Page 16 of A Wicked Business (Wicked Sons #10)

Dear Charlie,

Of course I’ll come. My Lady is coming too though, so bring Mr Knight along with you, there’s a dear fellow.

Doris x

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Doris Bodrott to Mr Charles Kirby.

6 th August 1850, Keston House, Grosvenor Square, London.

Belinda slept late the next morning, exhausted by the events of the previous days and all the accompanying turmoil. It was almost noon when she finally woke, roused by the delicious scent of hot chocolate and freshly baked rolls.

“Here we are, my pet. You get that down you and you’ll be right as ninepence,” Doris said cheerfully, settling the tray on Belinda’s lap before hurrying to open the curtains and let in a dazzling summer’s morning. “The sun has even come out for you today and it’s lovely and warm, though I reckon we’ll be melting in an hour or two. You’ll be able to wear that lovely new gown that arrived last week, though. Poor Mr Knight won’t see anything of the museum, for he won’t be able to keep his eyes from you.”

“Museum?” Belinda asked sleepily, lifting the chocolate to her lips and taking a cautious sip.

“Oh, beg pardon, my lady, I forgot I hadn’t told you. Charlie asked me to go to the British Museum with him. He said I’d like it,” she added doubtfully. “But I ain’t—I have never been to a museum before, so I’ll have to take his word for it. Anyhow, he’s bringing Mr Knight, so I’m bringing you. We can meet up, accidentally on purpose, like,” she said, grinning.

Belinda smothered a yawn. “That sounds splendid, and Mr Kirby is quite right. There are all sorts of fascinating things in the museum. Have you truly never been before? Surely I’ve taken you?”

Doris shook her head. “If you remember, I was ill when you took that trip with Lady Kilbane last year so I couldn’t come. Hard done by, that’s me,” she added with a laugh.

Belinda smiled, thrilling with a little shiver of anticipation at the realisation she would see Felix today. Suddenly awake, she reached for a roll and tore it in two, buttering it lavishly before adding a good dollop of jam. She was ravenous and so eager for the day ahead that she ate as if she was half starved and cleared the tray of every scrap.

Energised and full of expectation for the coming outing, Belinda hurried through her toilette, making no protests when Doris selected a green gown with a matching redingote that was beautifully cut and highlighted her narrow waist. Belinda thought Doris looked charming too, wearing her best gown in a deep rose colour that emphasised the golden lustre of her lovely skin.

“Well, we look fine as fivepence if you ask me,” Doris said, giving herself a critical once over in the mirror before flashing Belinda a quick grin.

“We certainly do,” Belinda replied, smiling. “Come along, then. I’ve already slept half the day away, let’s not waste any longer by being late.”

6 th August 1850, The British Museum, Great Russell Street, London.

The grand Greek Revival style building on Great Russell Street impressed Doris. This new and vast structure had replaced the smaller previous building. The work on the new museum had begun in the 1820s but was not quite complete. The elegant colonnaded portico that would welcome visitors to the museum was still hidden under scaffolding, but the grand opening was rumoured to be set for the following year.

Upon entering the gates, they found a quadrangle on one side and the main building to the north. They passed a marble statue of Shakespeare and a gilt figure of Gaudma, a Burmese idol, giving both only cursory glances as they hurried to find the Elgin Saloon.

The museum was busy, with crowds eager to enter the cool gloom inside on a day that had become sultry, the city sweltering as the sun returned with unusual force.

Doris and Belinda hurried inside, excited to find their beaus, though it was Doris who spotted them first, her greater height giving her an advantage over Belinda.

“There’s my Charlie!” she exclaimed, tugging Belinda’s hand excitedly.

Thankfully, she refrained from shouting his name to gain his attention and Belinda congratulated herself that Doris was making great strides in proper behaviour and etiquette.

Her own heart skipped as she saw Felix. He turned, their eyes met, and a pleasurable shiver ran down her spine as she saw his expression warm. His gaze travelled over her, an anticipatory quality to it that made her feel hot and quivery with anticipation.

The men came to greet them, and Belinda didn’t notice whether or not Doris continued to behave as she ought, for her attention was entirely captured by the man before her.

