The Best Marquess by Nicola Davidson
Chapter 18
He thought he’d known fear when the pistol was waved at Abby.
But now it was pointed directly at Pippa.
“Campbell,” Finn said, terror sharpening his tone far more than he wished. “Put the damned gun down.”
“I hold the weapon,” said the baron smugly, as he deliberately cocked the pistol, “therefore, I should be the one issuing the instructions. And my instruction is, each vile, lewd item in this den of sin will be destroyed. Every single one, into the fire. Your father would be proud of my industriousness.”
“No doubt you are correct,” he lied as he inched closer, trying to get between Lord Campbell and Pippa. Xavier and Mr. Gordon had discreetly cornered Sir Edwin who looked much less defiant than a few minutes earlier. “I…strayed onto the wrong path.”
“You did. Young rakes, the bane of London. Turning all the ladies’ heads. Even the married ones. Why can’t you just use the actresses like a respectable gentleman? They don’t matter…oooooowwwww.”
In other circumstances, it might have been comical to watch Abby stab the baron’s trouser-clad leg with a short chisel used to shape dildos. But as the older man hopped around, clutching his thigh, the cocked pistol waved about in his other hand like a deadly flag. And he was still so close to Pippa. If he accidentally shot her…
Finn took a ragged breath. No. He had to get that gun by any means necessary. He had to be the hero. No one else in the room was close enough, and now that Abby had created the distraction, he could make his move.
The baron kicked Abby, and she sprawled backward. “Guttersnipe. You belong with the rats I told you about, alongside Lady Pinehurst who has her common mother’s bad blood and is unworthy of the Nash name.”
“How dare you,” snarled Pippa, darting forward, one fist raised as though she meant to hit Lord Campbell.
Abruptly the world seemed to slow, everyone moving and speaking like they swam through molasses. Lord Campbell once again pointed the pistol at Pippa, and Finn hurled himself in front of her, directly at the baron, just as a gunshot cracked.
As the sound echoed in the sparsely furnished parlor, Finn landed heavily on the wooden floor, the wind knocked out of him and his ears ringing like he’d been tied to Cheapside’s Bow Bells. Now his damned shoulder hurt. Had someone punched him? Had he landed on the chisel?
As he lay on the floor, his foggy head whirling with confusion, he watched Nicholas knock Sir Edwin unconscious with a brutally efficient blow to the jaw, and Xavier rather expertly wrest Lord Campbell to the ground and secure his hands behind his back. But when Finn tried to get up to assist, his limbs did not cooperate. Gah. How embarrassing.
Then he saw Pippa struggle unsteadily to her feet. He’d knocked her over with his ungainly leap. “Forgive me, Pippet. Bad form.”
His wife screamed, pointing at him.
Finn frowned as his teeth began to chatter. Why was there an odd scent in the room? It smelled like the time he’d caught his knee on a nail and a gush of blood had made a small pool…ugh, his shirt was wet. “I’m sweating,” he muttered in disgust.
Pippa dropped to her knees beside him, then gently lifted his head into her lap. “Finn? Can you hear me? Finn!”
He stared up at his wife. Of course, he could hear her. Well, in truth he would hear her much better if his ears stopped ringing and his teeth stopped chattering. And now the sweat was making his shirt stick to his chest. This was more than embarrassing; it was downright humiliating. Some hero he’d turned out to be.
“I’ll send for a physician and fetch some bandages,” said Abby sharply. “In the meantime, Pippa, take off his cravat and press it on the wound. Do that now. Lady Campbell, you come with me. Lady Campbell? Now!”
“I’ll fetch a constable,” said Xavier, crouching next to him. “You just stay still, Pinehurst. Let Pip tend you. Mr. Gordon has seen to Sir Edwin, so nothing for you to worry about. Well, apart from your wife, of course. I think you’re about to get your ears burned off, old chum.”
“Are you angry, Pippet?” Finn mumbled.
“What did I say to you earlier?” she said hoarsely, her face starkly pale. “I specifically said I would be very, very cross if you were hurt. Then you go and throw yourself at a man with a gun!”
