Page 35 of The Best Marquess

“Every hour of every day. It’s been nearly eleven years, but sometimes still feels as fresh as a week. Mother was most displeased with the match and thought I should wed again to sire another son, but that wasn’t for me. Once you’ve met your great love, that’s it. Well, in my opinion anyway. So I made a vow. Happy marriages for my children. I was concerned for Lilian, especially because her match began to repay my debts after some bad investment decisions. But Exton minds that now and he’s a genius, so all’s well that ends well, as the bard says.”

Startled at the earl’s unexpected candor, Finn stared at his brandy glass. He’d not expected the tale of the countess proposing; in truth it was difficult to fully recall Pippa’s mother now, for she had passed when he’d been away at Eton. But one point he could very much relate to: meeting your great love and deciding that was that.

“I was eight,” he said abruptly, looking up and meeting Kingsford’s gaze. “When I knew.”

The older man smiled. “Pippa’s a good girl. Strong as an oak which has been wonderful for the family, but she needs to open her heart to delicate sensibilities as well. She’ll be a good wife, I’m sure. On that note, may I ask how Pinehurst is faring? I received some documents to sign, and have been trying to set up a meeting with him, but his secretary insists he is indisposed. The marquess did look rather ghastly at the soiree, though.”

The back of Finn’s neck prickled. His odious father wouldn’t try and sabotage this after the announcement, would he? Nothing good could possibly come of him and Lady Kingsford putting their heads together…

“Father has been under the weather for a few weeks now. I’m sure he’ll be available shortly—”

“Kingsford. Knighton.”

Finn’s heart sank at the curt words in a familiar peevish tone, and he reluctantly turned his head to acknowledge Lord Campbell. How fortunate, trapped in an enclosed space with one of the two men he wished to see least of all. All the occasion needed now was Devonshire demanding satisfaction, Prinny singing, or perhaps a flock of angry geese storming the club, for actual purgatory.

Both Finn and the earl stood and inclined their heads.

“Campbell,” said Finn crisply.

Lord Kingsford’s placid gaze rested on the baron. “Er…would you like to join us? I’m sure it wouldn’t be any trouble for a chair to be brought over.”

“Not really appropriate in the circumstances; Knighton once again seducing another fellow’s lady,” snapped the baron, flicking a speck from his brown jacket sleeve. “But I have a large party joining me, so may need these chairs. Perhaps once you’ve finished your brandy, you’ll favor us with a swift departure.”

What an arse.

The ladies of the ton might have applauded and kissed his cheek over the romance of an unexpected drawing room declaration, but it seemed the men were irritable as old barn cats. Although in fairness, quite a few also thought he’d bedded their wives.

“Indeed,” said Lord Kingsford jovially. “After we’ve finished our celebratory brandies. Good day, Campbell.”

As the baron frowned then moved away, Finn raised an eyebrow. “That was brave of you, my lord. Right now, I am persona non grata, as Pippa would say.”

“Bah. Campbell is only happy when he has something to complain about, and he knows damned well that Devonshire could crook his little finger and half the women in London would line up to accept the ducal coronet. Also, in that His Grace has spoken to Pippa for a grand total of an hour in his entire life, I think perhaps his heart remains intact. As I said earlier, I want happy marriages for my children. If that means Pippa is a viscountess rather than a duchess, so be it. Speaking of happy marriages, though, I must ask a delicate question.”

“Go on.”

The earl sat forward in his chair; his expression earnest. “I know your father’s stance on this topic. And that you are…er…very popular with the ladies…”

“If you’re asking whether I have a mistress, the answer is no. I don’t intend to have one, either.”

“Capital,” said Kingsford, obviously relieved as he took out a linen handkerchief to dab at his perspiring brow. “I know I’m an oddity among my peers, but I don’t admire the practice. Unless it is agreed by both parties, not all like marital relations. But the ton is weakened by too many loveless unions, in my humble opinion. Money and duty make cold bedfellows…oh, listen to me, rambling on and not allowing these chairs to be uplifted for Campbell’s party.”

Unable to help himself, Finn laughed. Then he raised his brandy glass. “To loving marriages. And your continued good health, my lord.”

“I will drink to that.”

If she couldn’t take a tour of Finn’s Bliss premises, the next best option would have been reading A Wicked Comte while eating a nice slice of rich fruit cake.

But no. Instead, she had to endure a salon with a group of society matrons.

And it was not progressing well.

Pippa glanced around Lady Voyce’s parlor and tried not to shudder at the décor; a startling array of purple shades from lilac to deepest violet, like the entire room had bumped into the corner of a table and bruised itself. Everything was purple, right down to the teapot on the tray. And the cakes.

Under no circumstances would she eat a purple cake. Nor would she be participating in the reputation destruction of those not present. If this was what it meant to be a ton matron, she would pack her bags and move to…well, someplace warm with lots of books. Or at least find a salon in London comprised entirely of free-thinking romance novel readers. Not all groups were as unpleasant as this one, surely.

“Pippa, dear,” drawled Lady Voyce. “I know we are all wondering, so I must ask: whatever were you thinking, choosing Knighton over Devonshire?”

All eyes fixed on her. It was like the magisterial panels in her father’s library except a thousand times worse. Some of the ladies were studying her with genuine curiosity. Some were scornfully shaking their heads; while others were openly relieved, for they had daughters to marry off. Only two gazes held any traces of pity; Miss Natalie Voyce, a plump, shy brunette she had first met the previous Season and become friends with, and Lady Campbell, the silver haired baroness who had congratulated Finn at the soiree.