“My lady,” Felix said, bowing over her hand. “How lovely you look in green, as fresh and lovely as the spring on this stifling day.”

Belinda smiled, pleased by his charming comment. “I chose it to compliment your pretty eyes, sir,” she replied, taking his arm and wondering at the odd fluttering sensation in her belly. Was this what falling in love felt like?

He laughed at that. “I’m not sure pretty is the correct word in the circumstances. Men are not generally pretty.”

“Some are,” she countered. “And I refuse to have my words modified. Your eyes are pretty, and I will not allow it to be otherwise.”

“Spoiling for a fight already, sweet Belle? What a cantankerous female you are,” he replied with a sad shake of his head.

“Oh, you devil, and after being so nice to me. Why did you have to spoil it?”

“I didn’t spoil it! You did, by always having to have the last word.” He glared at her in mock outrage, and she gave his arm a playful smack.

“Dreadful man, but I’m afraid it’s true. Will I drive you distracted?” she asked, not entirely in jest.

“Undoubtedly, and I shall love every moment,” he said, his expression grave.

Belinda let out a breath, reassured, and they walked on in silence for a moment, apparently looking at the marvellous display of a frieze that had once graced the east end of the Parthenon. For her part, Belinda hardly saw the exhibition, which she had visited before and could pay it little heed, too wrapped up in the strange, dazed happiness. She had never experienced the like, the simple pleasure of finding everything right with the world, just by being in the presence of a man who made everything seem possible.

She glanced behind her, smiling to see Doris and Mr Kirby walking arm-in-arm. Doris was taller than Mr Kirby, but he did not seem the least bit discomforted by this. Indeed, Belinda thought rather the reverse; he glowed with pride and pleasure and seemed far more confident in himself than he had the first time they had met.

Perhaps that was what love could do, at its best. It brought out qualities in a person that might have remained hidden if love and affection had not shone a light on them and allowed them to flourish.

Belinda was uncertain how much time had passed when they found themselves in the Zoological Gallery. Doris was very much taken by the rhinoceros and dared to reach out a hand to touch its leathery hide as Charles kept an eye out for anyone who might tell her off.

“Your Miss Bodrott is a bad influence on poor Charles,” Felix said with a laugh, pointing at a sign that clearly stated Do Not Touch. “I’ve never known him to put so much as a toe out of line, and here he is, breaking the rules.”

“She’s done him the world of good,” Belinda agreed with a mischievous smile. “He looks happy. They both do.”

Felix nodded and stared down at her, a look in his eyes that made her pulse leap. He reached out and took hold of a lock of her hair, tucking it back behind her ear. As he did so, his fingers brushed her cheek, and Belinda felt a flush of heat begin at her toes and warm her all over.

“Are you happy, beautiful Belle?” he asked.

She nodded, suddenly too shy to speak.

He took her hand, drawing her behind a glass case that held several lemurs, caught in lifelike poses among the branches of a tree. Belinda found their glassy gazes somewhat unnerving but, as Felix drew her into a dim corner out of sight of the milling crowd, she no longer cared.

Felix pulled her close, into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. The warmth of his lips sent frissons of delight chasing down her spine and, when he released her and stepped back, drawing her back out into the open, she found herself dazed and a little disorientated.

Felix gave her a rueful smile. “I beg your pardon, Belle,” he said, his low voice setting the strange shivery sensation rushing over her skin again. “I ought not to take such chances in public, but I feel I will run mad if I cannot touch you, kiss you.”

Belinda smiled as colour rose to her cheeks, thrilled by this information. To know that he thought of her, that he desired her and longed to be with her, made her entire being feel charged with a restless energy that she knew only he could subdue.

“You are the one needing time, Felix, not wanting to give up your bachelor ways,” she reminded him gently, though that was not entirely true. She too wanted to be certain. She had known from the start that there was no other man like him anywhere, that no other man had ever caught her attention as he had, but it had still happened too quickly, with no time to consider if they were being rash.

“Do you resent me for it?” he asked, covering her hand with his own where it rested on his arm, his green eyes full of concern.

