In saying that, though, some paths snatched choices away. Calamities could happen in any childbed, rich or poor. How was Lilian faring? If anything went awry, Pippa would be beyond devastated as they had become much closer since her sister’s marriage. Not to mention, it would break Gabriel.
Finn frowned at his tea cup. He couldn’t stand the thought of Pippa in distress, even for a moment. Nor the duke, who had become a good friend. Perhaps he should go to Grosvenor Square and discreetly enquire if he might be of service in any way.
A quarter hour later, he rapped the brass knocker on the door of the Exton townhouse. Shortly afterward, it opened to reveal a rather harried-looking butler.
“Morning, Turnbull,” Finn said politely.
“Oh! Lord Knighton. Forgive me, we are in a bit of a state here…may I assume you know why?”
He nodded. “You may. Lady Pippa sent me a note earlier. I just wanted to know how the ladies were faring. And His Grace. I imagine this is a particularly anxious time.”
The butler gestured for him to come into the entrance hall and shut the door behind him. “Mrs. Turnbull just informed me that matters are now progressing. However…”
“Yes?” said Finn, his brow furrowing in concern.
“This is indiscreet of me, but I’m not sure if His Grace is doing so well with the wait.”
“Is Hobbs not here?” he asked, referring to Gabriel’s longtime batman turned valet.
“He is,” said Turnbull, actually wringing his hands, “but is currently abed himself with an unpleasant stomach ailment after eating some bad oysters at the Piccadilly market. His dear Mrs. Taylor is attending to him.”
“I see. Perhaps I should go and sit with His Grace?”
The butler’s craggy face lit up. “Please do. I know the family and his staff would greatly appreciate it. We all feel he needs some amiable company to distract him, especially as it still may be hours yet.”
“I understand. They are upstairs?”
“Indeed. Just follow the hallway until you find the campsite. Thank you, my lord.”
Not doing so well turned out to be rather an understatement. Poor Gabriel looked dreadful; his face drawn and black hair disheveled, jacket and waistcoat discarded, and shoes kicked away. A tea tray sat to one side that obviously hadn’t been touched.
Finn coughed in advance so he didn’t startle his friend. “Morning.”
The colonel-turned-duke looked up, his eyes brightening. “Finlay! Forgive the mess.”
“Don’t even think on it. Permission to approach the campsite?”
“Permission granted. Must say, this is unexpected but…very welcome. Does make sense, though. You and Pippa don’t like…being apart. Take a seat…if you dare.”
“That bad?”
Gabriel rubbed a weary hand across his jaw. “You don’t want to know.”
“I’m afraid I already do,” said Finn, sinking onto the chaise next to his friend. “Pippa shared with me all the gut-churning details from the books she read. I confirmed the information with…er, someone I know who has a toddler. If it were my wife in the chamber, I would behave exactly as you are. Except look far worse. Also, I’d probably be surrounded by broken furniture or about a thousand intricate sketches; mindless destruction or ant-like productivity, I honestly don’t know which way I’d lean.”
The duke stared at him for the longest moment. “I’ve heard terrible cries,” he said eventually, his voice turning hoarse. “And Lili wrote a letter. To the babe. In the event she…you know.”
“Christ.”
“I understand it’s sensible. And loving. But…”
“The letter’s existence is utterly destroying you at the same time,” said Finn gravely. “Because she is so central to your happiness you can’t imagine a world without her in it.”
Gabriel tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful. “Ah. I had my suspicions…but it seems I’m…not the only one here…madly in love with a Nash.”
Well. What did he say to that? Nobody knew his true feelings for Pippa, not even the lady herself. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie. Especially after the duke had bared his own soul in this hallway, maddeningly close to their ladies and yet prevented from seeing them by thick walls and a sturdy piece of oak.
Finn cleared his throat. “Just to clarify, not your Nash.”
“I assumed that,” said the duke, smiling faintly. “But while I took…the three-day path to Utopia…you’ve marched how long?”
