Page 28 of The Best Marquess

Finn bit back several expletives. He could practically feel Pippa’s indignant mortification at the question while they stood on a damned balcony and a packed soiree continued behind them. Why did his sire have to be such a pig? Could they not have one night about joy rather than fucking duty? “You’re looking pale, Father. Perhaps you should go home.”

“I’ll take to my bed when I’m good and ready,” Pinehurst snapped, holding onto the doorframe as he began coughing. Then he returned to the soiree without so much as a gesture of farewell.

“Your father and my grandmother might be quite different in age, but they have a lot in common,” said Pippa archly. “She thinks of me as a walking, talking womb as well.”

“I can only apologize. It’s the same line of the play Mother gets attacked with.”

“Poor woman…brrrr it’s freezing out here. This scarlet gown might look like purgatory perfection, but it really isn’t that warm.”

Finn laughed and tugged her back into the drawing room. “You look deliciously devilish.”

Pippa halted and looked up at him. “I meant what I said. About trying some things.”

“Then let us try them together,” he replied, the words escaping before he could haul them back.

“I think you should take me out for a jaunt in the curricle tomorrow. Bring a heavy blanket for our laps.”

He almost moaned. “As you wish.”

The weather might be bleak and cold, but alone in her chamber, Pippa burned.

Once again, it was all Finn’s fault.

That kiss.

Everything about the previous evening had been entirely too theatrical; from the race to announce to the villainous Lord Pinehurst asking about her menses. But while her mind was mud, her body knew with perfect clarity that it wanted more kisses. And not just that…orgasms.

It probably didn’t help that she’d also read several more chapters of A Wicked Comte. Good lord. In one scene, he’d stormed the solar and backed the princess against a wall before lifting her gown and rubbing her clitoris until she came. On another occasion when the princess defied him, the comte had spanked her bottom then ordered her to suck his cock. While he had spilled his seed on her breasts and massaged it onto her taut nipples, she had been denied release and left quivering with feverish need.

When Pippa eventually fell asleep, her dreams had swirled up with scenes from the book, she as the princess and Finn the comte. Rather than two characters indulging in lusty play, it was Finn stroking between her legs and making her come. Finn ordering her to suck his cock. And she’d loved it.

But today she was going to experience what an orgasm provided by another person felt like in reality, and who better to do that than her discreet, good-hearted, experienced friend? Best of all, it wouldn’t change anything between them. Finn would just continue his rakish ways, she would return to her books, and the world would be happy.

The hours until their arranged curricle ride seemed to take years, but once she was dressed in her favorite cerulean blue gown, heavy wool pelisse, stockings and kidskin half-boots, and carried a wide-brimmed bonnet, reticule, and leather gloves under her arm, Pippa went downstairs for breakfast. The dining room was blessedly quiet and empty; Grandmother preferred to take her tea and toast in her chamber, while it was a trifle early for Father, Xavier, or Georgiana.

Excellent. She had no desire whatsoever to endure a reckoning right now. That could at least wait until the afternoon.

After perusing the sideboard stacked with warming dishes, Pippa helped herself to a hearty breakfast of coddled eggs, two thin slices of ham, buttered toast, and a cup of chocolate. Certainly no baby birds this morning. Then she sauntered to the entrance hall, flicked through the mail tray, and waited by the front door for Finn.

“Good morning, Pippa. Off for a jaunt, are we?”

Somehow, she suppressed a shriek at her father’s words. What on earth was he doing up and about? He usually slept until at least ten o’clock. “Good morning. You’re up early.”

Lord Kingsford shrugged. “Fair bit to accomplish today. You might not have heard, but my second daughter announced her engagement at her grandmother’s soiree and caused quite a stir. I’m expecting a lot of correspondence, not least of which may be a curt note from the Duke of Devonshire.”

“The duke can be as curt as he likes,” Pippa retorted. “That plot was entirely between him and Grandmother, not something I desired. I am betrothed to Lord Knighton and that is that.”

Her father smiled faintly. “Well, yes, but as the dusty law tomes say, until you reach your majority, you do require my permission to marry.”

She flushed. Only a fool tweaked the nose of a potential ally. He might be as steadfast and decisive as a newborn kitten, but no one else had the power to sign legal documents. “Forgive me. I am just…very excited.”

“I know. Thought Knighton was never going to come up to scratch. But he did at last, good lad. Apart from Mother and Devonshire being annoyed, the only other problem is what Gigi will do next.”

Pippa folded her arms. “Just say no. You know who the gentleman is.”

“Except I don’t. Not really. Only heard a few vague rumors of who Gigi has been talking to at parties. But they aren’t pleasant rumors. I just hope they don’t reach Mother, for she certainly won’t approve.”

“I agree.”