“Of course not,” she said, gazing up at him. “We would be foolish not to take a little time to be certain. It is the biggest decision of our lives. I may be cut off from my father forever when he discovers what I’ve done.”

“Will that be a dreadful sacrifice?” Felix asked with a frown.

Despite herself, Belinda laughed. “I can understand why you would think it a benefit,” she said with amusement.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean—”

Belinda shook her head. “It’s all right. In many ways, nothing will change. He’s always been a distant figure and had little place in my life until I was of age. But I have always wished things could be different. Despite his disagreeable views, he is still my father and… and I suppose I always hoped he might care for me.”

“I’m sure he does, in his own way. I cannot see how it would be possible for anyone to be in your company and not come to care for you.”

Belinda’s lips quirked. “What a plumper! The first time we met you wanted to murder me with your bare hands.”

Felix laughed at that. “True, but only because you were beautiful and clever and so dreadfully provoking, I knew I was doomed. I think that’s why I was so rude to you. I knew I’d met the girl who would change my life forever, and I wasn’t ready.”

“You were appallingly rude,” Belinda said smugly, squeezing his arm before looking up at him once more, her expression serious now. “And now? How do you feel now?”

Felix gazed down at her. “The licence I procured is burning a hole in my pocket,” he said simply. “And every second I spent with you makes me more desperate to have you to myself. Does that answer your question?”

“Well enough,” she said with a smile, and they carried on with their tour.

6 th August 1850, Keston House, Grosvenor Square, London.

“I liked the rhinoceros best,” Doris said with a reminiscent smile as the carriage took them back to her father’s house. “Though the Egyptian exhibition was quite fascinating. Reckon those mummies will give me nightmares, though. Nasty things,” she added with a shudder.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, and what about Mr Kirby?”

“Oh, he’s a sweetheart,” Doris said with a sigh. “Don’t know what he sees in me, but he seems to think the sun shines out of my—”

“Doris!”

“I was going to say my eyes,” Doris said with a sniff, though her lips twitched. “But it’s true. He could do much better.”

“Don’t say that,” Belinda said crossly. “He’s a lucky man to have such a wonderful woman even consider him as a suitor. You are loyal and loving and kind and you’ll be a wonderful wife to anyone you choose to marry, and don’t you forget it.”

“Ah, thank you, my lamb, but do you think everything will change when you marry Mr Knight?” she asked, looking anxious.

“Not for me. So long as you wish to remain my maid, I shall be glad to have you, but if you marry Mr Kirby, that will be something you must decide with him. He may not wish you to work.”

Doris frowned. “Well, he hasn’t asked me to marry him yet, so we’re probably getting ahead of ourselves, but I think he might not want me to,” she admitted. “He seems to want to save me from a life of hard work.”

Belinda smiled. “But that’s wonderful. Why do you look so forlorn?”

Doris reached over and clutched at her hand. “Because I shall miss you dreadfully.”

“Miss me?” Belinda said with a laugh. “Why, you silly goose, Mr Kirby is Mr Knight’s secretary. They practically live in each other’s pockets, and we will be friends. You need not see to my clothes and pick up after me, but we will call on each other and take tea and chat and go for outings, just as we do now.”

“Oh, my lady, do you promise? You won’t forget me?”

“As if I could! What do you take me for?” Belinda said, a little indignant that Doris could even think it. But her redoubtable maid’s eyes filled with relief and Belinda realised she had been genuinely concerned. Pressing her own handkerchief into Doris’ hand, she hugged the woman to her. “You are my dear friend, and that will never change. The only thing that must change is the way you address me. We have never been formal, but if no one is about, don’t you think you ought to call me Belle?”

Doris smiled. “I shall, my lamb.”

Belinda chuckled and patted Doris’ hand as the carriage drew up outside Keston House.

“My lady, the earl is desirous of speaking to you.”

“Very well, Kimble,” Belinda said, handing the butler her coat and bonnet. “I shall just change my dress and—”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Belinda, but he asked that you attend him at once.”

