Page 38 of The Best Marquess

“No note. Good day, my lord.”

Finn’s gaze narrowed as he judged the angle of staircase and height to swing himself up and around the elderly woman to get to Pippa. “I should like to see for myself whether a physician is necessary. I care very much for my betrothed’s health.”

“Pippa is resting. Now, are you going to leave, or must I call for footmen to escort you out of my entrance hall?”

“Ah,” he said pleasantly. “You are vexed that the plots with Devonshire were unsuccessful. Tis most unfortunate that you care nothing for your granddaughter’s happiness, only about your position in society. Well, you grossly underestimated how bold and brilliant Pippa is. And how I would do anything at all for her.”

Lady Kingsford reared back, like a snake about to strike. Then she laughed. “Oh, you think you’ve won. Foolish boy. You will regret interfering in my plans. Now get out.”

Finn gritted his teeth as she continued past him, stopping to speak to a footman and point in his direction. He didn’t believe for a minute that Pippa was indisposed; she was rarely ill and had been quite well yesterday. If it were true, she or Ruby would have sent a note requesting some treat to make her feel better.

This was punishment, pure and simple.

But he couldn’t stand here cooling his heels, or try and run up the stairs. This was not his home and now several footmen were watching him. He would think of another way to get to Pippa and try again tomorrow.

Once outside, he climbed back up on his curricle, and tapped the reins to move away from the Kingsford townhouse. Returning home now wasn’t an option after he’d made such a performance of going to see Pippa, so his only choice was to drive around London for a while, like the thwarted swain he was.

Three hours later, after he’d purchased more caramels, recommended titles to a group of eager matrons at Hatchard’s Bookstore, and passed by Gunter’s on the small chance Pippa had gone out to clear her head, Finn admitted defeat and returned to Hanover Square.

Only to find a plethora of carriages outside the Pinehurst residence.

As soon as he pulled up, Travers dashed out to greet him.

“My lord. Thank goodness,” said the butler breathlessly.

Finn jumped down from the curricle seat, then two footmen led the horses away. “What is the matter? Whose are those carriages?”

“It’s Lord Pinehurst. He’s taken a turn for the worse. Cunningham summoned a physician. And er…the lawyers. And bankers.”

He gaped at the butler. “What? Where is my mother?”

“In her bedchamber, my lord. The physician dismissed her from his lordship’s presence after she became a trifle…hysterical.”

Finn pursed his lips. And he’d thought being barred from Pippa’s side was the worst that could happen today. Nodding to Travers, he hurried upstairs. As his father had stopped visiting his mother a long time ago, the connecting door between their chambers was always locked. She couldn’t even push it ajar to listen.

He knocked on her door. “Mother? It’s me.”

Soon it swung open, and she threw herself against him. “Oh Finlay,” she sobbed. “You’re home. There are so many people here and they won’t tell me anything. But I think it is bad. Very bad. My husband…your father is dying.”

DYING.

His head spun, and he clutched the doorframe.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “Father just needs rest. You’ll see. I’ll go and find out what is happening. And tell them if they ever disrespect you again, they will be out of this house. Now, sit by the fire and warm up. Your hands are like icicles.”

“Yes, Finlay,” she choked out. But her eyes were still wild, so he escorted her over to the chaise and sat her down, then covered her with a light woolen blanket.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he promised, turning on his heel and leaving her chamber for the marquess’s one next door. Finn’s knock was no more than perfunctory, and when his father’s valet opened it, he swiftly stood aside to let Finn enter.

God. There was a small crowd gathered, all surrounding the oversized bed. Two lawyers, two bankers, and two physicians, all whom he recognized, but Cunningham sat in the corner as well.

“Gentlemen,” Finn said brusquely. “Tell me exactly what is going on.”

All turned and bowed, then the two stout, silver-haired physicians moved away from the bed to give him room. “Good afternoon, my lord,” said one.

He sucked in a harsh breath. His father lay propped upright on pillows, still as death, his face ashen and his eyes closed. “Is he…?”

“No, no,” said the other physician hastily, as he mopped his brow. “I took the liberty of administering some laudanum to help your sire rest easier. Though I’m afraid the news isn’t good, my lord. When we examined him, his breathing was shallow and his heart weak. I believe we’ll know in the next few days if he is to recover…but I fear you and her ladyship may need to brace for the worst. If we’d been summoned earlier…”