The Best Marquess by Nicola Davidson
Chapter 4
When a man had matters of the heart pressing on his shoulders and muddying his mind, there was only one thing to be done.
Eat his weight in chewy caramels.
Finn pushed open the door of his favorite Bond Street confectioner and walked inside. It was not only warm and brightly lit, but a range of delicious scents like burnt sugar, bitter chocolate, and sharp citrus surrounded him like a beloved friend’s embrace. The confectioner’s assistant called out a cheerful greeting then ushered him to a well-padded leather chaise to wait.
“Your usual order, Lord Knighton?”
“Please,” he replied.
It fascinated him each time, watching the lad carefully scoop a pile of golden caramels into a large paper bag then secure it with an elegant knot of twine. Next, he took a small paper bag and added a penny’s worth of marzipan plus a few extra on top, then decorated it with a short length of narrow pink ribbon—Miss Wabbit’s current color du jour—for Nessie. The young man performed his duties with the gravity and precision of a surgeon yet all the flair of a florist, and Finn was always tempted to offer him a job at Golden Square. But that would cut off his caramel supply, truly the best in London, so he held his tongue.
Under another glass-topped counter, a display of intricately iced gingerbread cottages each with a tiny marzipan vegetable garden caught his eye, and he whistled in admiration. Confectioners were so damned clever; it almost seemed a crime to eat their creations. Except they tasted so good, it would be a worse crime not to eat them.
And sweets were definitely required to lighten his mood.
He’d known this pretend betrothal idea would be difficult in reality; but he and Pippa hadn’t even announced it yet and it was nigh-on impossible. Especially after the birth of Gabriel and Lilian’s baby, when Pippa fell into his arms in tearful exhaustion. That had been startling at first, for she rarely admitted her feelings or invited comfort. He suspected that was entirely due to life at Kingsford House and far too many years of being the unacknowledged glue holding the family together.
Others might call Pippa eccentric, but with her dragon grandmother, hapless father, formerly repressed older sister, wild younger sister and often absent twin, it was no wonder she dived into various romance novel worlds for respite. That she had actively sought prolonged physical comfort from him was rather momentous; but then she’d jerked away, leaving him once again strapped to that runaway cart of emotional upheaval that necessitated large bags of chewy caramels.
“Here you are, my lord,” said the lad pleasantly, handing over the two packages.
Finn had no doubt the assistant was burning with curiosity as to who he regularly wrapped sweets with a pink ribbon for, but this eye-wateringly expensive confectioner, much like the best tailors or modistes, held secrets like a bank vault. No employee would ever be so crass as to ask for details that weren’t provided.
“Much obliged,” he replied, handing over the required coins, then returning to the front door. After the warmth of the shop the bleak London chill hit him like a slap to the face, and he pulled his greatcoat tighter. Winter was by far the worst season. Everything was darker and sadder and more complicated in winter.
Tucking the two parcels under his arm, Finn turned left and began walking down the footpath to where his driver waited with the town carriage.
“Knighton! We thought we saw you through the confectioner’s window. How do you fare?”
He blinked to see two friends halt directly in front of him, the plump, ebony-haired Countess of Navemby and her aunt, the slender, silver-haired Baroness Campbell. Both were wearing fur-lined coats over their gowns as well as mittens, but the smiles they offered were warm even if their cheeks were pink from the cold.
“Well enough, ladies,” he replied, bowing. “And yourselves?”
The two exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
“Oh Finlay,” whispered Lady Navemby. “A truly splendid thing happened. I was sent an unexpected and most wonderful gift: a very, very naughty romance novel from a company called Bliss. And an order form for bedchamber accessories like they have at pleasure clubs! Well, I couldn’t help myself. I ordered a flogger and a collar for Navemby because he requires regular discipline. We will both be forever grateful for your counsel to talk to each other with a broad mind and open heart about his special desires; our marriage has never been stronger, lustier, or more loving.”
Finn stifled a cheer to hear not only a real-life happy ending, but that Abby’s plan was working. “It was my honor to assist. But Bliss, you say? What else can you tell me about them?”