“Oh.” Belle’s heart skipped as she wondered what this meant, but she nodded her thanks to Kimble and went directly to her father’s study.

“Papa, you wished to see me?” she asked, sticking her head around the door.

“Belinda, yes. Come in, come in,” the earl said, sounding so jovial that Belinda immediately wondered if he’d been drinking. But whilst a glass of brandy was set upon his desk, he did not appear to be intoxicated. “I have some excellent news for you.”

“You do?” Belinda replied politely, realising what this must be about.

“I do. Sit down, my child.” The earl guided her to a chair and looked down at her, his expression that of a beneficent father bestowing a great gift. “I have this morning received a visit from Lord Ashburton. As I suspected he might, he has taken the time to consider my offer and come to realise the advantages of such a match. He has agreed to wed you.”

He looked triumphant and happier than she had seen him in… well, ever.

Belinda’s heart sank. She had no intention of marrying Ashburton, but the revelation still depressed her spirits, for she did not wish to deceive her father deliberately. Indeed, there was still some childish corner of her heart that wished to make him happy, but she would not sacrifice her own happiness to do so for a man who had shown so little interest in or love for her.

“Well?” The earl looked a little affronted that she had not leapt to her feet in joy to embrace him.

“It is, on paper, an excellent match, Papa, and I thank you for that,” she said carefully, needing to try one last time to make him understand. “But did you never stop to wonder what I might like? What might make me happy?”

“Happy?” Her father stared at her as if she had spoken a foreign language. “What the devil has happiness to do with it? You’ll be the Marchioness of Montagu one day and my grandson the Marquess. Now, that is something to be happy about.”

“But Papa, didn’t you love my mother?”

The earl’s face lost a little of its colour, and he frowned. “Sentiment in marriage is to be avoided. It leads to no good,” he said brusquely, returning to his desk and picking up his glass.

“Why? Because you risk getting hurt?” Belinda ventured, wondering how she dared. The earl never spoke of his feelings, or of her mother. Either subject usually ended in him losing his temper.

“I would not see you suffer so,” he said, and though his voice was hard, she recognised his care for her in the words, as foolish as they were. Had that been why he had kept himself so distant all these years from her too? Was it not indifference that held him back, but fear of being hurt again? The idea made her heart clench and yet the once forlorn hope that he might value her for something other than her ability to make a great alliance bloomed inside her.

“Do you truly think it better to endure a loveless marriage with no affection?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Devil take you, Belinda! Enough of this. Ashburton is a good man, he won’t beat or ill-treat you and, if you must fall in love, there will be time enough for that once you’ve provided his heir and a spare, providing you are discreet. Now stop all this repining for something that you cannot have. You’ll marry Ashburton, and that’s my last word. Do you understand?”

Belinda stifled a sigh. Whether or not he did care for her future, the earl did not like being challenged. “I do,” she said, knowing she would never marry Ashburton, and that her father would likely never speak to her again when he discovered what she’d done.

“I should think so, too. Run along now, I have business to attend to.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, turning away to stare morosely into the empty grate.

“Yes, Papa,” Belinda replied calmly, and left the study, intending to go upstairs to where Doris would be waiting for her.

As she made her way back to the entrance hall, she found Mr Flint. He seemed to be in a hurry but his cold eyes gleamed as he saw her.

“My lady,” he said, looking far too pleased with himself for Belinda’s comfort. “How delightful. You are just the person I hoped to see.”

“But you have business with my father, so I shan’t keep you,” Belinda said, striving to sound polite when everything about the man made her want to recoil from him.

He seized her arm as she tried to pass him, holding on too tight. Belinda gasped, trying to pull free, but he held tighter still. “But I wish to speak with you too, Belinda, and I think you will look upon my suit rather more favourably when you hear what I have to say.”

“I will thank you for unhanding me, sir,” Belinda said coldly. “And my father has just told me I am to marry Lord Ashburton, so I’m afraid whatever your plan was, it is no longer viable.”

“What?” Mr Flint stared at her, his shock palpable. “But… But this cannot be.”

“I assure you it is, now unhand me,” she said, tugging harder as his fingers bit into her flesh.