“You like acts. Not just words. Had to show my love.”
Pippa cradled him tighter. “Listen carefully. You may not leave me. I won’t stand for that. I haven’t…I haven’t said things. Haven’t told you how I feel. But I know what is true. It is so clear. Well, it was clear earlier but I had to confirm, of course.”
He blinked heavy eyes at her. The pain in his shoulder was getting worse now, like someone had stabbed him. He tried to lift his left arm, but it still wouldn’t work. Then he tried his right arm. That moved, but when he touched his left shoulder, he gasped. Was that…blood? “What is true?”
“I love you. You are my sunshine. My grand passion. My hero. You are the man I one day wish to have babies with, because let me tell you, Finlay Charles, I would not undertake all that damned nonsense for months then endure labor, for just any gentleman. Only you. The man who makes me laugh, holds me during storms, and dries tears. Who sees me. Who thinks I’m beautiful with spectacles and messy hair and introduced me to the kind of pleasure I only ever dreamed about. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to open my heart to love. But I have. With my Finn. I love you forever and ever after. Just like in the novels.”
Finn beamed at her. “Darling Pippet. I’ve always loved you. And I certainly hate to put a dampener on the moment, but I think I’m bleeding—”
“Beg pardon, madam. If I could just get closer to the patient? Much obliged.”
A new face appeared above him, a stranger’s face, weathered and tanned and grave as he efficiently unpacked a large black leather satchel. A physician.
“What are you going to do?” Finn asked curiously. How odd that his foggy head had cleared, but his shoulder was worsening. “Sew up my cut? I think I landed on a chisel.”
The physician’s expression eased. “No sir. I am going to examine your shoulder and see if I must remove a bullet or merely stitch up where a bullet grazed. It will help if you take a few swigs of this brandy.”
A bullet?
He’d been shot?
Furious, Finn turned his head and glared at that sack of shit, Lord Campbell. The baron now sported a swollen-shut eye thanks to Nicholas and had been gagged with a cravat and tied to a chair with what looked like Bliss soft weave bondage rope. On another day he would have admired the fighter’s efforts, but getting shot goddamned fucking hurt. Instead, he gratefully accepted the fiery brandy glow as he took several swallows from the bottle Pippa held to his mouth. Next, the physician cut away his jacket and linen shirt, and he shivered as the cooler air hit his overheated skin.
“Beg pardon, sir, but this is going to hurt. A lot.”
Finn swore as the physician poured two fingers of brandy on the open wound to clean it. In novels, heroes who were shot acted as though it was a mild inconvenience much like the removal of a splinter, while their one true love cooed beside them. In reality, even after the brandy to dull his senses, it was still taking every ounce of his will not to yowl like a cat with a trapped tail. And Pippa kept frowning at him, as though charging at an angry baron with a pistol had been an exceedingly foolish thing to do rather than dashing and brave.
On the other hand…she loved him. Had said she loved him in front of witnesses, something that for him put every declaration ever said in a romance novel to shame.
“I am your sunshine and your grand passion,” he mumbled through gritted teeth while his shoulder burned in another wash of brandy hellfire.
“You are a twit,” said his wife irritably as she smoothed his hair, yet she also observed the physician like a hawk, as though she wanted to shove the older man out of the way and do the task herself.
Finn took another swig of brandy, spluttering a little as the liquid hit the back of his throat. “And by twit you mean I am your hero, now and forever after. You said it and cannot take it back, for Gordon and even that numbskull Campbell heard you.”
“It was very nice,” said Nicholas, from where he stood guarding the groggy pair of Lord Campbell and Sir Edwin. “Reminds me of when Octavia first said I love you. Well, a bit, anyway. I believe her exact words were, I love you, you damned fool, but if you ever again risk life and limb to climb a tree and play the flute outside my window, I will pelt you with rotten fruit. Apparently, we don’t have to risk death or injury to win a heart, my lord.”
Finn almost smiled.
But where was the excitement in that?