“They are a fairly new company, I understand,” said Lady Campbell enthusiastically. “I received a romance novel as well, and I’ve never read anything so delightfully filthy. My husband can stand in parliament or in drawing rooms and bellow about the wickedness of sin, I shall just order more books. And perhaps a few dildos. Lord knows Campbell isn’t plundering the treasure cave.”
Lady Navemby snickered. “Aunt Iris, you are wicked.”
“No, the comte is wicked. If a man spread me over his desk and did that with his tongue, I would have surrendered just as quickly as the princess did.”
Finn nodded solemnly. As he’d assisted so many ladies in the ton with their troubles, he’d long ago been designated a safe, discreet, and sympathetic gentleman chum. Now he was often party to England’s most jaw-dropping conversations on marriage, affairs, and bedchamber issues. Much like most society men deemed the ladies weaker, they also deemed them prim and proper. Ha! The tales he’d heard would make a statue blush. “Everyone deserves orgasms exactly how they like them.”
“Precisely. And another bonus of a dildo, aside from being entirely at my command: I don’t have to listen to hours of dull moralistic discourse…damnation, speak of the devil and the devil appears, tapping his pocket watch and glaring at me. Bah. Anyone would think I’d been found in an alley servicing an entire brigade, not standing outside a sweet shop with my niece, talking to a gentleman.”
“A young and handsome gentleman,” said Lady Navemby with a grin. “I don’t think Uncle Campbell has ever been either.”
Finn sniffed. He’d never liked the baron, a crony of Lord Pinehurst’s and an equally miserable and self-important wretch. “Do you wish a hat tip farewell, madam, or to tweak his nose?”
Lady Campbell beamed. “To tweak his nose, my dear, as always. You know I adore your hugs.”
Chuckling, Finn leaned down and embraced the older woman, then kissed her cheek. “I hope you order a great many books.”
“Oh, I shall. There are some wonderfully interesting titles on the provided list. But, talking of romance, how is Lady Pippa?”
Lady Navemby leaned closer. “Yes, how goes your quest? Every time I see her, I want to yell Finlay loves you, but that is not my place. And I do understand the uncertainties in adding lust and marriage to friendship, poor Navemby pined for years. I thought him such a stuffed shirt, and all the while he just wanted me to order him about and redden that delectable backside. Which I will enjoy doing with a brand-new flogger.”
Finn sighed. While sexual discipline wasn’t his preference at all, what the Navembys had was what he wanted with Pippa so badly. The loving affection, shared interests, and the scorching hot lust. It was possible, and to know it could occur outside a romance novel was inspiring. “The quest. Hmmm. Will you both be attending Lady Kingsford’s soiree?”
“Yes, we will. Why?”
“Ask me after that.”
Each woman gasped, but before he could provide any further information, Lord Campbell marched up. “Knighton,” he said peevishly. “These are virtuous, respectable married ladies. The last thing they desire is a silver-tongued rake accosting them on the street, trying to lure them from the path of righteousness. Every day I find it hard to believe such a diseased acorn fell from the mighty Pinehurst oak.”
Finn sketched a bow. “Ah, Lord Campbell. You are the noxious weed between two roses. Good day, ladies.”
The countess embraced him and the baroness blew him a kiss, then both women reluctantly accompanied the baron back to their carriage. Finn gripped his packages of sweets tighter, then hurried along the footpath to where his own carriage waited. His driver was chatting to the owner of a pie cart while wolfing down a meat pastie, but as soon as he saw Finn he waved and leaped up onto his perch. “Where to now, my lord?”
“Gunter’s Tea Shop,” he replied. At the driver’s startled glance, no doubt due to the cold weather, Finn elaborated, “I’m meeting Lady Pippa.”
“Right you are.”
The warmth of the carriage thanks to the residual heat of the bricks on the floor was most welcome, and as the vehicle moved along the street, Finn set down his caramels and marzipan and leaned back against the leather squabs. He and Pippa were meeting to discuss their plan for the soiree; a most necessary precaution when doing battle with the dowager. Lady Kingsford was ruthless at the best of times, but would take no prisoners in the matter of marriage.
