

“No, no, no,” Willow admonished softly, pulling the covers from Buffy’s head. “You have to get ready. William’s coming up in a few minutes to talk to you.”

At this, Buffy growled. “I don’t want to see him,” she said gruffly, rolling over on her side. “Tell him I’ll talk to him when I’m good and ready.”

“He won’t take that for an answer, I’m afraid,” Willow replied, yanking Buffy to her feet. “Come on, don’t be a baby.”

Buffy frowned but complied, allowing Willow to lead her to the dresser. She pulled on a sky blue day gown and sat on the settee so Willow could brush her hair. When the cheery little redhead was finally satisfied, she gave Buffy a brief hug and wished her luck, then hurried out the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the next few minutes, Buffy nearly wore a hole in the floor from her pacing. She clenched and unclenched her fists in frustration and anger.

“How *dare* he bring that tramp to the dinner table!” she cried and immediately stopped her pacing.

‘Was that jealousy in my tone?’ she thought, then shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly, Buffy. You’re not jealous of that wench...although she is pretty. Stop it! You are *not* jealous! You don’t even *like* William, remember? Why should you care whom he spends his nights with?’

She groaned and shook her head vehemently to clear her thoughts. “You’re angry because he disgraced you, not because you care that he sleeps with her,” she told herself fiercely.

A knock sounded on her door.

Buffy spun to face the door but didn’t speak.

He knocked again. “Elizabeth?”

Stomping to the door, she wrenched it open and gave him her very best scowl. “What?”

Taken slightly aback by her irate tone, William said hesitantly, “I came to apologize...for Dru.”

“She can’t apologize for herself?” Buffy snapped, not moving to allow him entry.

“She was embarrassed,” he lied easily. “She knows her behavior was...”

“Rude? Obnoxious? Childish?”

He frowned. “Look, she knows she was wrong. She feels badly ‘bout it.”

Buffy laughed scornfully. “Oh, now she feels badly? Well, I guess it’s just forgive and forget then. Nobody cares what *I’m* feeling as long as your prostitute is sorry.”

“I’ll go out on a limb and say you’re feeling angry,” William replied sarcastically.

Buffy’s scowl deepened. “Don’t you dare make fun of me, William Edmonton,” she warned. “You disgraced me by bringing that...that...whore into my home! You allowed her to sit at the table like an equal, showing no respect for me or your guests.”

He took a threatening step closer to her, eyes narrowed and jaw set. “I treat everyone like equals, Ms. Summers,” he said coldly. “And this is *my* house. What I do and whom I choose to dine with is none of your concern.”

“I am your wife, Mr. Edmonton,” Buffy spat, matching his icy tone, “and that makes me partial owner of this estate. I am entitled to my own opinion and should have a say in who comes and goes around here.”

“You are my fiancé,” William corrected. “Until the vows are spoken, this house belongs to me. If you would like to continue staying here, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Or else what?”

“Excuse me?”

“Keep my opinions to myself or else what? What’re you gonna do to me?” Buffy sneered. “You can’t throw me out, and you know it. Your mother would kill you, not to mention you’d be breaking the betrothal contract. So tell me,” she continued, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side, “just what are you gonna do about it?”

William smirked. “Don’t have to throw you out, ducks. There are plenty of cold, dark chambers in the basement where you could stay. Could make your life a living hell if I wanted to.”

“You already are.” Her tone was meant to be scathing but didn’t quite make it. Pain and sadness flooded her voice, and she turned away from him in disgust.

Inwardly, William flinched. This slip of a girl was a lot stronger than she looked, but he could tell she was hurting inside. He sighed, wishing they didn’t have to be the cause of each other’s pain. “Elizabeth, ‘m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so harsh with you.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

Buffy jerked away from him as if she’d been scalded by his touch. “I don’t want your pity,” she stated firmly.

“Fine,” he snapped. “But you need to learn a few things.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Like what?”

“Number one, you can’t go round picking fights with people.”

“I didn’t...”

William put a finger to her lips. “Everyone is treated with equal respect in my house. You want respect from the others, you show them respect. Number two, we both have to learn to accept this marriage. Things will go much better if we make the best of a bad situation.”

“Do we have to like each other?” Buffy asked, her voice slightly muffled by his finger.

He smiled and dropped his hand. “It would make things easier if we could at least be left in the same room without ripping each other to shreds, pet.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose in the air. “Well that’s just too bad because I hate you.”

“Guess I’ll have to work on that,” he murmured.

Buffy opened her mouth to retort, but he was already heading down the hall.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

TBC....

