Page 17 of The Best Marquess

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.”