“There is no bullet or bullet fragment inside your husband’s shoulder, ma’am. He was very fortunate; it has gouged a nasty path across his upper arm which will require stitches, but no damage to limb, bone or sinew.”
At the calm, matter of fact words, Pippa closed her eyes briefly and took deep breaths. It might take a while to rid herself of the cold, numbing fright that had taken hold of her entire body when she’d thought Finn, her husband, her best friend, her lover, the man who had been at her side for sixteen precious years, might be lost forever.
Because a world without him was entirely too bleak and dark to even contemplate.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to.
“I’m much obliged for your care,” she murmured to the physician, surprised her lips were still able to form words. “Do you see a lot of wounds like this?”
The man nodded as he bathed a needle in some brandy, patted it dry, then began threading it with reassuring expertise. “I was an army surgeon for twenty years, retired after Waterloo, so have tended more bullet wounds than you’ve had hot suppers. Now I enjoy painting, like many others who live in Golden Square. Good people. Friendly. Well, except the visitors with pistols,” he finished pointedly, staring with acute dislike at the baron.
“A painter? How lovely. My husband sketches.”
“Oh?” said the physician, brightening. “What do you sketch, sir? Portraits? Landscapes?”
“Pleasure toy designs, mostly,” said Finn unsteadily. “Also, portraits of my wife in her spectacles. I love her spectacles. They make me har—”
“Happy,” said Pippa, sealing her hand over his mouth so brandy and being shot didn’t loosen his tongue further.
“How interesting,” said the physician, but his lips twitched. “I would ask, ma’am, that you keep your hand right there and perhaps restrain his uninjured shoulder. Stitching is unpleasant but necessary to prevent infection. After that I will douse the wound again, then bind it up with the bandages Mrs. Overton provided.”
She nodded, grateful beyond measure for the older man’s soothing manner. No doubt he’d seen the worst sights imaginable and probably thought he’d finally be free from such situations, as a painter with the other creative people in the square. But for this service, and Mr. Gordon’s, it was hard to imagine how to repay such a favor. Unless they liked pleasure toys and romance novels, for there was an abundance of those in this townhouse.
It was impossible not to wince when the physician began to stitch the jagged gash marring Finn’s upper arm; especially when her husband banged his shoe heel on the floor and gripped her hand in a manner similar to Lilian in labor. Gah. He looked so pale, and now he was actually sweating; it glistened on his temples.
“Nearly done,” she whispered, stroking his hair some more.
“Constable’s here,” announced Xavier, as he strode back into the parlor. “Taking statements from witnesses. He’s speaking to Mrs. Overton first, then Lady Campbell.”
Pippa pursed her lips and glared at her twin. The wretch had a lot of explaining to do about his activities of late, and once they had Finn tucked up safely in bed, she would interrogate him more harshly than the meanest magistrate in London. “Xavier, I hope you’ve taken heed of all the lessons learned today, and will make any love declaration in a safe, non-violent environment. Nothing wrong with saying I love you in a confectioner’s store. Or perhaps a library, sitting stop a pile of satin cushions.”
Her twin snorted. “Can’t see myself ever saying it, so no need to fret, Pip.”
“Never say never, lad,” said the physician unexpectedly as he knotted the end of Finn’s stitches before bandaging the wound. “I met my true love at the age of forty and made my declaration during the Battle of Talavera. Although…perhaps that’s not helpful to the discussion. Ahem. Madam, please remember to put a poultice on this wound site every few days, keep his arm pinned to the opposite shoulder, and ensure he rests. I am sure, sir, your wife will help you heed my instructions.”
“Yes,” said Finn. “She will.”
“Damned right,” said Pippa cheerfully, feeling like a boulder had been lifted from her shoulders.
Xavier laughed. “Pinehurst, I accept a certain responsibility for events, so will offer a warning; you’re about two minutes away from a severe ear boxing.”
She pointed at the parlor door. “You are one minute away. Begone, least favorite twin.”