* * * * * * * * * * * *

~Chapter Five: Day Three (The Plot Thickens)~

Drusilla waltzed into the room, a big smile plastered on her ruby lips. She spun in a circle, her arms stretched out in front of her, her head dipped low, curly tendrils of her long black hair grazing the carpet.

“Something amusing, Dru?” a voice asked from the shadows behind her.

Slowly, Drusilla lifted her head and turned toward the voice. “A pretty fight,” she sing-songed, swaying her hips to an imaginary beat.

“A fight?” the voice prodded. “What kind of fight?”

“There’s trouble in paradise. Psst psst,” Dru whispered in a childlike voice.

The shadows shifted, and a burly man came into the sunlight. “What’s happened, Dru?” he asked, an evil smirk twisting his lips. “You know something, don’t you?”

Drusilla giggled. “Princess has a secret.”

The man moved closer, pulling her into his arms. “Come on, Dru. Tell Daddy what you know.”

“The girl and Spike. They were screaming. It hurt my ears.” She covered her ears with her hands as if to demonstrate the noise.

“What were they fighting about?”

Drusilla leaned back into his arms, bending her neck backward so her lips were inches from his ear. “Me.”

“She knows you’re his mistress?” he asked, his grip on her waist tightening.

“Yeah. Then she was mean,” Dru pouted. “Told him ‘m not good enough to sit at the table with the likes of her.”

The man nodded. “And now she doesn’t like him, is that correct?”

Drusilla whimpered and pulled away from him, hurt that he didn’t seem to care that the girl was treating her badly.

“Drusilla,” he warned. “Is that why she doesn’t like him? Because of you?”

She nodded silently.

A relieved smile spread across his face. He stepped closer to her, grabbing her roughly around the waist. “That’s good news, Dru. You did exactly what I told you to, and everything’s working out perfectly.” He crushed his mouth down on hers, brutally ravaging her lips with a savage kiss. When he pulled away, his dark eyes were glittering with malice. “Now, just one more thing. How long until the wedding?”

“The wedding,” Dru echoed in her childlike voice. “What a joyous occasion. There’ll be streamers and balloons.”

“When is it?” the man repeated, his patience waning thin.

“Tomorrow.”

He frowned slightly. “We’ll have to work fast. I want you to take Spike somewhere tonight. Keep him there as long as possible. I’ll take care of the girl.”

Drusilla clapped her hands in glee. “Should we bring gifts for the happy couple?”

“We are the gifts, baby,” he told her throatily, swinging her up into his arms. He carried her into the bedroom as their evil laughter rang throughout the building.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“I don’t see why this is so important,” Buffy whined, trailing behind an insistent Willow.

“There’s just something he wanted to show you,” Willow replied. “To make up for the fight you guys had last night.”

Buffy snorted. “Then why isn’t he out here showing me himself?”

Willow giggled. “I think he’s afraid of you.”

Buffy grinned. “I was pretty intimidating, wasn’t I?” She sighed. “Fine. I’ll play along. But this is in *no* way a peace offering, got it? I’m doing this for you, not him.”

“Of course,” Willow replied, turning away quickly so Buffy wouldn’t see the smile creep over her face.

They continued walking through the field, idly gossiping about different things but careful to stay away from William or Drusilla. Buffy still bristled every time she heard that woman’s name, and she was still furious with her betrothed. She hadn’t spoken to him since last night, and she didn’t intend to until the wedding when she would grit out the words that would bind her to him forever. The thought depressed her like hell, so she shook it off and concentrated on the redhead’s constant chatter instead.

“Then Xander met Anya, and that pretty much ended any hope I had about us,” Willow said sadly. “Not that I don’t like Anya,” she quickly added.

Buffy smiled kindly at her. “I’m sorry. That sounds pretty rough. It sounds like you two were pretty close.”

Willow smiled wistfully at the memory. “We were...are. W-we are. It’s just, now he has to spend time with her, so there isn’t a lot of ‘us’ time, you know?”

“You haven’t had your eye on someone since Xander?”

Willow blushed.

Buffy’s hazel eyes lit up with mischief. “Oooh, somebody’s got a crush!” she sing-songed. “Who is he?”

The blush staining Willow’s cheeks intensified, and she ducked her head. “His name is Daniel Osbourne, but we all call him Oz. He works for Liam Donovan. Oh, look, we’re here!” She pointed to a fenced corral and a long row of stables.

“Horses?” Buffy asked, forgetting what Willow had said in the excitement. “I didn’t know William had horses.”

“Lots of them,” Willow told her, taking her arm and leading her toward the stables. “This is what he wanted to show you. He figured you’d like to get out and ride sometimes.”