He could only hope he and Pippa would emerge unscathed.
“Oh, I meant to say. A book arrived for you yesterday.”
Pippa froze at Georgiana’s offhand words as they waited in the entrance hall for the town carriage to be brought around. “What? Why didn’t you tell me!”
Her sister raised an eyebrow as she pulled on her leather gloves. “That is an awfully loud squawk for a book about chemistry.”
“Modern Principles of Chemistry?”
“Something like that. I accidentally unwrapped it because I thought my gentleman had sent me a necklace from the jewelers. The parcel would be a similar size, you see.”
Pippa took a deep, calming breath. Even with the cunning disguise, A Wicked Comte could be unmasked at any moment and then she would be in terrible trouble. “I’ve been waiting for it. There is…experimentation inside that I am quite desperate to read. Where is the book now?”
“I put it back over there this morning,” said Georgiana, pointing to the silver tray on the entrance hall side table. Usually, the post or messages waited there until Grandmother approved their distribution. Unless, of course, Pippa, Georgiana, or Xavier timed an oh-so-casual visit to the hall at just the right moment to discreetly flick through the pile and snatch up anything they didn’t want her to see.
She practically flew toward the table, praying it was still there. All it would take was one curious maid looking beyond the cover and they would be away tattling to the dowager, for Grandmother encouraged such behavior when it came to breaches of her strict rules. There was no point complaining to Father; he preferred others to make the decisions and was head of the household in name only.
It was still there. Thank God.
Pippa scooped up the book and shoved it into her reticule. One disaster temporarily averted, although another potential one loomed with Finn and the announcement at the upcoming soiree. The family had been joyful about Amanda’s birth, especially Father who had tearfully proclaimed her the sweetest baby in England. Well, everyone except Grandmother, who had shaken her head at the ‘failure’ then instructed Lilian to get with child again as soon as possible so she could dutifully provide the expected son and heir. After that she’d spoken of nothing but Pippa’s impending courtship with Devonshire. The only damned thing on the woman’s mind, it seemed.
At last, the carriage pulled up. It would first drop Georgiana at a friend’s house for a musicale; then Pippa would carry on to Berkeley Square to meet Finn at Gunter’s.
When they were both settled on opposite leather squabs, Pippa peered closer at her sister’s ruby-red velvet gown, nearly hidden by her ankle-length cloak but not quite. “That is a daring color for a musicale.”
Georgiana’s cheeks went pink. “Oh pooh. All colors are daring when you have a bosom like mine. I swear I could wear a burlap sack and it would still be considered indecent.”
“Please. You’re meeting him, aren’t you?”
Pink turned to scarlet. “I’m attending a perfectly respectable gathering at a perfectly respectable residence. But I do not decide the guest list, if he happens to be there on the same day at the same time, what can I do?”
Pippa scowled. “This gentleman isn’t taking advantage, is he?”
Her sister glanced out the carriage window. “He’s not doing anything I don’t permit.”
“Gigi.”
Georgiana looked back, frowning darkly. “Oh, don’t Gigi me. Lilian could have anticipated her vows but chose not to. If you decide the same that is your prerogative, but I am a modern young woman who is carving out her own path. Sexual relations might not feel good just yet, but it will get better. I just have to learn and improve and agree to do more. And if you tattle that I’m no longer a virgin, I will never speak to you again.”
Reeling at the information, Pippa could only stare, aghast. Each prior hint about the so-called gentleman had made her uneasy, but knowing this information made her outright loathe him. Not only had this scoundrel taken liberties with Georgiana and risked her reputation, perhaps even pregnancy, he wasn’t even bothering to make it pleasurable for her? She had to learn and improve and agree to do more? What about him, obviously the experienced party? ARGH. Not a romance novel hero by any measure. “I would never tell Grandmother. I love you and want you to be happy.”