“Sixteen years. I mean…I was eight when I first decided Pippa was the heroine of my story. But lately there has been significant progress in my quest.”
“Oh?”
“This is classified information, but we are getting pretend betrothed to foil the nefarious plots of Lady Kingsford and my father.”
“Pretend betrothed?” Gabriel let out a low whistle and leaned back against the chaise. “While I am forever in favor…of defeating that dragon…do you have any idea…what you are doing?”
“Not really,” Finn said glumly. “But I am open to suggestions.”
“Have you talked to Pippa?”
“We talk most days.”
“No, I mean really talked. About how you feel. Your deepest secrets. That changed things…between Lili and me. Well, that and scrubbing out…the rot her damned grandmother planted…about certain topics.”
Finn’s cheeks heated. “I think I can guess the topic. Lilian warned Pippa against getting the talk from the dowager, and Pippa snorted and said she’d read enough textbooks and explicit romance novels to feel sufficiently educated.”
“Bloody hell,” said Gabriel. “They really do share everything.”
“Now they do. Because Lilian is happy and free to be herself, away from the evil villain’s clutches…er…”
“Evil villain’s clutches is…factually correct. That is why your pretend betrothal…must work. I take it the dowager…has a husband in mind for Pippa?”
Finn’s lip curled. “The Duke of Devonshire. But he isn’t a passive player, apparently he and his family are most amenable to this particular plot.”
“Formidable enemies in a duke…and the dowager,” said Gabriel, his brow furrowing. “More so the dowager. Be prepared, she will fight hard. And without scruples. Sipping tea all the while—”
A loud shriek followed by a lusty wail interrupted his words, and the duke sucked in a harsh breath as he stared at the birthing chamber door.
“That sounded like a small someone entirely unamused to be out in the cold world,” Finn said softly, holding out his hand. “Congratulations, papa.”
“I…ah…thank you…” Gabriel choked out as he shook it. “Have to get to Lili.”
“Give them a few minutes before you take a battering ram to the door. And don’t use your shoulder, it is oak.”
The duke laughed, dashing a sleeve across his glistening eyes. “Pippa offered the same advice. Never knew my shoulders…were so highly regarded. But thank you again, Finlay. For keeping my sanity intact. And know…if you need help with your quest…just call on me. I can’t think of…a better match for Pippa. Lili has always thought so.”
“Your support is greatly valued,” Finn replied, warmed by the offer.
He could only hope that one day Pippa saw him in a different light, the betrothal became real, and he and Gabriel would be family in truth.
Lilian was a mother.
Pippa leaned against the sturdy wooden post of the large bed, grateful for the support as her mind whirled with this momentous new fact. Dawn had changed the sheets, given her mistress a warm sponge bath, then dressed her in a fresh chemise and nightgown. The physician’s assistant was swaddling a cherub with a shock of black hair, blue eyes, and the sweetest rosebud mouth that had already proven to have the volume of a fishmonger. Probably the only sprightly person in the chamber was the physician, who had done little more than drink tea, make notes, and occasionally peer under the sheet to say ‘hmmmm.’
What an experience.
Those books, for all the jaw-dropping information provided, still had not prepared Pippa for the overwhelming reality of birth. To start, Lilian had made sounds that went quite beyond the realm of human. Also, no one talked about the bloodied crime scene standard of mess; the boulder-crushing grip a woman pushing out a babe possessed, the copious tears shed or the creative curses bellowed. But then came the stark wave of relief when it was safely over. And now, a priceless, unforgettable moment as the assistant placed Lilian’s baby in her arms. Love. A mother and newborn staring into each other’s eyes, enraptured, was love in a very pure form.
“I really do apologize for the state of your hand, Pippa.”
She turned and looked at Lilian, who lay propped up on a pile of pillows with her tiny daughter curled against her chest. Then she glanced down at her swollen, bruised left hand. “I have an adorable niece to show for it. But really, I feel this birth was a missed opportunity. We could have put you to work retrieving blood from stones.”
