Page 89 of The Best Marquess

She was going to die.

Chapter 18

He thought he’d known fear when the pistol was waved at Abby.

But now it was pointed directly at Pippa.

“Campbell,” Finn said, terror sharpening his tone far more than he wished. “Put the damned gun down.”

“I hold the weapon,” said the baron smugly, as he deliberately cocked the pistol, “therefore, I should be the one issuing the instructions. And my instruction is, each vile, lewd item in this den of sin will be destroyed. Every single one, into the fire. Your father would be proud of my industriousness.”

“No doubt you are correct,” he lied as he inched closer, trying to get between Lord Campbell and Pippa. Xavier and Mr. Gordon had discreetly cornered Sir Edwin who looked much less defiant than a few minutes earlier. “I…strayed onto the wrong path.”

“You did. Young rakes, the bane of London. Turning all the ladies’ heads. Even the married ones. Why can’t you just use the actresses like a respectable gentleman? They don’t matter…oooooowwwww.”

In other circumstances, it might have been comical to watch Abby stab the baron’s trouser-clad leg with a short chisel used to shape dildos. But as the older man hopped around, clutching his thigh, the cocked pistol waved about in his other hand like a deadly flag. And he was still so close to Pippa. If he accidentally shot her…

Finn took a ragged breath. No. He had to get that gun by any means necessary. He had to be the hero. No one else in the room was close enough, and now that Abby had created the distraction, he could make his move.

The baron kicked Abby, and she sprawled backward. “Guttersnipe. You belong with the rats I told you about, alongside Lady Pinehurst who has her common mother’s bad blood and is unworthy of the Nash name.”

“How dare you,” snarled Pippa, darting forward, one fist raised as though she meant to hit Lord Campbell.

Abruptly the world seemed to slow, everyone moving and speaking like they swam through molasses. Lord Campbell once again pointed the pistol at Pippa, and Finn hurled himself in front of her, directly at the baron, just as a gunshot cracked.

As the sound echoed in the sparsely furnished parlor, Finn landed heavily on the wooden floor, the wind knocked out of him and his ears ringing like he’d been tied to Cheapside’s Bow Bells. Now his damned shoulder hurt. Had someone punched him? Had he landed on the chisel?

As he lay on the floor, his foggy head whirling with confusion, he watched Nicholas knock Sir Edwin unconscious with a brutally efficient blow to the jaw, and Xavier rather expertly wrest Lord Campbell to the ground and secure his hands behind his back. But when Finn tried to get up to assist, his limbs did not cooperate. Gah. How embarrassing.

Then he saw Pippa struggle unsteadily to her feet. He’d knocked her over with his ungainly leap. “Forgive me, Pippet. Bad form.”

His wife screamed, pointing at him.

Finn frowned as his teeth began to chatter. Why was there an odd scent in the room? It smelled like the time he’d caught his knee on a nail and a gush of blood had made a small pool…ugh, his shirt was wet. “I’m sweating,” he muttered in disgust.

Pippa dropped to her knees beside him, then gently lifted his head into her lap. “Finn? Can you hear me? Finn!”

He stared up at his wife. Of course, he could hear her. Well, in truth he would hear her much better if his ears stopped ringing and his teeth stopped chattering. And now the sweat was making his shirt stick to his chest. This was more than embarrassing; it was downright humiliating. Some hero he’d turned out to be.

“I’ll send for a physician and fetch some bandages,” said Abby sharply. “In the meantime, Pippa, take off his cravat and press it on the wound. Do that now. Lady Campbell, you come with me. Lady Campbell? Now!”

“I’ll fetch a constable,” said Xavier, crouching next to him. “You just stay still, Pinehurst. Let Pip tend you. Mr. Gordon has seen to Sir Edwin, so nothing for you to worry about. Well, apart from your wife, of course. I think you’re about to get your ears burned off, old chum.”

“Are you angry, Pippet?” Finn mumbled.

“What did I say to you earlier?” she said hoarsely, her face starkly pale. “I specifically said I would be very, very cross if you were hurt. Then you go and throw yourself at a man with a gun!”

“You like acts. Not just words. Had to show my love.”

Pippa cradled him tighter. “Listen carefully. You may not leave me. I won’t stand for that. I haven’t…I haven’t said things. Haven’t told you how I feel. But I know what is true. It is so clear. Well, it was clear earlier but I had to confirm, of course.”

He blinked heavy eyes at her. The pain in his shoulder was getting worse now, like someone had stabbed him. He tried to lift his left arm, but it still wouldn’t work. Then he tried his right arm. That moved, but when he touched his left shoulder, he gasped. Was that…blood? “What is true?”

“I love you. You are my sunshine. My grand passion. My hero. You are the man I one day wish to have babies with, because let me tell you, Finlay Charles, I would not undertake all that damned nonsense for months then endure labor, for just any gentleman. Only you. The man who makes me laugh, holds me during storms, and dries tears. Who sees me. Who thinks I’m beautiful with spectacles and messy hair and introduced me to the kind of pleasure I only ever dreamed about. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to open my heart to love. But I have. With my Finn. I love you forever and ever after. Just like in the novels.”

Finn beamed at her. “Darling Pippet. I’ve always loved you. And I certainly hate to put a dampener on the moment, but I think I’m bleeding—”

“Beg pardon, madam. If I could just get closer to the patient? Much obliged.”