Page 42 of The Best Marquess

Finn glanced unwillingly over at the bed, and as though his father understood the reluctance, raised one hand a few inches above the quilt and impatiently beckoned Finn over.

With all those in the bedchamber now staring at him, he could only obey.

“Yes, Father?” he said, kneeling next to the bed and trying not to wince at how feeble the man looked. Pinehurst might have opened his eyes, but they were bloodshot, he was perspiring heavily, and his breathing sounded hollow and ragged at best.

“Knighton,” the marquess croaked. “My…son. Heed me.”

“I’m listening.”

“Follow my steps…to a righteous path. You could be…so much better. Banish your mother…to the country. Before she embarrasses the name…further.”

Finn almost ground his teeth to powder. How very Pinehurst; even on his deathbed, no expression of love or request for absolution here, just the usual spiteful criticism. “I hear you.”

“I’ve left…instructions…” the marquess paused as he was overcome by a coughing fit and his whole body convulsed. One of the physicians swiftly stepped forward and spooned a small amount of laudanum into the side of Pinehurst’s mouth, and soon he calmed again. “Knighton…do one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Marry the Nash gel. Now. So I know…it is done. So I know that you will not falter.”

Shocked, he glanced at Pippa, who returned the look with equally panicked eyes.

“We’re at home, Father,” he said quietly. “In your bedchamber. The banns haven’t even been read yet.”

“Damned fool. I know where I am. The special license is in my desk drawer. I arranged it…after the soiree. Knew you would forget. Kingsford signed it for the gel.”

“That is true, Lord Knighton,” said the archbishop, his brow furrowing. “I thought the license was done on behalf of yourself and Lady Pippa with your full knowledge and consent. Is that not the case? After that public declaration, I believed you two to be a love match that simply couldn’t wait.”

Feeling pummeled once again, Finn rubbed a hand across his face. He’d thought before that he knew about being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, but now his father, his odious monstrous arse of a father who had caused him lifelong misery…was the person offering him the one thing in the world he wanted: the chance to marry Pippa.

And he couldn’t do it.

No way would he force or manipulate her into a wedding. It was supposed to be a special day of celebration and love and respect. One to be remembered fondly. “Father, I—”

“Marry her. Good blood…on her father’s side. Mother was fertile at least. Do something right…for once in your life. Before I die.”

“But…ah…don’t we…” stammered Pippa, her face starkly pale, “Don’t we need to wed between eight in the morning and noon? Isn’t that the law? It’s nearly five in the evening!”

The archbishop shook his head. “Not with a special license, my dear, do not fret about that. You can wed anywhere at any time. It is all legal and valid as long as the bride and groom are of age or have parental consent, the license is approved by me, and there are witnesses of good standing, of which we have plenty.”

Without warning, Lady Pinehurst grabbed Pippa’s hand and near-dragged her over to Finn’s side. Then she dropped to her knees. “Please, Finlay. Please, Pippa. I’m begging you. Do as Pinehurst asks. Oh p-please. Get married. Here. This evening. I will send servants to fetch your family, Pippa. And a suitable g-gown. My husband has given his blessing. The archbishop is here. Please. It might…it might be his final wish…”

A thumping headache threatened to split Finn’s skull. Everyone in the room was frowning at him now, wondering what kind of monster didn’t leap at the chance to wed his publicly declared lady love, to please his dying father and his pleading, tearful mother. Yet only he and Pippa knew why he made no decision. Not for the world would he force her to do something. Unlike their grand plans of undoing the pretend betrothal when the Season was over and Lady Kingsford’s plots ran out of time, a marriage couldn’t be dissolved without an act of parliament. Marriage was, to all intents and purposes, forever.

“Finn,” said Pippa, in a low voice. “Do you want to wed me?”

What on earth did he say to that? He’d loved her for sixteen years.

Pippa and no other.

“Yes,” he blurted hoarsely. Helplessly. Hating himself for putting her in this position, even as he yearned for it.

She nodded. “Very well. I’ll marry you. Tonight.”

Chapter 9

What was she even doing?

Pippa stared at the looking glass in Lady Pinehurst’s lavish bedchamber, which her future mother-in-law had eagerly ushered her into to get ready for the ceremony.