Page 83 of The Best Marquess

“Where is it written that you have to do it by yourself?”

“Well yes, there are staff, but I still have to oversee—”

“No, you handsome, delicious twit,” she said impatiently. “I meant me.”

Finn tilted his head. “I was about to say something foolish like the reading of ledgers and reports and documents would be excessively dry, but then I remembered to whom I was speaking. Pippetus Latinus.”

“Precisely…oh, do let me help, Finn. Your sister is an experienced bookkeeper, we could ask her to give me some training, then I will be able to study the estate ledgers with a learned eye. I will ensure we never experience what Gabriel and Lilian did with that crooked butler and his cronies committing fraud. Let this be another part of the new Pinehurst era. A marchioness who is valued for her mind as much as her womb.”

“I adore your mind. It is my second favorite thing about you.”

Pippa flicked his kneecap and water sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the tub. “Bah. The first is my pussy, I suppose?” she said, huffing out a breath.

“Your spectacles,” he mumbled.

“Beg pardon?”

“Your spectacles. There are few certainties in the world, but I know you peering over your spectacles at me will still make my cock hard when we are in our eighties. Just so there is no confusion though, I also cherish your perfect pussy.”

Pippa stared at him; her gaze thoughtful. “You’ve always liked me just as I am. Never wanted me to be taller or have bigger breasts, curlier hair, or bluer eyes. Not with different hobbies or less salt. Never told me I read too much and to go outside.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “From that first moment you shared your ice with me, I knew you would be the center of my world. No one else could possibly compare to the mighty Pippet.”

She visibly swallowed. “Well. Well. You know, all of that sounded rather like a convoluted way of informing me that yes, you will share the burdens of being a marquess. Obviously, I cannot sit in the House of Lords, more’s the pity, but everything else. Then you will have time for Bliss.”

“If that is what you wish, then I’ll gladly give you half the paperwork. I’ll purchase another desk for the library; then you can study ledgers, estate reports from stewards, contracts and invoices, until you mutter about creditors and crops in your sleep. Compensation for the position shall include pleasure toys, explicit romance novels, and paper flowers.”

Pippa sniffled. “I think that might be the best employment offer in the history of the world. I should like to discuss this further, however my skin is wrinkling and my stomach will soon rumble loud enough to make the city fearful of another pending storm.”

It took time and dexterity, but they eventually managed to haul each other out of the copper tub without saturating the floor further. Pippa wrapped herself in her dressing gown and dashed to her own room to get dressed, while he succumbed to his valet’s pleas to shave his ‘pirate jaw.’

A half hour later they walked arm in arm down the stairs, both trying not to wince.

“Definitely no more copper tub for two after vigorous fucking,” Finn muttered.

She laughed. “We look so prim and proper and somber in black, not a couple who plays with nipple clamps and dildos. Now I wonder how many other prim and proper and somber couples take tea and talk about the weather after some light bondage or a stern flogging.”

“Considering the number of orders we received at Bliss, and how popular pain play clubs like Mrs. Berkley’s are, I’d say hundreds. I mean, it might be a corset making the portly gentleman move stiffly at the ball…or it could be the fact that his mistress just caned his arse red.”

Pippa nodded. “It could be nerves making the young widow squirm…or the fact that a masked gentleman just handed her a note telling her to meet him on the balcony, because he cannot wait any longer to lick her pussy.”

Finn halted on the stairs and turned to her. “You are,” he said, curving one hand around the back of her neck and kissing her, while being careful not to brush against her sore nipples, “a very wicked wife.”

“Yes,” she replied, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. “Fortunately, I have an equally wicked husband. However, if I’m not fed, I will turn from delightfully naughty to just plain feral.”

“Can’t have that. To the dining room!”

Hell. If it wasn’t for the fact that his muscles ached and his backside remained tender, he might strut like a peacock. Yes, it had taken sixteen years to achieve his dream, but the reality of Pippa as his lover, and his wife, was even better than he’d hoped. The way they could just…say anything and have it understood. Be irreverent or serious, demanding or tentative. And even when they made mistakes, know they could ask for forgiveness and atone, because their marriage had a strong, sturdy base of mutual care and affection.

He was certain I love you would come eventually. He just had to be patient. Pippa had already made such brave steps to advance beyond her quite understandable walls. Besides, she was a woman of actions rather than words. In the same way he craved to hear her declare her love, he needed to do better at expressing it with deeds.

When they entered the dining room the scents made his mouth water; apparently, he was just as ravenous as Pippa. The kitchens had outdone themselves and the sideboard near-groaned with dishes: toasted bread and butter, marmalade and berry preserves, coddled eggs, sliced ham, and sautéed potato. Next to the food were two pots, one of tea and one of chocolate.

Pippa glanced at him, her eyes glinting. “Well, here’s my breakfast, is yours still coming?”

“Sit down and behave, Lady Pinehurst,” he admonished. “Or there will be no new toys for you.”

“Yes, my lord husband,” she replied, with such false demureness, that he rubbed his jaw to halt a laugh. They did have an audience of footmen after all.