Page 53 of The Best Marquess

“Abby!” he said walking forward with his hands outstretched.

She stared at him for a bit, then sank into a curtsy. “Lord Pinehurst.”

Nessie frowned. “Not Piney. Sweetie.”

Unable to stop himself, Finn chuckled. Nessie didn’t know he was her uncle, for the sole reason that small children had a unique ability to blurt out secrets at the worst possible moment. While she probably called him Sweetie solely because he brought her marzipan, a part of him stubbornly believed it was for love alone. “Clever Nessie. You have the right of it, I won’t be Pinehurst officially until after the funeral.”

His niece relaxed and held up Miss Wabbit. “Kiss.”

After the past week, something so normal and simple as this greeting ritual was as welcome as rain to parched earth. He leaned down and pecked the cloth rabbit on its dusty cheek, then opened his arms as Nessie wriggled to get to him for a hug. She smelled of rain and lavender soap and toddler, there was a smudge of berry preserve on the hem of her linen smock and he almost lost his composure. “It is very, very good to see you, little miss.”

Nessie patted his cravat. “Sweetie.”

Abby’s eyes danced with laughter. “Stop mining for marzipan, you scamp. Play with Miss Wabbit on the rug there.”

“I have a tea tray coming,” said Finn.

“That is kind. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Travers, that’s the butler, has been informed that you and Nessie are welcome at any time. Please, take a seat. Let’s talk. There is much to discuss.”

“Is there?” said Abby, her gaze turning suspicious as she gingerly perched on the chaise next to him, while Nessie hopped her toy up and down on the floor.

Travers returned with a full tea tray, including some lemon marzipan squares, and placed it on the low table in front of them, then discreetly withdrew without offering to pour. Finn was grateful for the man’s unflappable nature; it seemed only his arch nemesis Cunningham truly ruffled his feathers. But he hoped Abby would agree to some sort of family connection identifier, otherwise the servants would be speculating she was his mistress or some such foolishness.

God. Even the thought of Pippa hearing that made his insides shrivel up.

“I’m glad you came,” he said gruffly. “I know it wouldn’t have been easy.”

“There are no other circumstances that I would set foot in this place,” Abby replied. “But I wanted to see how you were, and a letter seemed too impersonal. Inherited the title and married Lady Pippa. Or should that be the other way around?”

“At Father’s command, I wed Pippa by special license beside his sickbed, then I inherited yesterday morning.”

“Oh God. Finlay…”

His vision blurred, and he angrily dashed a hand across his face. “No need for sympathy, far worse things than having an ancient title, multiple estates, and a large fortune. Abby, I swear…do not look at me like that. I’m barely holding onto my sanity here.”

“There is no shame in crying,” she said kindly.

“I have nothing to cry about! I should be dancing a jig. Cartwheeling down the street. I hated h-him…”

To his horror, he choked on a sob, and Nessie glanced up. Frowning, she hopped Miss Wabbit up his leg and into his lap, took two marzipan squares, then clambered up herself.

“Shhhhh, Sweetie,” she cooed, patting his cheek before attempting to feed him the marzipan.

Tears began to trickle down his face, and he muttered a curse.

Abby took his hand. “Do you know I cried when I saw the death notice in this morning’s newspaper? Not because I mourned him. Because of what might have been, if he’d had a heart. I thought having no father was the worst outcome. But you had his spite and games of control every day. I never envied you. Not for a minute. He rejected my mother before I was even born, so she had to make the best of it. While she worked herself to death, another thing I will never forgive him for, I was fiercely loved, even when we had nothing but a damp, cold room and stale bread to eat. That might not have happened if Mama had been subjected to him for a long period of time. I’m grateful she wasn’t.”

“I’m going to purchase the house in Golden Square,” he said abruptly as he rubbed his niece’s back. “With the deed in your name. I will also open a bank account for you and Nessie, into which I’ll pay a quarterly allowance. You won’t ever have to worry about food or rent or money again.”

“Finlay…”

“Don’t argue, Abby. Security is the least I can do.”

“I well…ah…” his sister blinked furiously. “Damn it. Aristocrats are awful. How are you so loveable?”

“Because I surround myself with good women. My wife, who is also my best friend. My mother. My sister.”