Page 7 of A Wicked Business (Wicked Sons #10)
Dearest Bonnie,
Evie has had another little girl! Apparently, she is as beautiful as her father – Evie’s words, not mine – but if true, we may need to employ an armed guard by the time she is old enough for her come out! I am so excited to see the little darling. We are packing now and plan to leave first thing in the morning. I am a little cross Evie did not wait for we were due to visit next week in anticipation of the happy event, but little Sophronia was too impatient to make her grand entrance into the world, it seems.
Besides, I shall be happy to escape from town. It’s nasty and smelly and too hot and I would have left weeks ago, but Gabe had business that could not be avoided, and he gets so difficult when we are apart, biting everyone’s head off. I decided it would be best for everyone if I stayed. Besides which, I hate being away from him even after all these years.
Have you heard any more about that Norbury woman? I pray Felix cuts his ties there before she gets her claws into him. I saw her flirting wildly with Lord Keston last week, which just goes to show how awful she is. He was dreadfully rude to me, you know, at Harriet’s ball in the spring. I never told Gabe, for it would only have caused a scene, but the horrid man implied I was a traitor to my heritage for marrying out of my class! I very nearly slapped him. I feel so sorry for his daughter, though I do not know what to make of her. Some of the young bucks seem to find her rather terrifying. She certainly seems very strong willed from the little I have seen of her. Perhaps she takes after the earl and shares his opinions? But nevermind that.
I have another granddaughter!!! Huzzah!
―Excerpt of a letter from The Lady Helena Knight to her friend Mrs Bonnie Cadogan.
8 th July 1850, Regent Street, London.
Belinda crossed the road in a lather of confusion. Her emotions seemed to have spun around and around, lurching from irritation to indignation to amusement to affront and… and she did not know what she was feeling from one moment to the next. It seemed as though every time she looked at Mr Knight it was like striking two flints together and the sparks flew in all directions. She was not usually so easily riled, but there was something about him that made her temper flare and, from what he had just said, he was experiencing a similar reaction. How odd.
She glanced up at him as he guided her carefully across the street, avoiding refuse and oncoming traffic with diligent attention. If she had been asked, she would have said his hair was a middling shade of brown, but now, with the light shining on it, she saw bronze and gold and a dozen different shades that defied brown as a description. His jawline was strong, and she suspected he was a pigheaded soul, or at least tenacious. Like his father, she supposed, for a man could not make such a climb from poverty to wealth without a strength of will that must be nigh on unbendable. He turned his head, checking the way was clear, and she gazed at his green eyes, an odd sensation uncoiling in her stomach. The arm beneath her fingers seemed to resonate strength and gave her the feeling of being entirely safe, though when he noticed her regard and their eyes met, that feeling dissipated. The look in his eyes then was not safe at all and her pulse thundered.
Belinda dragged her attention back to the road just in time to notice the kerb and stepped up instead of falling on her face as she might have. She slanted another look up at Mr Knight, who was looking amused, and she cursed herself for ogling him so openly. She was as bad as Doris. Worse, for at least Doris hadn’t been caught staring.
“I do miss the colonnades, don’t you?” she remarked, desperate to ease the tension she felt stirring between them once more. If she did not do something, they would end up arguing again.
Mr Knight glanced towards the southern end of Regent Street where, until two years ago, the street had been graced by an elegant curving colonnade that gave shoppers a dry walkway to avoid the often-inclement British weather.
“It is certainly less elegant,” Mr Knight admitted. “But far safer. Better to walk in the safety of daylight than wonder if a pickpocket or cutthroat is lurking behind each pillar. I’m afraid it enticed a good deal of criminal activity, especially at night. It also made the shops very dark,” he added practically. “I believe business has picked up markedly since that graceful facade was removed.”
“That’s the sort of detail you think about, isn’t it?” she said, struck by his words.
“Making money?” he asked, a sardonic twist to his lips.
“No!” Belinda retorted, stung, before rethinking her reaction. “Well, yes, in part, I suppose, though I meant no implied criticism by it, but I meant more that you think about the practical aspect of things. At least, if I have understood correctly from Catherine, that is part of your work.”