An eternity later, after the constable had taken detailed written statements from them all, Lord Campbell and Sir Edwin had been marched away for questioning, and Xavier had taken Lady Campbell and Mr. Gordon home in his carriage, she and Finn were finally alone in the parlor. Abby had given them both a carefully fierce hug, before fetching Nerissa from upstairs where she’d thankfully been with her nurse. The little girl had enthusiastically greeted ‘Sweetie and Pip Pip’ and given them both leg hugs, but in the absence of hidden marzipan, had been quite content to go and visit someone next door called Bridget.
“Well, my lord husband,” said Pippa crisply, as she assisted Finn to his feet. “I think we should return to Hanover Square.”
“You aren’t really going to box my ears, are you? Doesn’t seem very sporting in my current state.”
Staring at the ceiling for a long moment, Pippa swallowed hard as her eyes gave up on being stoic and began to water. “I should. Because I don’t think you quite grasp how important you are to me. How necessary. I could not be happy without you. After sixteen years, a Finn-sized hole in my life would be unendurable. I am quite, quite happy to read about characters hurling themselves into shark-infested waters…or sword fighting an evil Prussian atop a moving carriage…or catapulting themselves over a flaming castle wall to bed a princess…but I do not wish you to do those sorts of things to prove your love.”
“Not even a one-harmed handstand on horseback?”
“Not even that. I feel love when you hold me. When you bring me books and pleasure toys. When you make me come several times because once isn’t enough. I want my love at my side and in my b-bed, petting me and c-calling me Pippet. Not in a d-damned t-tomb…”
Finn cleared his throat. “You like that nickname. I thought you tolerated it, but you truly like it.”
“I like it from you. If anyone else attempted to call me that, they would get a heel of the hand to the nose. Mr. Gordon has promised to teach me the correct technique because I asked very nicely. I also suggested that he start a class for young ladies needing to dissuade a persistent or unwelcome suitor; he thought it a wonderful idea and is going to discuss with Mrs. Gordon. I hope she says yes, because I will put Georgiana’s name first on the list.”
He laughed, then winced. “No jests, I beg of you. I should also add, some gentlemen might be alarmed by all that, but it just makes me love you more. And I will say I love you, often. And how splendidly wonderful you are. Because words are important. However, I will do my best to show you as well. Safely. In ways that make your heart happy.”
“Like petting,” said Pippa, stepping closer so she could rest her forehead on his uninjured shoulder. “That is much better than dancing with bullets.”
“Like petting,” he agreed, kissing the top of her head. “Let’s go home and look at ledgers. Or, I could show you my design sketchbook, which has many pleasure toys but probably far more drawings of you wearing your spectacles. I get a bit distracted thinking of them.”
“No, you will be going to bed and resting. I will examine the ledgers though. And the sketchbook. And the political documents, the contracts, and the estate deeds—”
“Pippa Pearl Pinehurst, if you orgasm right now, it is going to create awkwardness between us…ouch. Did you just crush my toes with exquisite precision?”
“Me?” she said, leaning back so she could look up at him and flutter her lashes. “Impossible. Us spectacle-wearers can barely see feet, let alone crush them. And in the absence of a new romance novel to read, I must devote my time to other pursuits.”
Finn sighed. “We have a new book due to arrive in the country shortly. The Queen’s Lovers. It’s about a widowed dowager queen who begins a scorching hot affair with her two bodyguards. Protection by day, double penetration by night.”
“What? I swear, if I do not receive the first copy from the first box…”
“On my honor, you shall. With an improved version of your favorite double dildo. Read about double penetration while receiving it.”
Pippa deliberately peered over the top of her spectacles. “All I heard just then was I love you, I love you, I love you,” she said blissfully, as she went up on her toes and kissed him. “You are indeed the best marquess.”
“Then let us go home and put me to bed. But there is definitely room for two.”
She curved a supporting arm around his waist, and together they ambled out of the parlor. They had conquered the villain, found true love, and were well on their way to happily ever after.
Just as it should be.
March, 1816
“My lord husband, if you orgasm eating a Gunter’s brown bread ice, it will make things awkward between us.”
