Page 65 of The Best Marquess

Her sister grimaced sympathetically as she leaned over the low table between them to pour cups of tea. “A betrothal, a bedchamber wedding, and a funeral, here’s hoping the rest of February offers calm waters. I wish I could have assisted you with the mourning process. All those visitors, ugh.”

“It was a never-ending parade,” said Pippa irritably. “And I’m bloody annoyed that I must wear black for the next three months for a man I despised. He was cold enough to Finn in public, but in private was downright cruel. As for those visitors, if one more had simpered that the old marquess was noble or virtuous or a crusader against sin, I would have shoved them off the nearest balcony.”

“Sounds ghastly. Wait. I didn’t even think of it before, but you are Pippa Pearl Pinehurst.”

“I know. It is a ridiculous plethora of P. If I were mathematically inclined, I could just write P cubed as my signature—”

“Good morning, sisters!”

Pippa glanced up at Georgiana’s too-chirpy greeting, ready to tease about tardiness, but the words froze on her tongue at the sight of the woman following her sister into the parlor.

Grandmother.

She raised an eyebrow at Gigi and received a dark scowl, confirming that the extra visitor was not by her choice.

“Grandmother,” said Lilian stiffly. “I don’t recall inviting you.”

“A disgraceful lapse in judgement, but I have decided to be charitable and forgive you,” said Lady Kingsford, settling herself onto a chair. “Now you may pour me some tea.”

“We only have three cups.”

“Then I will take Georgiana’s. She doesn’t need it, or any of those cakes. The gel is already verging on unfashionably plump.”

Gigi made a brief stabbing motion behind their grandmother’s head. It was hard to know whether Lady Kingsford remained unaware how close she sailed to the jagged rocks of dowagercide on a daily basis, or if she just didn’t care.

Sitting back so she wasn’t tempted to hurl the plate of cakes at the elderly woman, Pippa winked at her younger sister. “I’m glad to see you, Gigi. And as anyone in London would attest, you look scrumptious.”

Lady Kingsford smoothed her gown. “That tone is unbecoming, but I suppose you look well enough, Pippa. And a marchioness now. Not as good as a duchess, but what can one do when a perfect match is ignored?”

“I married the right man,” she replied, endeavoring to keep her voice calm and even.

“He is a rake and a scatterbrain. Has Pinehurst even petitioned the Lord Chancellor for a writ of summons yet?”

Pippa nodded smugly. “He has.”

That had been something else she’d learned. An heir didn’t just wander into the House of Lords and take the seat after their father passed. There was a formal process, where they had to prove they were the legal heir, over the age of twenty-one, and a member of the Church of England. If and when the Lord Chancellor accepted the proof, the new peer was sent a writ of summons and could appear in the next session of the House to make his official oaths and declarations.

“Well,” said Lady Kingsford smiling slightly. “That is something in his favor at least.”

The back of Pippa’s neck prickled. Oh no. Not the shark smile.

“Finlay is a wonderful man,” said Lilian warmly. “I’m so happy to have him as a brother-in-law.”

“Me too,” said Georgiana. “Even if he doesn’t shower me with gifts.”

Lady Kingsford reached for a currant bun from the tray and took the tiniest nibble. “I must say, I am surprised and disappointed to hear that. One would have thought you’d show your sister some family loyalty when her husband flaunts his mistress and child right under her nose.”

As though all the air had been sucked from the room, the three sisters gasped.

“What?” said Pippa sharply, as anger began to boil in her veins. Could she not just be happy without the devil’s unofficial handmaiden trying to destroy it in some way? “How dare you!”

“Finlay doesn’t have either, and to say such a thing is nothing short of slander. I think you should leave,” said Lilian, glaring at their grandmother.

“It is not slander if it’s true,” said Lady Kingsford. “Pinehurst keeps a townhouse in Golden Square.”

Pippa’s breath escaped in a rush. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I know about that house. I’ve even been there and taken a tour of the business.”

“How crass, even for Pinehurst. Did he introduce you to his mistress, or was she kept hidden? I understand she is a pretty redhead who goes by the name of Abby or Mrs. Overton.”