The rather hard expression eased, and he nodded. “Yes, that’s part of my job, making sure that the grand plans my father imagines actually work, pointing out the flaws and problems before too much investment has been made and it’s too late to resolve them.”
Belinda smiled ruefully. “That must be why you’re so very critical of my every deficiency.”
He looked surprised by her words, which heartened her a little. “I am not the least bit critical.”
This, however, was too much. Belinda spluttered, so outraged she could hardly speak. “What a plumper!” she exclaimed finally. “I spend every moment in your presence horribly aware of how much you disapprove of me.”
“I—” Mr Knight began and then stopped. He shook his head and his expression became serious. “My lady, if I have given you such an impression, then I am most grievously sorry. I cannot imagine how dreadful my manners must have been to have put such thoughts into your head. Indeed, I find it hard to believe when the truth is I find a great deal to admire in you.”
Belinda stared at him and then blushed, disconcerted by the sincerity of his words.
“Thank you,” she said, hardly knowing what to say. “And I would like you to know too, Mr Knight, that I find a great deal to admire in you, and in your father. I know you are tremendously proud of him and… and I envy you the ability to feel such pride in him more than I can say.”
8 th July 1850, Regent Street, London.
Felix stared after Lady Belinda in surprise, so startled by her words that it took a moment for him to realise she had entered the silversmith’s without him. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he turned to see Charles guiding Lady Kilbane and Miss Bodrott across the road and lifted his hand, pointing at the shop before following Lady Belinda inside.
She was gazing down at a glass-topped cabinet and, in the few seconds Felix had been absent, she had attracted two male shop assistants who were clearly vying for her attention.
“What about a silver bracelet, miss?” one of the young men said. “It would look lovely against those pretty yellow gloves you’re wearing.”
He could be no more than two and twenty and was gazing at Belinda with the look of a man in the presence of a goddess. Felix found he could not entirely blame the poor fool.
“That’s my lady,” he told the fellow, giving him a stern glance that told him to mind his manners.
If anything, the fellow looked even more entranced. Felix sighed.
“We’re looking for a present for my niece, who was born a few days ago,” he said, speaking to the other man, who looked a few years older and the more sensible of the two.
At this, the fellow seemed to remember where he was and his purpose in being there. “A rattle perhaps?” he suggested. “Thomas, go and get the selection we have.”
Thomas cast a reproachful glare at his older companion but did as he was asked, returning shortly with a blue velvet tray arrayed with silver and bone rattles laid upon it.
Belinda looked at them with interest but wrinkled her pretty nose. “I think there will be a half dozen rattles given,” she remarked apologetically. “Perhaps something your niece might wear when she is older would be more in order. Then she will always think of her kind Uncle Felix whenever she wears it. A silver locket, perhaps? Then you could have her initials engraved on it.”
Felix stared at her, impressed. “See, you are as good at this as my mother and sisters. Is it a female trait to always pick the perfect gift?”
“No,” she said, with mock severity. “There is no trick to it. You must simply put some effort into it. Think about who you are buying for and what would best please them, judging by their likes and dislikes.”
“Sophronia is a few days old; she likes milk and sleeping,” he said with a laugh.
Belinda lips twitched at this, but she managed to keep her face stern. “Precisely, so one must think of the future, and what young girl does not like jewellery?”
“Very well, show us your prettiest silver lockets, please,” Felix told the shop assistants. “Something suitable for a very young lady.”
Thomas was sent off again and, on his return, Belinda leaned over the tray of lockets, inspecting each one diligently. Felix watched her, finding himself becoming as entranced as poor Thomas as he studied her lovely profile and watched her long, elegant fingers as they turned the lockets this way and that. Finally, she placed three lockets together in the centre of the tray.
“Each of these is lovely and would be a welcome gift for a young woman, so her mama should be as pleased as Sophronia will be when she is old enough to appreciate your gift. If you choose the one you like best, you will at least be able to say honestly that you chose it.”
