Page 73 of The Best Marquess

“You’ve done sterling work,” said Finn when they were finished, presenting each of them with a shilling for all their hard work. “I didn’t think it would be possible to purchase a mattress and two chairs within a day.”

The youngest footman gave him a cocky grin. “You got to know where to shop, my lord. My second cousin has a warehouse over in Cheapside that imports fancy furniture from Paris and Florence. That’s where we got them fine leather chairs. Down the street from that is another cousin’s shop, and they sell all a body needs for a good night’s sleep. Fine Irish linen, goose feather pillows, embroidered quilts, and mattresses. So, we went there as well. You need anything else, just ask me. I can find you the best quality for a fair price anywhere in the city.”

Amusement bubbled. “Duly noted. But you have no desire to work in the family business? Er, businesses?”

“No,” said the footman, shuddering. “We have a bargain. I send them customers with the blunt to buy nice things, they stop nagging me to get married.”

Finn laughed. “Fair enough.”

Another footman added, “It did help that we had a money purse, my lord. Merchants get real friendly and obliging when you clink coins. They remember the mattress that has just been finished, or the chairs with the supple leather that are sitting in the corner display.”

“I’ve no doubt. Thank you.”

The servants bowed and curtsied, then hurried from the room.

Finn strolled over to one of the newly purchased cushioned chairs which now sat in front of the fireplace, and sat down. Then sighed deeply, for it was like being embraced by a light brown leather cloud. All other chairs in the household, apart from this one’s matched pair, would forever be inferior.

He closed his eyes and wallowed in comfort for several minutes, then blinked and surveyed the room with a critical eye. While the changes pleased him greatly, it would still take a while for this bedchamber to truly feel like his. In truth, if it weren’t for the fact that he and Pippa had wed in here, the room would hold nothing but bad memories. So many belittling lectures, endless criticisms of his clothing, hair, manner, and activities, and sharp scoldings for whatever misdeeds his father deemed he had committed that day.

It had been excruciating, and knowing it wasn’t just him, that his mother had endured the same, did not make him feel any better. But now they were both free of the man’s long, dark shadow. As were Abby and Nessie. Now, they could all go forth and make their own mark on the world, and anyone who thought that he would follow in his father’s pleasure-hating footsteps would have to just swallow their disappointment and carry on, as stoic British gentlemen apparently did.

A knock at the door startled him, and he glanced over to see a downstairs maid standing there, an apologetic look on her face. “Yes?”

“Beg pardon, my lord, but Mrs. Overton and her daughter are here and asked if you might see them. She says it is a matter of some urgency, regarding, er…trinkets?”

Finn valiantly tried to conceal his surprise, and a little trepidation. They had just spoken yesterday. It would have to be something out of the ordinary for her to visit here again. “Please escort them to the blue parlor and say I’ll be with them in just a minute. Oh, and a tea tray please.”

The maid curtsied. “Yes, my lord.”

After putting on a black jacket, and giving his unruly hair another comb, Finn strode down the hallway to his old bedchamber and tapped on the door, thinking to invite Pippa downstairs to meet Abby and his niece. But Ruby informed him that she was napping, so he continued on downstairs to the parlor. It was one of the nicer rooms in the house, his mother had decorated it with pale blue silk walls, landscape paintings, and chairs that weren’t like sitting on solid stone. It was also perfectly placed for noon sunshine, and today the weather was trying hard to oblige.

“Good morning, Finlay.”

“Good morning, Abby,” he said, leaving the parlor door slightly ajar behind him. She sat perched on a chaise with Nessie fast asleep on her lap, a full cup of tea and half-eaten cream cake in front of her. “I’m afraid Pippa won’t be joining us; she is feeling a bit poorly. But what has happened since yesterday?”

Abby drummed her fingers on the arm of the chaise. It was such a familiar gesture; if the circumstances were different, he might have smiled. “In today’s post we received four bibles, six essays on the wages of sin, a drawing of romance novels being burned…and a dead rat. In a box. With a note that read, and I quote, To the misguided owner of Bliss, when you conduct business in the realm of the sewer, you must expect rats.”

“God damn it,” he said, sickened if unsurprised at how prudish and ridiculous people could be when it came to pleasure. But that was London for you; the full range of beliefs. Some would yell and wave a placard in your face…and some would send dead rats to a post office box. Would Lord Campbell or Sir Edwin be so crass? “I’ll hire some more footmen for security today.”

“And craftspeople. We need craftspeople. Bridget has reached out to some other artists and jewelry makers in her circle of acquaintances to see if they would be interested in regular work. She thinks at least several will come forward. Oh yes, and she has some ideas on how to achieve a smoother finish with the nipple clamps. Have you thought of offering plain ones, without adornment? Bridget likes to wear them under her sculpting smocks.”

“Does she now?” he replied, his lips twitching wildly.

“Don’t you dare laugh, Finlay.”

“Who me?”

Abby clasped her hands together and stared at the teapot. “Bridget is…special,” she mumbled. “I’ve never met anyone like her. Do you know, I thought I’d lost my mind when I was so attracted to her after only bedding men. But I know some of Mama’s friends in the theater bedded men and women and it was unexceptional. Have you met anyone in the ton who does so?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “I think it’s more common than we could ever imagine. But people must be cautious with their love, what with the church and the law forever wanting to dictate events in the bedchamber and punish those who want something else.”

“It makes me wonder right now, how many men who are good friends or women who are companions are in fact lovers.”

“Countless. Well, the ones who have the mettle to ask another to supper or to a musicale or Vauxhall Gardens at least. Certainly not those who gnash their teeth and use their daughter as a shield because love is unnerving.”

“Don’t you dare preach to me about love, young man.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her.