A small smile twitched at the corners of Buffy’s mouth. “That was nice of him,” she mumbled. Then to Willow she said, “I love to ride. My father used to take me when I was little. He wouldn’t let me ride my own horse because he was afraid I’d fall off. I haven’t ridden since Mom and I moved.”

“So you’ve never ridden by yourself?”

Buffy shook her head, glancing down the row of horses. “I think I know how though. I watched my father’s hands as he guided the horse around the pasture back home.” She looked at Willow and smiled shyly. “But, just in case, will you come with me?”

Willow beamed. “No problem. Expert rider here.”

Buffy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Well, maybe not so much the expert. More like an avid watcher,” Willow admitted bashfully.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“Once,” Willow replied in embarrassment.

Buffy giggled. “Guess we’ll just have to teach each other then.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

William glanced up from his desk as Drusilla flounced in, her long red dress trailing behind her. He gave her a thin smile before continuing to peruse the papers before him.

Drusilla leaned against the desk. “‘Ello, luv. Feel like a bit of a jaunt?”

William frowned up at her. “Can’t you see I’m working, Dru?”

She pouted. “Please. We haven’t been out in so long.”

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Listen, pet, I’ve got a lot of work to do here. I have to look over these papers and give them to Xander before morning. Plus, I’ve still got that damn Angel to deal with.”

“Angel?” Drusilla echoed, a frown flitting across her features.

“Yeah. Bloody poof wants to see me sometime this week, no doubt to haggle me some more ‘bout the land.” He shook his head. “Don’t know why he bothers.”

Drusilla reached across the desk and took his hand. “The stars are out tonight,” she purred. “Don’t you want to see them sparkle? They’re beautiful.”

William thought for a moment. He had been working all day, and his stress level was higher than normal, what with the whole Angel thing, not to mention his upcoming wedding. He deserved a break. “All right, ducks,” he said, grinning. “Let’s take a stroll through the park.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The stars were indeed out as Buffy trotted back to the stables. Willow had left a while ago, but Buffy had wanted to stay out a bit longer to think. She was a bundle of nerves, and she had hoped riding would help her forget about the upcoming wedding. Unfortunately, her thoughts kept returning to the same place. Sighing heavily, she put the horse away and started back toward the manor.

“Out for a late night stroll?” a voice asked from the shadows.

Buffy tensed and peered through the darkness. “Who’s there?” she asked, panic in her voice.

A tall, burly man stepped out into the moonlight. His eyes and hair were dark, and his mouth was turned upward in an amused smile. “Didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “You looked like you needed some company.” He held out his hand. “I’m Liam Donovan.”

“Yes, well,” Buffy replied tersely, ignoring his hand, “thank you for your concern, Mr. Donovan, but I’m fine.” She brushed past him, but the familiar name rang a bell in her head. “You’re Liam Donovan?” she asked, turning back around.

He looked slightly panicked. “You’ve heard of me?”

“My friend Willow mentioned your name earlier,” Buffy explained. “Daniel Osbourne works for you, right?”

“Oz? Yeah, he does,” Liam answered, relaxing.

She flashed him a small smile. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Donovan.”

Liam held out his hand again. “Call me Liam, please. And you are?”

Taking his hand, Buffy said, “Elizabeth Summers.”

His eyes widened. “You’re Spike’s bride-to-be?”

“Spike?” Buffy echoed, confused.

“William,” Liam clarified.

She giggled. “Why do you call him Spike?”

“He’s an old...friend...of mine,” Liam explained haltingly. “Spike’s what his friends call him.” He chuckled. “Don’t ask how it got started.”

She smiled brightly. “Well, thank you, Liam. I now have something to make fun of him about.”

He returned her smile. “Glad to oblige, Ms. Summers.”

“Buffy,” she corrected, beckoning him to walk with her. “So, what do you do, Liam?”

“I buy and sell land just like your husband. In fact, I was hoping to talk to him. There’s some land I’d like to buy from him. Do you happen to know where he is?”

Her eyes hardened. “No, I don’t.”

Liam looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you where he was going?”

She was silent.

He laughed ruefully. “No, of course he wouldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t care about your feelings. After all, there’s only one thing he needs from you. Once he’s got that, I’m pretty sure you’ll be forgotten, sad to say.”

Buffy’s eyes snapped to his. “What do you mean?”

He bit his lip. “He didn’t tell you about the deal he made with his father did he?”

“What deal?”

“His father knew the betrothal alone wouldn’t force Spike to marry you,” Liam sighed, “so he added something extra. Once Spike produces a male heir to carry on the Edmonton name, he receives his father’s fortune. Quite a large fortune, I might add.” He looked at her sadly. “That’s the only reason he’s going through with this marriage.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

TBC....

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