“Ah, a woman who knows how to bend the truth to suit her, I am impressed,” he said, smiling, but immediately realised he had said the wrong thing as her warm expression cooled. He reached out his hand, touching hers briefly, and felt the strangest sensation, like a surge of electricity jolting up his arm. Felix withdrew his touch but hurried to speak, ignoring the peculiar tingle that lingered in his fingers. “I was only teasing, my lady. I meant no insult.”
Her face cleared, and she smiled at him. “I beg your pardon. I seem to be too easily provoked by your words. I do not know what is wrong with me,” she added, faintly, looking genuinely confused. “I am never usually so sensitive to what others think of me. Quite the reverse, in fact,” she added with a wry smile.
Felix smiled back, rather touched by the admission, but told himself severely that he ought not to want Lady Belinda to care what he thought of her. Not when nothing could come of the connection. After today, he would do well to keep far away from her. He could only imagine his father’s reaction if he discovered Felix had been escorting Lady Belinda Madox-Brown on a shopping expedition. He’d have his head on a platter.
Felix bought the silver locket, leaving his order for Sophronia’s initials to be engraved on it, and arranged for it to be sent to his rooms later that day.
“Thank you,” he told Lady Belinda, as he escorted her out of the shop and led her to where the rest of their party were just emerging from a bookshop two doors down. “I would have chosen nothing half so perfect without your help and the poor thing would have ended up with yet another rattle.”
“Think nothing of it,” she replied, taking his proffered arm. “It is the least I can do for all the help you gave me with my little enterprise.”
“How is that going?” he asked her, curious despite himself.
“It is rather too early to say,” she replied with a smile. “But I believe I have my first project, and I am excited to get started. So we shall see.”
“Why does that prospect fill me with trepidation?” he remarked, only half joking.
A rather mischievous glint lit her eyes, that dimple peeking out once more. “I cannot imagine,” she replied serenely, which only made him all the more anxious.
Felix gazed down at her, a most unwelcome surge of protectiveness filling his chest. “You will be careful,” he said, knowing he was playing with fire saying such things to her. This time, however, she only laughed, which was at once a relief and even more troubling.
“With you to keep reminding me, I must! So, of course, I will, Mr Knight,” she said, and then let go of his arm as they drew level with the others.
“I bought this,” Charles said, looking pleased with himself and holding up a magnificent leather-bound and gold tooled copy of the collected works of Edgar Allen Poe. “Lady Kilbane reminded me how much the countess loves Gothic fiction, and I also bought a box of marzipan fruits to go with it when we were across the road.”
“A wonderful choice,” Felix agreed. “And with that, our mission is complete. We must thank you ladies for such an agreeable outing, but it is time for us to return to work. May we escort you back to your carriage?”
The ladies murmured appropriate words in response to this gallantry, asking Felix merely to send their carriage ahead to wait for them outside the modiste at the far end of the street, and Felix extricated a reluctant Charles, who looked as if he would far rather stay and shop all afternoon.
“Well, Charles, I believe I have the best presents I have ever bought for my sister. She won’t believe I chose them,” Felix said, once they had said their goodbyes and begun their walk back to Knight Enterprises.
“What?” Charles said, clearly still in a world of his own. “Oh! I beg your pardon. Indeed, I think the countess will be pleased with her book. What did you buy the babe?”
“A silver locket engraved with her initials.”
“An excellent choice,” Charles agreed, nodding. “When will you go to visit? You said in the next few weeks, I think?”
Felix considered this and made a sudden decision. “I’ll go tomorrow. My parents leave in the morning so I can catch a lift with them.”
Charles looked at him in surprise. Felix usually made excuses to delay family visits, not wanting to leave the city and his work, as Charles knew. “Very well, sir. Er… The Gibson papers?”
“Oh, you know what to do as well as I do,” Felix said, shaking his head. “I trust you to take care of it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Charles said, looking gratified by this confidence in his abilities.
