Page 67 of The Best Marquess

Abby groaned. “It vexes me that is actually plausible. You wouldn’t believe the things I fish out of that mouth on a daily basis. Dirt. A button. A farthing. A bug. I swear I clean like a sinner trying to avoid purgatory and yet…”

He frowned. “Abby?”

When his sister’s shoulders slumped, Finn dashed forward and wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her into a tight hug. Much like Pippa, she rarely cried, so for her to break down, he could only imagine how bad things were.

“Mama sad,” said Nessie anxiously, leaning over to kiss her cheek and leaving a sugary orange mark.

“Mama is sad,” said Finn. “Is it something in particular, or just one of those days?”

Abby dashed a hand across her eyes. “Not so much sad as overwhelmed.”

“Is it Bliss-related?”

“No. I…let’s go inside. A bit cold out here for a confessional. The sun might be trying to shine, but it is February not June.”

Finn shifted Nessie to his other hip and followed Abby into the townhouse before shutting the door behind him. His niece was burrowing against his shoulder and starting to hum to herself rather than digging into the paper bag for more marzipan, a good indication she would soon be fast asleep. “Talk to me.”

His sister placed her hands gently over Nessie’s ears. “I may have accidentally bedded a friend.”

“Why is that overwhelming? Is the friend married?”

“No. The friend…is…ah…”

“Just say it, Abby. This coin-chewing marzipan moppet and her rabbit companion are getting heavier by the minute.”

“The friend is Bridget.”

Finn nodded slowly. Bridget was a talented sculptor who lived in the townhouse next door, and on the occasions he’d seen them together, the mutual attraction had been obvious. But when he’d suggested that Abby invite her to the theater or an intimate dinner for two, his sister had told him quite sharply that she did not fancy other women. “I see.”

“How do you see when I don’t? Nessie’s nurse was here and I had a free hour so I went next door for a cup of tea. One thing led to another and…”

“Accidental bedding. So, when are you going to see her again and explain that you do in fact fancy her, but it’s all very new and confusing and exciting so please be patient?” he asked.

“I’m not. I mean, I can’t. Nessie—”

“Don’t hide behind your daughter. That sounds like a convenient excuse not to talk to Bridget. Was your cup of tea so bad that she must be avoided?”

Abby’s cheeks went bright red and she rubbed her arms and looked away. “No. But anyway, you’re a bold one to offer romantic advice, Lord of the Best Friend Pretend Betrothal Turned Bedchamber Marriage. Have you told your wife that you love her yet?”

“Yes. Well, in a way. She didn’t hear me.”

“Ha.”

Finn scowled. “Good things take time. Let’s take this miss upstairs and put her to bed while I still have a functioning arm.”

After tucking Nessie in her crib with Miss Wabbit, they walked back down to Abby’s second floor office. She kept the place as neat as a pin; every ledger, document, employee contract, sales docket, invoice, and order had its place in the large locked cupboards that lined the walls. They each had a desk, and in the east corner another locked cupboard held their money safe.

“We’ve been getting a lot of orders since sending out those samples,” said Abby proudly, as she showed him a stack of papers. “I thought the madams might order the most, and they are, but those in the ton are not far behind. It’s been rather interesting seeing who wants what. Some are shockingly unexpected.”

Finn snorted. “When I visited Theresa Berkley at the White House for some expert advice on the most comfortable and practical flogger grips, I also asked how she manages threats and protests. Theresa told me the ones who squawk loudest either have a recurring appointment, or want to examine every discipline room and hear every story in lurid detail. That dear lady knows as much about moral hypocrisy as anyone. It was timely advice, for a group of Father’s cronies not only want to close pleasure clubs, but also Bliss.”

His sister made a growling sound. “Lord save us from the do-gooders. We have received a few angry notes alongside all the orders, but I burned those. In saying that though, as well as the post office box for privacy, I do think it would be prudent to hire a few burly footmen for added protection.”

“Agreed. Success is one of those double-edged swords; we want Bliss to become well known, but it only takes one determined foe following our deliverymen, and next thing there is a melee in the square. The only people I want here are employees, you and Nessie, Bridget, and myself and Pippa. Who, by the by, I really would like you to meet.”

Abby sat at her desk and propped her chin on her hands. “Very well. Next time you bring her here, I will meet her. I do feel a lot better about it now the old marquess is dead. And that I have a house of my own. It’s like two great burdens have been lifted from my shoulders.”

“You’re not the only one who feels like that.”