Lilian laughed then grimaced. “Please, no jests. I feel like I tumbled down a cliff and was run over by a cart at the bottom.”
“Understandable,” said Pippa. “It’s been the longest of days. Did you and Gabriel discuss names, or did you want to wait and decide after the birth?”
Her sister hesitated. Then she said, “We thought perhaps Amanda for a girl. After all her aunt’s help, I believe Pearl would be an appropriate middle name. Lady Amanda Pearl Jordan-Ives.”
Moisture blurred her eyes. Pippa Pearl and Amanda Pearl would be two peas in a pod, obviously. But Amanda had been their late mother’s name. Of her four children, she had been closest to Lilian, the two of them always laughing and romping about in the gardens of the Kingsford country estate. The light had gone out in Lilian’s eyes after Mother had passed; Gabriel’s love had sparked it back, and now having a daughter together made it a fitting tribute.
“Well,” Pippa stuttered, as she took a deep breath. “Grandmother’s head will in fact explode, so it couldn’t be more perfect.”
“That is what I thought,” said Lilian angelically. “Now, if I could request one more favor; you fetching Gabriel? Before he tries to break down the door? My poor husband has enough scars on his body already.”
“Consider it done. And…I’m so happy for you both.”
“I know. You’ll be a wonderfully eccentric aunt.”
“I do swear to be exceedingly eccentric,” Pippa replied, adjusting the quilt around Lilian and Amanda before trudging toward the bedchamber door. Gracious, but her hand throbbed and her legs felt like syllabub.
She unlatched the door and tugged it open, the words on her tongue faltering at the sight of one immaculately attired viscount sitting next to a disheveled duke on the hallway chaise.
Finn was here. Thank God he was here.
Both men rose to their feet. Pippa attempted to make a sound like a herald’s trumpet; it more resembled a dying frog making its final croak. “Good afternoon,” she announced. “I am delighted to advise that the Duchess of Exton has been safely delivered of a healthy babe, and is eager to make introductions, Your Grace.”
Before she could react, Gabriel wrapped her in a quick, tight hug. Just as quickly, he disappeared into the bedchamber.
“Pippet,” said Finn, stepping forward. “While I’m grateful they are all well, how are you faring?”
She swallowed hard against an unwelcome rush of emotion. But there was no halting it, and like a rain-swollen river bursting its banks, tears began to pour down her face. “It was beautiful,” Pippa sobbed. “And horrific. I’m happy. And tired. And hungry. So very glad it’s over.”
“Do you need a hug?” he asked quietly, holding out his arms.
For the longest moment a war raged within; Pippa Nash was an indestructible stone tower that did not require coddling. Crying was bad enough, what if someone saw her succumbing to further weakness?
Yet his chest looked so firm.
Eventually, like a battered ship seeking safe harbor, she fell against him. Finn’s arms closed around her, and one hand began rubbing her aching back in a surprisingly soothing manner. Oh, this was nice. A minute. She would permit coddling for a minute, then they would never speak of it again. “My hand hurts,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “It got crushed. Not my reading hand at least, but it still hurts.”
“Oh dear. Let me look at it…Good God. Someone needs to inform Gabriel his wife is part lobster. Or vise. This needs to be bound with arnica at once.”
Pippa grunted, the only sound she could manage. A nap would be the most splendid reward in the world and Finn’s shoulder was precisely the required height for her head. Gabriel was too tall, but Finn was just right. And he had a pleasing scent about him. Not perfume or Sandalwood, but clean linen, some sort of herbal aftershave, and yes, caramels.
She snuggled closer and let out a slow breath. Finn really did have a splendid chest. Firm but not too firm. Was it smooth like some of the heroes in her novels, did he have a smattering of crisp hair, or a full pelt? It was hard to guess. His forearms weren’t especially hairy, but the hair on his head looked luxuriously thick and soft.