“If that is true, then hurry up and marry Devonshire so I don’t have to keep attending hell-spawned musicales. My gentleman wants to wed me, he’s told me that several times. I’m tired of waiting, and he’s tired of pretending to bed other women so no one suspects us. We are in love and want to be together. In public as man and wife, not in the shadows as secret lovers who steal moments alone.”
Pippa swallowed a howl of rage. This man had an unyielding hold over her sister, but how much longer before the affair came to light? Secrets like this were always discovered eventually and the scandal would be horrendous; in no small measure because Lady Kingsford was the grand purveyor of ladylike propriety and lashed all and sundry for missteps. But also, that Georgiana expected her older sister to wed a duke she didn’t love just so she could be with this wretch, clawed every last nerve.
“I love you and want you to be happy,” Pippa said again, “but not at my own expense. I’m no marital martyr. Why must I be consigned to a miserable existence so you get your wish?”
Georgiana bit her lip, tears welling in her startling emerald-green eyes. “I just want to be free from Grandmother. Papa could tell her to be silent or leave at any point, yet he won’t. I know he is still so sad over Mother and my heart aches for the loss, but…Kingsford House is killing my soul. I don’t want to be a pretty bird in a cage, I want to feel safe, like Lilian does with Gabriel. If I was twenty-one, I could run away with my own money, but I’m nineteen. Marriage is my only ticket to a wonderful new life, and Papa will only give permission once you are wed.”
Guilt slashed at Pippa, and once again she inwardly cursed her father for putting her in this position instead of just saying not him, Gigi. If you found someone worthy, I would give my blessing. Her sister deserved so much better than a selfish arse; if she ever met this gentleman, he would be given the full villain treatment. Shoved from a castle turret onto spikes. Trampled by a herd of enraged bulls. Dipped in honey and staked to an anthill.
“You don’t have to worry,” she said abruptly. “There will be a betrothal announcement at the soiree.”
Georgiana shrieked. “There will? Oh, Pip! Devonshire will be a good husband. He is so wealthy and will probably be generous with your allowance. Even better, he has all his own teeth, doesn’t creak like an ancient staircase when he walks, and has enough consequence to hold his own against Grandmother. That last point is especially important. He must be a dragon slayer. I know you don’t love him now, but Lilian didn’t love Gabriel when they wed, and look how splendidly that turned out.”
“Mmmm,” Pippa replied, resisting the urge to reveal the plan. It had to be a shock to everyone. “But you must swear one thing and I mean it, Gigi. No more furtive assignations. Because…er…I’ll not have my betrothal overshadowed by the scandal if you get caught.”
Her sister crossed her heart. “I swear. He might be angry to begin with, but I know he won’t mind when I tell him the reason: that soon we can finally be together properly. Oh, this is the best news. The best! I shall count the hours until the soiree. Poor Finlay, though. He will be sad to lose his best friend to marriage. I hope you purchase him an extra-large bag of caramels to ease the blow.”
“Finn’s caramel supply is quite secure, I assure you. Now go and enjoy your hell-spawned musicale,” said Pippa as the carriage stopped in front of an elegant brick townhouse on Clifford Street.
As soon as the footman lowered the step, Georgiana bounded down it, turned and blew a kiss, then hurried into the house. Once the carriage began moving again, Pippa cupped her hands over her mouth, screamed, then sat back against the squab and closed her eyes. Could the Nashes not go one day without giving her heart palpitations? The family rock had been worn down to gravel.
Thankfully Berkeley Square was close by, and soon the carriage came to a halt in front of Gunter’s Tea Shop. And there was Finn, standing under the distinctive pineapple sign and conversing with several smitten ladies who were seated in their carriage, obviously waiting for ices. But when he saw her, he excused himself and crossed the road to join her.
Despite the chilly air, Pippa opened the carriage door so they could speak freely. “Good afternoon. Dare I hope you have ordered me a lemon ice?”
He inclined his head. “It is being scooped as we speak. Hardly any customers today, some nonsense about ices being a summer treat.”
“Ridiculous,” she said happily, as his presence lifted the weight from her shoulders, even with an awkward discussion to follow. “I need an ice more than I need to breathe.”
“Oh dear. What now?”
