Page 8 of A Wicked Business (Wicked Sons #10)
My Lord,
I understand that your family is in town at present. May I request that you call upon me at your convenience? I have a proposition to put to you that I believe may be in your interest.
―Excerpt of a letter from The Right Hon’ble Emerich Madox-Brown, Earl of Keston, to The Right Hon’ble Philip Barrington, Earl of Ashburton (Son of The Most Hon’ble Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu).
9 th July 1850, Keston House, Grosvenor Square, London.
Belinda looked out of her bedroom window, aware of the hive of activity on the far side of the grand square.
“That’s your Mr Knight’s family. They’re off to visit their new granddaughter, I’ll wager,” Doris said, coming to stand beside her.
Belinda nodded. “Yes, I imagine so. Sussex, isn’t it?”
“I think so. That fancy French count bought some grand place down there with a funny name. Heart something?” she said, shaking her head. “Can’t remember.”
“And he’s not my Mr Knight,” Belinda added belatedly.
“If you say so,” Doris said with a shrug.
“Well, if your Mr Kirby isn’t your Mr Kirby, then my Mr Knight is not mine either, so there,” Belinda said, aware this was a rather childish sally, but she had been wracking her brain trying to discover a way of introducing the subject of Charles Kirby with no success.
Doris rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a goose,” she said, but with no heat. “The situation is hardly the same.”
“Do you… Do you think he’s too good for you?” Belinda asked tentatively, almost wincing as she said the words, but not knowing how else to phrase it.
To her relief, Doris gave a bark of laughter. “Oh, bless your heart. Of course he’s too good for me, you daft ha’porth!”
Belinda frowned, sitting down on the arm of the chair Doris had settled herself in and distractedly removing the petticoat she was mending from her maid’s hand. She stared at the lumpy repair Doris had been working on and began to unpick it. “But… But what if he wasn’t?” she asked carefully. “What if we could make you… I shan’t say worthy because the idea you are not worthy of being his wife is insulting and quite untrue. However, suppose we could make you appear to fit the position better than you do at present. Would you wish for that?”
Belinda glanced up from the stitches she was undoing to see Doris watching her with that intent look she got sometimes. She noticed, and not for the first time, that Doris had very pretty eyes, a vibrant hazel that seemed to glow in the bright morning sunlight illuminating the bedroom.
“What are you scheming, my lady?” Doris asked, looking more amused than insulted as Belinda had feared she might. “Reckon you can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear? A thankless task, that one.”
Belinda put down the mending with a huff. “Don’t say such things, you wicked creature. You are no sow’s ear! But we could work on your manners, and I could teach you how to behave with a little more—”
“Decorum?” Doris suggested with a lift of one dark brow.
Belinda snorted, smothering a giggle at the laughter dancing in her maid’s eyes. “Yes, you wretch. At least I could teach you not to say things that would make the poor man blush.”
Doris laughed and sat back in the chair, regarding Belinda with her usual frankness. “You’re a good sort, you know. Especially considering that wicked old arseh—”
“Doris!”
“That wicked devil what sired you,” Doris amended, cackling at Belinda’s shocked expression. “Truly, my lady. A heart of gold, that’s what you’ve got, but do you really think a fellow like Charles Kirby could ever consider me fit to be his wife?”
“Yes!” Belinda said at once, and with such vehemence Doris jumped, looking somewhat startled. “Yes, I do. In all honesty, I think the man is smitten with you, just as you are with him, I’ll wager, but it is true that if you wish to move comfortably in his world and not cause him… er difficulties—”
“Embarrassment,” Doris amended cheerfully.
“Well, yes,” Belinda allowed. “That. To do that, there are lessons you would need to learn if… if you think you should like to? It is entirely your decision, Doris. I believe Mr Kirby would be lucky to have you just as you are, though I do not know how I should go on without you.”
“Without me!” Doris said, shocked, though her eyes twinkled wickedly. “You ain’t getting shot of me, my girl. Oh no. For if I’m to marry Mr Kirby, you shall have Mr Knight, and then we need never be parted,” she said smugly.