In the warmth and comfort of the carriage, Finn dug his spoon once again into the glass dish and heaped more of the rich, malty treat into his mouth. Not only had General Pippet enforced poultices on his upper arm wound site, she’d also insisted on a strict diet of barley water, chicken broth, and vanilla custard to assist with the healing process, as per the advice from textbooks she had perused. After two weeks trapped in culinary purgatory, even rare bloodied beef had started to sound appetizing.
But a brown bread ice…Utopia.
“I have a newfound appreciation for anything that isn’t invalid food,” he replied, shuddering. “Yes, you being cross is certainly a deterrent to hurling oneself at a man firing a pistol, but really, you should have proceeded directly to threatening barley water and broth.”
“Duly noted,” said Pippa, her satisfied look sufficient proof that spectacle-wearing bluestockings possessed a truly diabolical streak when it came to retribution for foolish activity. “And now, with that arm unpinned and you on the road to recovery, you can practice your oaths and declarations for taking that seat in the House.”
“Gah.”
“That is my line,” she replied, briefly removing her spectacles so she could clean them with a linen handkerchief. “But I’ve been pondering the matter, and believe we have been thinking about the House all wrong. It is not a barren wasteland of pompous pigs at a trough, well not completely. Taking your seat offers an opportunity for you and other young peers to turn a page on the past and champion things like warm, dry housing for the poor and education for all. Things like women’s rights.”
“True,” said Finn slowly. “I’m not the only younger peer with a progressive outlook. Devonshire also supports abolition of slavery.”
“Are you and he going to be friends, then?”
He grinned. “I can be magnanimous in victory. Besides, he did order a staggeringly large number of Bliss masks for an upcoming house party with the Carlton House set.”
“Huzzah, something good came from you being shot.”
Finn nodded. It had been one hell of a scandal, and they hadn’t been able to keep the story of Bliss and the shooting out of the newspapers. After a long discussion with Abby, they had decided to embrace the notoriety and open an appointment-only salon in the Golden Square parlor to display their pleasure toys and accessories. It was proving extremely popular; and while the odd few protestors sometimes marched outside, the four new armed bodyguards ensured there was no trouble.
As for Lord Campbell, he was cooling his heels in the Tower after being charged with attempted murder. Sir Edwin Ironside had been stripped of his political seat and banished back to the north. Lady Campbell was now thoroughly enjoying life with a large stack of romance novels and a full collection of dildos.
“No, the greatest thing was you declaring your love,” he said.
Pippa blew him a kiss before taking their empty ice dishes and setting them next to the Berkeley Square railing for the waiters to fetch later. “Before you get all sentimental about that, I do have a teeny tiny confession to make.”
Finn groaned audibly as he waited for her to sit back down, then he tapped the roof for the carriage to return home to Hanover Square. “Yes?”
“All those porcelain figurines that have been delivered, aren’t for shelves and mantelpieces. Mr. Gordon suggested I use them to practice the nose-breaking movement. My lessons are progressing well, but I need to train properly to truly be effective as a bodyguard.”
“Beg pardon?” he spluttered. “A bodyguard?”
“Well, yes,” Pippa replied patiently. “I know you have that delightful cane with the sword tip now, but someone must protect the owner of Bliss when he is out strolling, traveling in a curricle or carriage, or perhaps taking a bath in that enormous new permanent marble tub. Villains are always waiting to slither out of the sewer.”
He shook his head, marveling at the woman he’d so sensibly married. “You did this deliberately, didn’t you? Sweetened me up with an ice, before cannonballing that fact into the conversation. I’m surprised there aren’t caramels as well.”
“Moi? Look at this face. The very portrait of innocence.”
“I might believe it…in the bedchamber,” he said, trailing a finger over her bodice and nudging both nipples, currently clamped with the discreet new version crafted of plain gold.
Pippa whimpered, her back arching. “Why, Lord Pinehurst, are you insisting that I accompany you there, then atone with acts of a singularly wicked nature?”
“Correction of wayward wives is important. A husband’s solemn duty.”