In truth, Felix ought to have given him more responsibility long since but he found it difficult to hand work over, needing to know it was all done precisely as it should be and trusting no one else to do it. That was unfair to Charles, who was more than capable. He knew this refusal to delegate where appropriate was a failing, as his father had pointed out before now, and so Felix assured himself this was the reason for his getting out of town. It would give Charles a chance to shine and perhaps keep his thoughts from dwelling too long on Miss Bodrott. He could see Charles had been struck by the woman, but he knew the man could do better, and marrying a woman like Doris would do his career no good. So, it was with these philanthropic notions in mind that Felix made his arrangement to quit the city for a week or two. It certainly had nothing to do with getting himself as far from Lady Belinda as he reasonably could. Nothing at all.
8 th July 1850, Regent Street, London.
Belinda glanced across at Doris as they waited for Cat, who had seen a pair of gloves she simply must have and had dived into a milliner’s shop to purchase them. Her maid was uncharacteristically quiet, her expression pensive.
“You and Mr Kirby seemed to hit it off,” Belinda said as casually as she could.
Doris shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I suppose he seemed a good sort,” she said in an offhand manner, which made Belinda frown. “Not at all uppity, as some fellows can be, I’ll give him that.”
Belinda watched her maid for a long moment, thinking Doris seemed rather too unconcerned when she had been lit up like a firework for the past couple of hours.
“I wonder if we shall see him again,” she mused, giving Doris a gentle nudge with her elbow.
To her surprise, instead of smiling, Doris only scowled. “Don’t go getting any daft ideas, my lady. A fellow like that won’t go calling on me, so don’t think it. Not with any honourable intentions, anyhow.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Belinda asked, a little shocked. “Tell me he did not overstep the mark with you. I thought he seemed a most respectful young man.”
“Oh, he is!” Doris said impatiently. “I didn’t mean… Just don’t go thinking you just witnessed something ‘cause you didn’t. We had a pleasant couple of hours in each other’s company but that’s all, and that’s all it ever will be, so don’t go thinking otherwise. I don’t want to hear none of your romantic notions, for my life ain’t like in one of them daft stories you like so much.”
Belinda stared, startled by the vehemence of Doris’s words.
“Doris, whatever is the matter?”
“Nothing. There ain’t a single thing the matter,” she said, and stalked off to the next shop as Cat came out of the milliner’s.
Belinda stared after her maid in surprise. Whilst Doris could be rather too bossy when the mood took her, and was certainly outspoken, she was rarely, if ever, bad-tempered, certainly not with Belinda.
“Is something the matter?” Cat asked, hurrying over to her.
“I don’t know. Doris seems to be rather out of sorts,” Belinda said in concern. “I thought she’d had a lovely afternoon with Mr Kirby but when I mentioned it, she… well, she seemed rather angry.”
“Ah,” Cat said quietly, taking Belinda’s arm. “Well, you know, when you see something you want rather desperately but know you cannot have it, anger is a common emotion.”
Belinda looked at her, perplexed. “But why—”
“Dearest Belinda, I know you adore Doris, but she’s rather… er… Well, Mr Kirby would be quite a catch for her,” Cat said, obviously striving to be tactful. “He told me his father was a schoolteacher, somewhere in Hampshire, I think, and he has excellent prospects, working for a man like Felix. I’m afraid he could look far higher than Doris for a prospective wife, and she knows that as well as he does.”
“Of course,” Belinda said, shaking her head at her own stupidity. “I spend so much time with Doris, I believe I am guilty of forgetting the disparity in our situations, at least a little. Though, lady’s maid to an earl’s daughter is quite a sought-after position too,” she countered, feeling the need to defend Doris, who might be a little rough around the edges but was kind and loyal and very capable… so long as you didn’t need anything sewing up.
“It is,” Cat said thoughtfully. “And you know, with a little polish, supposing she wanted to make the effort, she could make herself more acceptable. Not that she ought to change a thing if she does not wish to,” she added hurriedly, seeing Belinda’s worried expression.
Belinda frowned over Cat’s words, considering this thoughtfully. “Do you think I ought to speak to her? I could help her if she wanted me to.”
Cat shrugged. “I cannot say. You know her better than I do, but tread carefully if you do. Try to judge her feelings before putting both feet in and discovering you’ve insulted her.”
“Yes,” Belinda said fervently, agreeing that this advice was definitely worth heeding.