Belinda sighed and shook her head, giving Doris a pitying look. “Now who is getting romantic notions from silly books? My father would sooner push me down the stairs than see me marry Mr Knight, and well you know it.”
“True,” Doris said, though the wicked glitter lingered. “But if it’s all done before he knows anything about it, well, nowt he can do after the fact, is there?”
Belinda stared at Doris, alarmed. “Are you suggesting I elope with him?”
“Why not? Works in the books, don’t it?”
“Well, there is one teeny, tiny flaw in your plan, Doris,” Belinda said, exasperated.
“Oh?” Doris looked sceptical.
“He hasn’t asked me to elope with him!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands.
Doris took the carefully unpicked sewing back and started pulling the thread in and out with such vigour she would likely tear the fabric. “Oh, that. Just a matter of time, that is. You mark my words. Now run along and have your breakfast and leave me be. I ain’t got time to chat with you, there’s this mending to do and I’ve got to get your clothes ready for this evening and—”
“And I shall throttle you,” Belinda said, getting to her feet with a huff.
“So you say,” Doris replied, unperturbed, having heard it many times before. “We’ll start those lessons you said about then, shall we? After your morning callers?”
Belinda paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Certainly we shall,” she said, and smiled as she let herself out.
9 th July 1850, Peregrin House, Grosvenor Square, London.
Felix hefted his trunk from the back of the hackney he’d hired, tipped the driver and called to his father’s footmen. One hurried over, looking at him and the trunk expectantly.
“I’m stowing away, George,” Felix told the man with a smile. “Reckon you can fit me in?”
“Reckon I can manage it,” George said with a grin. “Leave it to me, sir.”
“Good man,” Felix said, clapping him on the back before hurrying inside the house, which was a hive of activity. He found his mother in the hallway, calmly giving orders and coordinating the chaos with her usual skill for managing people. She needed such talents to manage his father, that was for sure.
“Felix!” she exclaimed upon seeing him. “What are you doing here? You do remember we are leaving today, so if you’ve come to speak to your father on some pressing business matter that will delay us, I will murder you,” she told him frankly.
Felix laughed, giving her a hug and kissing her cheek. The delicate scent of lily of the valley enveloped him, reminding him of his childhood and making him feel suddenly wistful for days when life had been much simpler than they seemed of late.
“No, Mama, don’t fret,” he told her. “I’ve decided it’s about time I give Charles some responsibility and took a few days off, so I’m coming with you.”
“You are!” she exclaimed, her delight so obvious Felix felt a surge of remorse for having neglected his family. He’d been so busy of late he’d seen little of his mother and sisters, and whilst he saw much more of his father, it was always in a business setting, and not a familial one.
“I am,” he agreed, pleased that he had decided to join them on their journey rather than making his own way now he saw how happy it had made his mother.
“Oh, how marvellous. I shall have you all to myself for the journey, and I forbid you and your father to talk business,” she added, wagging an admonishing finger at him.
“Who’s talking business?” demanded a deep voice and Felix turned to see his father walking out of his office, papers still in hand.
“No one,” his mother said firmly. “Felix is coming with us and you two are going to be gentlemen and entertain me all the way there.”
His father looked at Felix in confusion for a moment. “The Gibson papers—”
“Charles has it all in hand, sir,” Felix said at once, immediately feeling guilty for taking the time off.
“That’s it!” his mother said, making a cutting motion with her hand. “There will not be another word spoken. Not. One. Word. Do I make myself plain?”
There was a moment’s silence as his father digested this, but then he handed his papers to a passing footman, asking him to put them back on his desk, crossed to his wife and murmured. “You could never be plain, my love,” before winking at Felix and making his way outside to see how things were progressing.
Felix watched in amusement as his mother sighed, looking adoringly at his father as he walked out of the front door. “And that is why I put up with him,” she said wistfully.
Felix shook his head, wondering if they would ever be too old to act like a couple of love-struck newlyweds. He suspected not and wondered if such a marriage were something he would ever have for himself. If he were honest, he wasn’t certain he wanted anything of the sort. He had seen times when his father had been out of his mind with fear for his mother when she had taken ill and knew that when he had been born the birth had been a difficult one and his father had been impossible for weeks until he knew his wife was out of danger. Such intense feelings could not be comfortable to live with, surely? How did he manage such overpowering emotions and stay sane enough to work and live a normal life? How did he concentrate when his mind was constantly disturbed by thoughts of an aggravating woman who drove him distracted?