“I did promise to obey. I may even do so occasionally.”
“Then I am the most fortunate of men.”
She smiled graciously. “You are indeed. Really though, we must practice bedding at least as often as I practice breaking noses. Then we’ll be quite prepared for when we begin trying for a child. Which I think perhaps should be approximately February of next year. Lilian felt rather unwell in the early stages of pregnancy with Amanda; time it all correctly, and we could once again avoid an entire Season of ton balls and soirees, then welcome a dear wee babe in time for Christmas.”
“Have I told you lately how much I adore your practical mind?”
“Yes. But you may also show me with pleasure toys.”
Finn took her hand, turned it over, and brushed his lips across her wrist until she squirmed on the leather squab and panted. “As you desire, my lady wife.”
When the carriage pulled up in front of Pinehurst House and a footman opened the door and lowered the step, Finn climbed out, amused at Pippa’s unsubtle efforts to make him walk faster. His marchioness would have to work hard to earn her orgasms today.
Then Travers appeared at the townhouse front door, wringing his hands. “Oh, my lord. Thank heavens you’re both home. There is a…situation.”
“I hope you are jesting,” said Pippa, through gritted teeth. “February was the month for situations. March is strictly situation-free.”
“It seems not, my lady,” said their butler, shaking his head. “This one involves the Lady Georgiana. She is here in the blue parlor, and, er…most distressed.”
His wife stilled. “We will be there directly.”
As soon as Travers returned inside, Pippa turned to him. “I bet it’s something with that wretched scoundrel Georgiana thinks she is in love with. Finn, she told me this in confidence, but I’m telling you so you have the facts. They were meeting. At parties and musicales. Stealing away and being intimate. Except he’s never made her come. Not once. I don’t know why she keeps going back, it’s like he’s got some terrible hold over her. That is why Father won’t allow her to wed him. It was never anything to do with me wedding first, but because he had an inkling who the mystery man was, and disliked him that much.”
Finn swore. “She must tell us who he is. At once. No more mystery man nonsense.”
“Agreed.”
Arm in arm, they marched into the parlor, to see Pippa’s sister at the window, hands braced on the frame, head bowed, and shoulders shaking.
Shit.The boldest minx in London looked…defeated.
“Gigi, come and sit down,” said Pippa kindly. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
Georgiana turned and stared at them; her expression haunted. Then she trudged over to the chaise and sank onto it, without so much as a theatrical sigh or expert flounce of her skirts.
Finn’s dread grew. “Tell us how we can help.”
His sister-in-law dashed a hand across her blotchy, tearstained face. “I was…discovered. With a gentleman. In a…compromising position. Oh, don’t look at me like that Pippa, I know it was foolish to go back to him. But the person who caught us…she’s the most infamous gossip in London and she hates me. It’s going to be a worse scandal than Gabriel punching a dandy in the Castlereagh ballroom, or Finlay getting shot by that baron.”
“Why so bad, Little G?” he asked, careful to keep his tone even so they might discover more information. “And I think it’s long past time you confessed this gentleman’s name.”
Georgiana crumpled further. “Major Lord Osbourne.”
Pippa gasped. “What? Gigi! He’s thrice widowed in oddly vague circumstances and literally old enough to be your father! Why, that unspeakable—”
“Tell us the rest,” said Finn, as he took Pippa’s hand and squeezed it, knowing with awful certainty there was still more.
“Xavier called him out,” Georgiana said tearfully. “They were going to meet at dawn. But Major Lord Osbourne didn’t show in the clearing. He…he’s fled to France…and now Xav has gone after him. Oh God, even saying it…I don’t know what to do. I’ve told so many lies to Grandmother that she will actually murder me. Please help.”
Reeling at the tale that was somehow much worse than what he’d expected, even for Georgiana who considered rules to be for other people, Finn exchanged a glance with Pippa. It was just as well they had each other, that they were a solid unbreakable sea wall of friendship, loving support, and care who had weathered many storms of their own.
Little G couldn’t face this alone. She would need all the help she could get.