Page 74 of The Best Marquess

She wiggled her equally thick ones back, and soon they were both shaking with helpless laughter. Unfortunately, they were loud enough to wake Nessie up, who gave them both a supremely disgruntled look before unleashing a wail.

“Yes, my husband is rather humorous, isn’t he?”

Dismay curled in his gut as Finn’s gaze darted to the parlor door to see Pippa standing there, her face ashen and fists clenched. He’d never heard such a tone from her, one practically brimming in hurt fury. “Pippa—”

“Oh, you do remember who I am. Reassuring that I haven’t been entirely replaced…how could you, Finn? How could you bring your mistress and child here? Again?” she finished, her chin now quivering even as she valiantly attempted to lift it in haughty disdain.

His jaw dropped. Pippa thought…

Oh fuck.

Nessie whimpered and resettled herself against her mother’s chest, shoving her thumb in her mouth.

Abby began to rock her. “Perhaps I should go.”

“No,” said Finn firmly. “Stay. There are introductions to be made. Come and sit down, Pippa. Now.”

They had a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter 15

Pain. Unimaginable pain.

It had been devastating enough seeing Finn and his other family at Golden Square, but here? In the damned parlor? Their marital home?

And now he expected her to take tea with the woman?

The questions buzzed in her mind like a hive of wasps, each stinging without mercy. But what could she do other than sit? If she fled the battle, her husband’s mistress would win another victory, this time on enemy soil, and that could not be borne.

Pippa marched into the room, her back ramrod straight. Although her insides were a crumbling, pitiful mess, not by so much as an eyebrow twitch would this redheaded interloper know the truth. Grandmother’s relentless lessons about how a Nash behaved in public had to come in useful at some point in her life, and it seemed this was the day.

As she perched stiffly on a chair, the other woman rose to her feet, her adorable child peeping at Pippa with wary eyes. Wonderful. Now she was a harpy who upset toddlers as well as a wronged wife. Could the floor of this serene blue parlor just save them all some time and swallow her up immediately?

“Good afternoon, Lady Pinehurst,” said the woman politely, bobbing a curtsy before sitting down again.

“Tell my wife who you are, Abby,” said Finn. “The explanation you are comfortable with.”

She couldn’t help thinking that Abby was an oddly ordinary name for a mistress. Didn’t they usually have bold, theatrical monikers? Come to think of it, this Abby was neatly dressed in a practical, bronze-striped calico gown rather than expensive velvet or silk. Had Finn been miserly in his patronage? Would that change now?

Stop thinking. It’s not helping.

“I know who she is,” said Pippa woodenly.

Finn, her lying skunk of a husband, gave her a startled look. “You do?”

“Apparently everyone knows. Well, Grandmother knows, and if she does then most of London does or they soon will. But I didn’t believe it, so followed you when you went to Golden Square yesterday. My friend Natalie Voyce, Lady Voyce’s niece, was with me. I thought we were best friends, Finn. But best friends don’t keep secrets like this, and you’ve had so many opportunities to tell me.”

“It wasn’t Finlay’s secret to tell,” said Abby.

“Oh?” snapped Pippa, hating the fact the woman could be so calm when she wanted to rage and scream and smash tea cups, anything to release the anguish trapped inside. “It involves you both, does it not? The proof is sitting on your lap.”

The redhead with the luscious locks frowned. “Oh God. You think…”

“Just say it. I’m no delicate miss. I’m a Nash.”

“You are a Knighton,” said Finn quietly.

She ground her teeth. “And you are scraping my last nerve. Either someone explain why this house isn’t a sanctuary for me, or I will retire upstairs. Unless you are consigning me to the garret? Where does one banish an unwanted wife in these modern times?”