“Mr Flint.”

Belinda let out a breath of relief as her father’s voice reached them.

Flint let her go, turning to face the earl.

“Is it true?” he asked, the words more of a growl than a question. “She’s betrothed to Ashburton?”

“It’s true. It will be the match of the decade,” the earl said smugly. “Are you not going to congratulate my lovely daughter, Mr Flint?”

Flint looked from him to Belinda and back again, his grey eyes hard and icy with fury.

“And what of me?” he demanded. “You promised—”

“Promised?” the earl said, frigidly contemptuous. “I did no such thing. I said I would give you the opportunity to win Belinda, but it is clear she despises you. And whilst you would be well enough if you pleased her, you cannot think I would pass up a future marquess for a mere mister , and one on the brink of ruin too?”

“Why you double-crossing—”

“You dare?”

The earl’s scorn was tinged with amusement and Belinda edged away, praying they would not notice her exit. Though it pleased her to see Mr Flint taken down a peg or two, she didn't want to witness his humiliation. Heaven alone knew what her father had said, but Flint had clearly expected Belinda as part of their deal. She shuddered at the idea and turned to make good her escape, but Flint grasped her arm once more.

“Not so fast, my lady. I believe you will wish to hear what I have to say. I suspect Ashburton will be less inclined to wed you if what I know becomes public knowledge,” he said with a nasty smile that made her flesh creep and a sensation like iced water slide down her spine.

“Take your hands off my daughter. Belinda, come here,” her father said, his eyes narrowing.

Belinda felt a tremor of unease, but hurried to her father’s side with relief as Mr Flint released her.

“If you have something to say, you’d best come in and say it,” the earl said, sounding impatient as gestured for Belinda to precede him into the room. Rather to her surprise, he placed himself between her and Mr Flint, a protective stance she found touching from a man who had never shown her a mite of affection.

“You asked me to discover who is writing and publishing the story about Sefton,” Flint said, eyeing Belinda with a smirk that made her stomach drop. “Well, I found the print shop right enough, and whilst I do not know who the author of the piece is, I did come across a rather tasty little morsel that will make your lovely daughter here nigh on unmarriageable, should it become public knowledge.”

“Damn you, spit it out, you vile piece of work,” the earl said in outrage. “But if you think I’m going to be blackmailed by the likes of you, you’ll find yourself much mistaken.”

Flint’s face hardened. The earl had clearly manipulated him, dangling the carrot of Belinda’s hand in marriage before the man as bait, but never intending to follow through. If Mr Flint hadn’t been so thoroughly unlikeable, or about to reveal a secret she had hoped would remain hidden, Belinda might have felt sorry for him.

“Very well, my lord,” Mr Flint said coldly. “Well, we’ll just see about that, for the owner of that print shop and the person who bought and arranged for publication of His Grace and Disfavour is none other than your precious daughter.”

The earl gaped at him, then snorted. “Don’t be a fool.”

“Oh, I shan’t be. Never again,” Mr Flint said, glaring at the earl with a murderous look in his eyes. “But I am not mistaken. It was clever of you to set up a company to buy the shop on your behalf, Belinda, but with a little encouragement, Miss Ludlow was very forthcoming about the arrangement… once we had come to an understanding.”

“No!” Belinda exclaimed, her hands flying to her face in horror. “Oh, you brute, what did you do? If you’ve hurt her—”

Her father moved closer to her, glaring at Flint as the man carried on speaking, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Settle your feathers, my love. She’s come to no harm, I only explained what would happen should she not be as useful as I wished. Lucky for me, I found her when she was all alone, with no one to hear her call for help.”

“You devil! And you will speak to Lady Belinda with respect, blackguard. She’s no lightskirt to be referred to in such a way,” the earl said with outrage.

Belinda’s heart thudded as she considered Miss Ludlow and what she might have gone through. “What did you do to her?” she asked again, her rage giving her the courage to stand up to the vile man. “For if you have laid a hand on her, I swear upon everything I have, I shall see you punished for it.”

