Page 68 of The Best Marquess

“So married life is going well?”

He grinned. “Excellent. Truly. Pippa took charge of the menus and we redecorated that hideous library, which I’m planning to fill with romance novels and textbooks. My wife is inordinately fond of both. And we have tried out a number of the toys and accessories, and she has given me some extremely helpful opinions. I’m planning to go to my inventing room now and do some tinkering.”

Abby pointed a quill at him. “I’m convinced your ideas would be twice as brilliant if you tidied that room. It’s as messy as Bridget’s sculpting studio. Creative types, forever wallowing in chaos.”

“You sound like Pippa. But creative geniuses like Bridget and me will not be diverted by foolishness like tidying,” he said, winking as he sauntered out the office door.

After trotting down two flights of stairs, Finn greeted a few of the staff who were enjoying a cup of tea in the kitchens, stole a freshly baked raisin bun, and made his way to the inventing room.

Shit. It really was a mess.

He’d been far too lust-blinkered last time to notice. Hopefully Pippa had been also, for nearly all available surfaces were covered in demi mask design sketches. Piles of boxes containing translated romance novels were stacked against one wall, there was a collection of empty teacups on the floor, half the candelabras needed fresh candles, and several partially-finished clay models of cock rings sat on his desk. On another table there were leather samples in a variety of colors and grades from tanners eager to do business, and rather hilariously, a lone jade dildo he’d been sanding to improve the shape was clamped in a vise.

Perhaps he could do some tidying. Then compare the leather samples and see if one of them would suit as a belt for the double dildo, as Pippa had suggested.

Finn took a large bite of his raisin bun, then began to stack sketches.

He would clean so well, even his wife would be impressed.

How did that saying go? Curiosity killed the cat?

In this case, curiosity had broken her heart. No. Shattered it into a thousand pieces.

Pippa braced one hand against the cold stone wall of the tiny mews, wishing she’d never made the journey to Golden Square. Wishing she’d left Lilian’s parlor as soon as her grandmother entered the room, instead of having her entire world turned upside down and crushed beneath the unforgiving hammer of reality. It was one thing to hear the words, especially from a forked tongue like Grandmother’s. It was quite something else, however, to have those words confirmed with her own eyes.

Finn had a mistress. And a daughter. Not a baby, but a toddler. And he loved them both very much; she’d witnessed the easy, warm affection as he’d scooped the little one up and skillfully settled her on his hip. As he’d held the redhead against him. The knowledge that her husband loved another woman hurt like a dagger to the soul, but perhaps even worse was the knowledge that he’d been lying to her for years. For the first time in her life, Pippa the rock wanted to curl up under a blanket and weep.

“Pippa? Pippa! We’ve stayed here too long already; I really think we should go before anyone sees us loitering.”

She opened her eyes and stared almost uncomprehendingly at Natalie. Her good-hearted friend had offered to accompany her here and such support had been invaluable. But now Natalie’s looks of anxious concern and her sympathetic arm pats, might well bring on that prolonged bout of weeping before she could retreat to an empty room. “Yes. Er…what?”

“We cannot stay here,” said Natalie more firmly, but still gently, the way one might speak to a woman in hysterics.

Good lord. Was she having hysterics? That would be another first.

“Am I screaming?” Pippa mumbled in embarrassment.

Natalie shook her head. “No, thank heavens. The last thing we want is the neighbors running to see what the matter is. But you are leaning against that mews like my uncle leans against the mantelpiece after he’s had a dozen brandies…forgive me, Pippa. I don’t know what to say that will make you feel better. When you told me what happened at your sister’s, I prayed that your grandmother was wrong, I really did. But…”

“So, it wasn’t just me who saw them?”

“Alas not. A pretty redhead and a sweet toddler, both who are held in great affection by Lord Pinehurst. The only other explanation is family, and you said there aren’t even any cousins.”

“No,” said Pippa dully, so numb inside she could barely feel her fingers and toes. “His late father was an only child, as is his mother, and Finn…Lord Pinehurst…has no brothers or sisters. The dowager marchioness couldn’t have any more babies after him. He told me that. And everyone would know if the old marquess had an illegitimate child. The way he railed against immorality and unwed women with swollen bellies…the scandal sheets and opposing politicians would have hounded him out of London for such hypocrisy.”

“Indeed,” said Natalie miserably. “My uncle isn’t one for gossip, but he said the previous Lord Pinehurst lectured your husband many times about his, ah…companions.”

“They didn’t get on. At all.”

Her friend chewed her lip. “Come on, Pippa. Before the hackney driver gives up on us and leaves. If Lord Pinehurst returns for his horse, we won’t be able to explain what we are doing here. And we’ve seen more than enough.”

“I know.”

Pippa stumbled on a stone, and as though she’d just been rescued from a stormy ocean, Natalie put an arm around her waist and walked her back to the hackney. The driver took one look at their expressions and his weathered face fell. “Bad end to the quest, eh?”

She managed a nod; the man had been more than obliging in first following Finn at a discreet distance, and then waiting for them on the corner while they crept closer and peeked around the mews to spy like a pair of incompetent Runners. “Something like that, sir. I wonder if you could please return us h-home?”

“Sure…here now lassie, he ain’t worth your tears. Come on up to your seat, let’s away from the scene of the crime.”