She shuddered. “You don’t want to know.”
Not even I want to know anymore.
You don’t want to know.
Finn grimaced. That was the trouble, he did want to know, and ease Pippa’s burden. But he wouldn’t press the issue. She told him just about everything; for her to divert a question probably meant a confidence she couldn’t break. And he knew all about that. Abby’s wish to protect her and Nessie’s privacy far outweighed his desire to publicly acknowledge and embrace those he absolutely considered family. Hell, he knew exactly how vicious members of the ton could be, and wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“Poor Pippet,” he said instead, leaning on the railing that separated the grassed area of Berkeley Square from the road. “Sounds like it was a good plan to order you the largest size ice.”
“Yes. Exactly correct,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly before she took a deep breath.
Damnation. All he wanted to do was climb into the carriage and take Pippa in his arms, the way he’d held her in Gabriel’s hallway. But that would ruin her reputation. Until they were officially betrothed and rules were considerably relaxed, the most they could do publicly was her in the carriage and him outside.
Finn glanced across the road at the tea shop, but still no waiter appeared. “I decided to try a different flavor today: brown bread. It might be delicious; it might be dreadful. You’ll know it’s dreadful if I accidentally drop the dish and plead for a spoonful of lemon.”
“I might even share. Half a spoonful.”
“Wicked woman.”
Pippa sat forward. “Oh, Finn, talking of wicked, you’ll never believe what happened. Your chemistry gift arrived. Georgiana thought it was a necklace from her mystery man so took it away to unwrap, then when she saw it was a book, returned it to the mail tray.”
He sucked in a breath. “Do you have it?”
“Right here in my reticule,” she replied, patting it fondly. “Fortunately, we were waiting for the carriage when she told me. I may have scorched the floor I ran so fast to the tray. When I think of someone else picking it up and flicking through…argh. Grandmother would have dispatched Father for a special license from the archbishop, and I would have been married off to Devonshire before the clock chimed noon.”
Finn whistled. “Now that is fortunate. But I’m worried about Little G. Why is she keeping this gentleman such a secret? It doesn’t feel right.”
Pippa’s fists clenched. “I might say he’s a skunk of the highest order, but that would be unfair slander to skunks. Once I discover who he is, he’ll rue the day he was born. And that is all I will say, lest I get myself into strife. Honestly, Finn, if it weren’t for men like you or Gabriel, I would counsel everyone not to bother. Actual heroes are scarce in this city.”
“Lovely,” he said, trying not to blush and failing utterly. “A rousing cheer for romance novels to keep standards high. And here come our ices.”
The deferential waiter handed Pippa her glass dish of lemon ice, then Finn his brown bread, before returning to the shop to wait for his next customer.
Finn stared at the pale brown scoops flecked with darker brown, then dug his spoon in for an experimental taste.
Oh.
How could such a delicious concoction have such a ludicrous, uncomplimentary name? It tasted of caramelized sugar and maple with a hint of malt! What kind of bacon brain called something like this brown bread ice when it could be called ambrosia?
“Finn. You whimpered. Is it that bad? Let me have a taste!”
He held up the dish for Pippa to dip her spoon into. “Here.”
“Good lord,” she breathed reverently, returning for a second spoonful. Then a third.
For the next several minutes they ate Finn’s ice, then finished the lemon, only pausing briefly to wince as the cold made their temples throb.
“So,” said Finn, when not a drop of ice remained and he’d set both dishes down by the railing to be collected by the waiter later. “Down to business. This soiree of Lady Kingsford’s. What are your thoughts?”
“I know one thing for certain. It will be the perfect occasion to ruin Grandmother’s plotting. All the most important people in society have accepted; I think the only ones not coming are Gabriel and Lilian. Grandmother is furious with Lilian, she thought to be undisputed hostess of the Season in announcing one granddaughter birthing a duke’s heir, then another granddaughter scooping Devonshire from the marriage mart.”
Finn snorted. “How did the dowager get so awful?”
