Page 72 of The Best Marquess

She’d read countless times to wed your best friend; that friendship was the strongest base for a long and solid union. She had literally done that, albeit under unusual circumstances, but it had all gone horribly wrong. In truth, Gabriel and Lilian had the right idea: an arranged marriage, wed three days after meeting, learn everything as you go along, be expertly bedded and end up falling madly in love. Then after that, have an adorable baby girl not for lineage or another wretched family alliance, but just because you wanted to have a child with the person you adored.

The sound of heels clicking on the wooden floor provoked her to sit up, and seconds later Ruby barged back into the bedchamber, full tray in hand.

“Food!” called her maid. “I saw Lord P, he said you should eat, then meet him in the marchioness’s chamber to discuss your décor preferences. It actually sounds rather exciting. Just think, an entire room to suit you and no other. Colors, fabrics, furniture…all you. Not your grandmother, your mother-in-law, even your husband…only you.”

Pippa nodded as Ruby placed the tray on the table beside her. Although her stomach remained unsettled, she forced herself to eat the toast. It tasted like ashes in her mouth and she was grateful for the tea.

Once she had smoothed her gown, and Ruby had brushed out her hair then neatly arranged it in a chignon fastened with pins and a jet-studded clip, Pippa ambled down the hallway to the marchioness’s chamber. She’d only been in the room twice; getting ready for her impromptu wedding ceremony and being measured for further mourning gowns, so hadn’t taken more than a perfunctory look at the colors and furnishings. But now she was here, it might not be the worst task in the world. Never had a room been decorated and furnished to her exact specifications, with her likes and dislikes in mind.

“Good evening, Pippet,” said Finn, from where he stood next to the large arched window overlooking Hanover Square.

Oh God.

How could he even call her that after spending nearly all damned day with his mistress?

“My lord,” she gritted out, bobbing an ungainly curtsy. “You wish to discuss my new lodgings?”

Finn’s brow furrowed slightly, but he gestured around. “I think you’ll be very comfortable in here. Plenty of room, natural light to read, nice fireplace, soft bed. All it really needs is a writing desk for your correspondence and a plethora of cushions. Oh yes, and bookshelves. You must order whatever you wish, no matter what the cost…”

He was being so kind; she truly couldn’t bear it.

“Anything?” Pippa snapped. “What if I wish for a pleasure club madam’s boudoir? To raid the Duke of Devonshire’s greenhouse and steal so many potted plants the room resembles an untamed jungle? Construct a miniature pirate ship in the corner complete with skull and crossbones and trunks of body parts?”

Now Finn just looked startled, as if he was shocked by her burst of temper. She itched to yell and pummel his chest and demand to know how a man who claimed to love her could hurt her so.

“It is your chamber,” he said eventually. “Do as you please.”

“I will, thank you,” she retorted. “Have you made any décor decisions regarding your new room? Must I make an appointment to visit, perhaps slip a calling card under the door? There is the matter of the heir you’ll eventually need.”

His jaw clenched. “I am not my father. The door won’t be locked…what on earth is the matter, Pippa? Has something happened that I don’t know about?”

She closed her eyes briefly. There was yet another issue, he wanted her to just say the words and she couldn’t. Not yet, anyway, when her thoughts were so damned jumbled. No way in the world could she have a calm, rational discussion, free of theatrics and tears at this time. “I am…very tired. Earlier today, I went to Lilian’s house to see her and Georgiana…but Grandmother decided to attend also. Things were said. Things that cannot be unsaid.”

“Oh no,” Finn replied, his expression turning sympathetic as he stepped forward. “Poor Pippet. Honestly, I’m quite tired as well, perhaps we should get supper on a tray and tuck ourselves into bed.”

No. No. Absolutely not. She could not share a bed with him tonight. Not after where he’d been.

“I cannot,” Pippa blurted. “I have…er…my menses have arrived. I feel dreadful. Perhaps you could sleep in the marquess’s chamber tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He reached out a hand but she avoided it, instead dashing out the door and near-sprinting back to his old bedchamber and hurling herself onto the bed.

No doubt she would become well used to wetting a pillow with tears.

After the worst night’s sleep possible in his father’s too-firm bed, and without Pippa curled around him, Finn was in the foulest of moods.

He was also extremely confused.

Not that he understood every intricacy about menses, but why would she insist she had to sleep alone? He wasn’t squeamish about blood, and if it was painful, he could fetch her towels warmed by the fire to wrap around her belly. Or some sort of tonic to ease the gripes. Perhaps she thought he would insist on bedding, even when she did not want to?

The way she had avoided his touch and run from the room…

Finn scowled at the looking glass as he finished arranging his cravat. Excellent. Somehow, in the space of a day, his wife thought he’d turned into a selfish monster.

“My lord? The new furniture has arrived.”

He turned and beckoned the footmen hovering in the open doorway of the marquess’s bedchamber. “Bring it all in. Thank you.”

For the next few hours, a procession of footmen and maids, supervised by Mrs. Travers, transformed the room. It was rather astonishing the difference cream-colored curtains, thick blue striped rugs, soft mattress with fresh linen, and modern furniture carved of a lighter wood made. Already the space appeared brighter and more spacious instead of pretentious and forbidding.