Page 76 of The Best Marquess

And with that, Abby bobbed another curtsy and she and Nerissa left the room.

Finn slumped onto the chaise, then leaned forward and lifted the teapot from the tray. “Tea?”

She let out a slow breath. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They exchanged hopeful, tentative smiles.

Perhaps, just perhaps, everything would be well.

“Afternoon, Pinehurst. Thank you for meeting me. I know you prefer to exercise indoors.”

At the irreverent hail from his brother-in-law, Finn laughed and patted his horse, who was, in truth, more excited about the outing than him. But after taking tea with Pippa, she had gone upstairs to supervise the redecorating of her new bedchamber. He’d been at a bit of a loose end, and a ride out in the fresh air sounded tolerable enough. Besides, he did have fond memories of Hyde Park after his interlude here with her.

“Afternoon, Northam,” he replied. “I was happy to get the invitation. Between the rites of mourning and learning my new responsibilities as marquess, I’ve not been getting out much. Although I must say, I certainly have greater freedoms than Pippa.”

Xavier skillfully brought his mount to a halt beside him. Damn it, how did his brother-in-law always manage to make haphazard look so elegant? If Finn grew his hair longer, wore shirts with lace cuffs, or tied that half-knot with his cravat, he would resemble someone who’d woken up in a gaming hell alley at dawn. With probably a lot worse than a quill stuck to his forehead or ink staining his fingertips. “I don’t think my favorite twin is losing any sleep over the lack of soirees in her life.”

“True,” said Finn, as they began an easy trot down the tree-lined path of Rotten Row. “But I have to ask. Is this a general companionable ride with your second favorite brother-in-law, or do you have something to discuss with me?”

“Why would you assume you are second favorite?”

Finn snorted. “Even I would choose Gabriel over myself. I like him a great deal. And he loves Lilian so.”

“He really does. They’ve overcome a lot together, which is most admirable, and he dotes on baby Amanda. But to answer your question, does it matter whether this is a companionable ride or private discussion?”

Well. Further proof that the young viscount truly did not like being questioned. Did he ever provide a direct answer? Or was his entire conversation deflection with lashings of charm?

“You didn’t answer the question, you asked a new one,” said Finn lightly. “But my enquiry is innocent, I swear.”

Xavier’s lips twisted briefly, as though recalling an unpleasant memory. “Innocent enquiries don’t exist.”

How curious.

“Well, mine is,” said Finn with a shrug. “Just need to know if I can ride in my usual ungainly manner, or if we are being observed by foreign spies or some shadowy branch of the government. If that is the situation, I will try to sit up straight and uphold the pretense that all English gentlemen possess superior equestrian skills.”

Now, Xavier relaxed. “That is a stunningly Pip-like reply. Very well. I shall admit to offering an invitation for both amiable companionship and discussion. I take it you know she reads romance novels?”

“Of course. It is a habit I strongly encourage and indulge in myself.”

“I see. The word on the street is that a London business called Bliss imports explicit novels translated from French, and also distributes them. Pippa received one at Kingsford House, and several other ton ladies also received a book personally addressed to them. I find it entertaining; however, it seems elsewhere pearls are being clutched to powder. Have you read the latest scandal sheet?”

“I haven’t,” said Finn carefully, trying to remain loose-limbed in the saddle. Horses were intuitive creatures; if his tone changed or he became too rigid, his mount would notice and become equally unsettled. Far more unnerving: the way his brother-in-law was watching him, as though waiting for a full confession of criminal activity. Exactly how much did he know?

Once again, Xavier expertly brought his horse to a smooth halt; Finn did the same with decidedly less grace. Then the viscount reached into the pocket of his bright apple-green jacket, and removed a folded piece of newspaper. “Here. Read for yourself.”

Finn reached for the scandal sheet, anticipation and dread coiling together in his stomach. Pearl-clutching could perversely provide a wonderful boost in sales for Bliss. But if he or their true address in Golden Square had been revealed…Abby, Nessie, and the staff there could be at risk from protestors. Or even more dangerous, the moralistic arses who loved to dictate the lives of other people rather than examine the abyss-like emptiness in their own souls.

He opened up the piece of newspaper.

LONDON LEWDNESS

Objectionable Novels Sent to Ladies—Husbands Vow No More Bliss

Scandal, dear readers! This author has learned that Mayfair is all-aflutter after several high-ranking ladies unexpectedly received gifts of shockingly explicit novels from a new business called Bliss. Far worse, the gift also included an order sheet for items of an extremely personal nature, enjoyed by those with deviant proclivities. While said orders can only be placed via a post office box, indignant husbands have vowed to expose the shamefully wicked culprits and close the business for the good of the city…

Finn stared at the words until they blurred together. The headlines might be amusing, but never would he underestimate the threat of indignant husbands.

“Interesting,” he said, striving for a tone both polite and a trifle baffled.