“No idea,” said Pippa, shrugging. “But I do know Father marrying Mother for love was his one rebellion against her, and she’s made him pay ever since. Well, made us pay, for we have half Mother’s so-called common blood. Grandmother has tried various tactics over the years, beating it out of us, shaming and belittling it out of us, but now we are of age, she is taking the forced marriages for all approach.”
“Did she succeed or fail with Lilian?”
“Both. Grandmother arranged the marriage; however, she certainly wasn’t expecting them to fall in love, or for Lilian to find her inner lioness. But Devonshire is a much better bet, for she knows him. He grew up in society. The duke is not going to fall in love with me any more than I’m going to fall in love with him. We are far, far too different. So, it fits her idea of the perfect ton union: two ancient bloodlines, duty above all, cool civility at the breakfast table, et cetera, et cetera.”
Finn shivered as a brisk wind whipped around Berkeley Square. Fortunately, Pippa’s carriage blocked the worst of it. “Father is cut of the same cloth. I can almost imagine him and the dowager in a chemist’s laboratory together, adding a pinch of bloodline, a cup of duty, and two sprigs of cool civility to a cauldron while cackling manically.”
Pippa laughed then bit her lip. “Lord Pinehurst accepted his invitation, but will he be there if he is so unwell?”
“Oh yes. Only death would halt him. I do wonder though…perhaps if we announced earlier on in the evening? So he could leave?”
“Definitely. The earlier the better. I don’t want to give Grandmother any opportunity to say something first. But on the other hand, we need as many witnesses as possible. Preferably the gossipiest gossips in London to ensure the news spreads swiftly.”
Finn considered. “Then after the receiving line and all guests are in the drawing room with a drink, but before the entertainment begins in earnest? Don’t want to compete with the string quartet or the dancing.”
“Exactly. How do you want to announce?”
“No theatrics, I promise.”
Pippa peered at him over her spectacles. “Are you sure? Some gunpowder, some flames…perhaps a flock of doves…you could enter the drawing room performing a one-armed handstand on the back of a magnificent stallion.”
“Only if you swing from the chandelier by your ankles before somersaulting into my arms.”
“I can barely see your arms standing in front of you. More likely I would somersault into a potted plant.”
Was it so wrong that he adored their banter? Even after sixteen years it felt like he would never tire of talking to Pippa. He loved every eccentric inch of her. The way she was so damned practical, but also allowed herself brief forays into the absurd. Yes, this was a pretend engagement, but oh, if it were for real…
Finn straightened his shoulders. “To prevent any injuries, preserve our dignity, and save the soiree guests from any rogue doves or explosions, I’ll walk to the center of the drawing room, call for quiet, then ask you to join me. One announcement later, I’ll…”
Kiss you until you swoon against my chest. Then I’ll carry you away to a private spot and pleasure you until you beg for more and we try some of those scenes from The Highland Marauder. Or A Wicked Comte. The filthier the better.
He almost moaned as a barrage of erotic thoughts flooded his mind. That was the trouble with reading so many romance novels; he might not have done these things, but he could imagine them easily and they made his cock so damned hard. It was just as well he wore a greatcoat right now, otherwise Pippa would know his thoughts had wandered far, far away from the realm of friendship. “I’ll…tuck your arm in mine and we’ll accept the well wishes. And fainting. And dawn appointments.”
“I honestly don’t know who Grandmother would shoot first, me or you,” said Pippa. “Probably me, if only out of respect for your father, who she actually likes.”
“As your loyal second, I would distract her. Perhaps I could juggle some Florentine leather dildos or twirl some cock rings on a stick. This would double as an advertisement for Bliss, I must think of my glorious investor.”
She didn’t laugh. “You really would. Can I just say…there is no one I’d rather be pretend betrothed to than you?”
Finn closed his eyes briefly. Had she inched forward toward love? Or would pretend be as far as he progressed? “That is very kind. Now, I hate to be the wet blanket, but I can no longer feel my toes.”
“Go!” she replied. “Get warm. I shall see you at the soiree for The Great Betrothal Quest. I cannot wait.”
“Me either,” he said, bowing, then closing her carriage door.
God help him.