“Come, come, Belinda,” Flint said, his voice soothing now he believed he had power over her and the situation. “There is no need for that. I am a gentleman, after all. I did not touch her, you have my word upon it. I only threatened to hurt her, but more than that was not required.”

“Oh, very gentlemanly,” Belinda replied, scathing, pleased to see him flush at her words.

“Well, as it appears I am forced into dishonourable actions by your duplicitous father, we may as well have the truth with the bark on it. I will ruin you if you do not marry me. If, however, you are willing to be sensible, I shall keep your secret, and no one will be any the wiser. Of course, I will take over the print shop. It is unseemly for a woman to be involved in such a sordid world.”

“You will do no such thing!” she retorted, incensed.

“Then I shall have no choice but to have a private word with Ashburton,” he said, looking so self-satisfied that he had won, Belinda could not wait to wipe the look from his despicable face.

“Ashburton already knows,” she told him triumphantly, smirking at the way he stared at her in shock, the wind taken out of his sails.

There was a sudden bark of laughter and Belinda turned to see her father staring at her with amusement.

“Did you really buy a print shop and publish that wicked story?”

Belinda swallowed but felt a little encouraged by the gleam in his eyes. He didn’t appear to be furious with her. “Yes, Papa,” she admitted.

“You little minx!” Her father exclaimed and then burst out laughing. “And you say Ashburton knows?”

“He does,” Belinda said, staring at her father in shock. She had never, ever seen him laugh before.

“Well, well, when I think of Sefton here, under this very roof, threatening murder and libel and you, cool as anything, sending for my lawyer!” he chortled, wiping his eyes. “Ah, you have spirit, my girl, I’ll give you that. Just like your mama.”

Despite the situation, Belinda felt her throat tighten. This was her father as she had never seen him before, looking almost human and… and proud of her? Surely not!

“Like Mama?” she repeated, astonished.

His eyes softened, a wistful expression on his usually austere face. “Yes, indeed. She loved to stir things up.”

“Well, this is all very charming, but it changes nothing,” Mr Flint said, his tone curt and businesslike. “Lady Belinda will marry me, Keston, or I shall tell the world about her vile little scheme. At the very least Sefton will want to murder her. He’ll certainly believe you were behind it, and she will be ruined in the eyes of society.”

Belinda gasped, hurrying to her father’s side and taking his arm. “Papa?” she said faintly, wondering if he would agree to such a thing to save the family’s reputation.

“There, there, child,” her father said, with surprising gentleness. “Flint, you really are a fool, but sadly for you, I am not. Why do you not think a little about your tenuous financial situation? Do you perhaps remember all those vowels you wrote out? All those ill-considered gambling debts which have put you in such a difficult position you must marry an heiress to save your estate?”

The colour drained slowly from Mr Flint’s face. “No,” he said, shaking his head as if he could deny the truth.

“Oh, I’m afraid, yes, sir. I have bought them, every last one, and if you dare to open your mouth and a whisper of this affair gets out, I shall call them all in and ruin you.”

Her father looked far too pleased with himself at the prospect of ruining another human being’s life but, in the circumstances, Belinda could only be glad for his Machiavellian ways. He must have known from the start that Mr Flint was untrustworthy and taken precautions. The thought made her shiver.

“I think we have said everything we need to say, Mr Flint. I believe you know the way out,” the earl said crisply.

Mr Flint looked purple with rage now, his colour having gone from that of a cold milk pudding to one where an apoplexy might be imminent. “You’ve not heard the last of me,” he spat, before stalking out of the study and slamming the door behind him.

Belinda stood still, too stunned to move as she tried to comprehend everything that had just happened. Silence reigned for a long moment until her father spoke.

“I want you to know, Belinda, I never intended for you to marry that man,” he said, his expression grave.

“I am glad to hear it,” Belinda replied faintly.

He nodded. “Run along now, child. I am weary after such a disagreeable scene. We will speak more about this print shop of yours, for you must realise that cannot continue.”

“But Papa—” Belinda protested, but her father held up his hand to silence her.

“Go. Now, Belinda. We will speak again in the morning.”

Knowing better than to press him when he had given a direct command, Belinda left the room.