Perhaps she should settle him on the chaise, slide a hand under his waistcoat and cravat, undo the single button that fastened his fine linen shirt, and set to work finding out. Most novels implied that a bronzed, smooth chest was best, but in The Highland Marauder, the fiery Frenchwoman loved the rasp of the reclusive laird’s chest hair against her aching nipples. She could try that. Some fabric pushed aside, a single button undone, and a thorough exploration could begin. Then he could lift her gown and do some exploring of his own…
Pippa jerked back from Finn. Clearly the day’s events; a dash to Grosvenor Square followed by Amanda’s birth had completely addled her mind. Right now, she was acting as foolish as the Regiment who followed Finn around like a row of ducklings whenever he was out and about. “Forgive me. I think I almost fell asleep standing up.”
He smiled, but his gaze remained wary. “That you snuffle is a secret I shall take to the grave. I can escort you home if you like. Don’t want you taking a hackney alone in your current state; you might end up in Scotland with a frightfully large bill.”
“Yes please. Best that I not arrive home in one of Gabriel’s carriages, then everyone will know where I’ve been and begin another magisterial interrogation in the library. The official announcement is certainly not mine to make.”
“Let’s leave the new parents in peace, then.”
Pippa poked her head around the bedchamber door to wave to Lilian and Gabriel, who were enduring a lecture from the physician. Gabriel was on the bed, one arm about Lilian’s shoulders and the other cradling his daughter, so could only wiggle his fingers. Lilian sleepily blew her a kiss. Then Pippa gratefully took Finn’s proffered arm and shuffled down the hallway. When they reached the staircase, the space was near-deserted now after being a hive of activity earlier. The servants she did see had rather odd expressions on their faces.
She came to an abrupt halt. “What on earth is wrong with them all? They do realize Gabriel and Lilian are delighted to have a daughter?”
Finn scowled. “Many noblemen are complete arses about baby girls. But they are wonderful and precious…er, I’m sure the message will get to the servants shortly, especially when they see how happy their duke is.”
Pippa chewed her lip in confusion as they descended the staircase. While she already knew that despite his rakish reputation Finn treated ladies very well, she’d never heard him speak so fervently about babies before. It seemed a bit soon to feel that way about Amanda; he’d not even seen her. And Finn didn’t have any brothers or sisters, or cousins for that matter, for both his parents were only children themselves.
How odd.
Unless…he had a daughter?
Her whole body rejected the thought. No. She and Finn always told each other everything. They always had. There was no way he would keep a secret baby hidden.
He didn
’t tell you about his pleasure toy business…
Shuddering, Pippa mentally slapped herself. Now she was just being ridiculous, for he had explained that. After a nap and an enormous slice of cake, she would feel better.
Besides, when her mind wasn’t so foggy, they had to prepare for the grand betrothal reveal at Grandmother’s soiree. No doubt that, on top of everything else, was affecting her usually robust and logical thought process.
Once they got that out of the way, all would be well.
Chapter 4
When a man had matters of the heart pressing on his shoulders and muddying his mind, there was only one thing to be done.
Eat his weight in chewy caramels.
Finn pushed open the door of his favorite Bond Street confectioner and walked inside. It was not only warm and brightly lit, but a range of delicious scents like burnt sugar, bitter chocolate, and sharp citrus surrounded him like a beloved friend’s embrace. The confectioner’s assistant called out a cheerful greeting then ushered him to a well-padded leather chaise to wait.
“Your usual order, Lord Knighton?”
“Please,” he replied.
It fascinated him each time, watching the lad carefully scoop a pile of golden caramels into a large paper bag then secure it with an elegant knot of twine. Next, he took a small paper bag and added a penny’s worth of marzipan plus a few extra on top, then decorated it with a short length of narrow pink ribbon—Miss Wabbit’s current color du jour—for Nessie. The young man performed his duties with the gravity and precision of a surgeon yet all the flair of a florist, and Finn was always tempted to offer him a job at Golden Square. But that would cut off his caramel supply, truly the best in London, so he held his tongue.
THE BEST MARQUESS: Wickedly Wed #2 Page 5