Felix could not understand it, and rather thought he did not wish to. Marrying someone who was a good friend seemed far more sensible, someone with whom you could be comfortable and share laughter—and enjoy a good tumble too, naturally. But not someone whose mere existence was required for you to be able to breathe each day. That seemed dangerous and overwhelming, and not at all what he wished for.
Unbidden, the image of Lady Belinda flitted behind his eyes, and he snorted. The idea he could be comfortable with such a woman was outrageous, never mind not being able to breathe if she did not exist. He thought it likely he would murder her with his bare hands before they reached the end of the aisle, or she him, he admitted ruefully.
The image of her beautiful face in profile in the silversmith’s shop appeared in his mind’s eye, so very lovely, and then the way her blue eyes flashed when he provoked her. He wondered if she realised what it was that made them spark off each other with such heat. Felix could not remember ever being so physically drawn to a woman before. Oh, he’d had his fair share of passionate affairs with women he’d been desperate to take to his bed, but this was at once far stronger and yet strangely different, woven in as it was with a fierce sense of protectiveness he could not account for. He suspected Lady Belinda needed little protecting; certainly the men of the ton seemed to be somewhat afraid of her, and with good reason with Doris standing guard as she did.
Their relationship was yet another indicator of what an unusual young woman Belinda was, for the two of them seemed as thick as thieves, but Doris Bodrott was hardly a suitable companion for a gently bred lady. The way Belinda had not batted an eye but merely appeared amused at Doris’ frightful language, and her easy acceptance of familiarity that went way past what was acceptable in society, enchanted him.
“What are you smiling about?” his mama asked, her green eyes so like his, crinkling with suspicion. “Are you in love?” she asked hopefully.
Felix snorted and shook his head, laughing out loud now. “Certainly not,” he said, shaking his head, and going outside to speak to his father.
“All ready?” he asked.
Gabriel Knight turned and regarded his son, his dark eyes as keen as ever.
“What’s with the sudden flight from town? Are you running away from Mrs Norbury?”
Felix laughed and shook his head. “No, though it’s a bonus. I ended it last night, and she was mad as fire.”
“What were you thinking?” his father said, shaking his head. “No, don’t answer that. I know precisely what you were thinking.”
“I know, I know, but don’t pretend you didn’t have a Mrs Norbury or two tucked away in your past before you met Mama.”
Gabriel snorted. “Yes, but the moment I met her, I knew that was over.” Then he laughed ruefully. “That’s a lie. The moment I met her, I did everything I could to avoid her. I knew she was trouble the moment I laid eyes on her, and she proved me right, did she not?” he said, his eyes warm and filled with a depth of love and affection Felix had seen there all his life.
The words, echoing so many of his own thoughts, set his nerves jangling with anxiety. Of course, he knew his parents’ story, knew how his mother had pursued his father quite shamelessly, and had even challenged him to race her from London to Brighton. She’d won too, yet she’d made herself ill driving in dreadful weather and getting soaked. It was a romantic story, and one the whole family knew by heart. They had eloped to Gretna Green, though only a few knew that part of the story for his mother’s brother, the Duke of Bedwin, had caught up with them. He’d forbidden the match until then, but on seeing how much they loved each other, he’d relented. So, Felix’s parents had been married in London with all the ceremony anyone could have wished for, and the scandal sheets never learned of their shocking elopement.
Felix laughed as he was supposed to do at his father’s words, but the sense of unease, the strange sensation that the hand of fate might be intervening, repeating history, made him shiver. “What about her made you think she was trouble?” he asked warily.
His father turned, interest lighting his eyes. “She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, she was clearly interested in me, and she was so… so certain, of herself, her place in the world, her ability to do whatever it was she put her mind to. I had never met a woman like that, one who had such a combination of loveliness, kindness, strength, and sheer determination. It was… irresistible.”
Felix nodded, an odd sensation kicking about in his chest. Damn, damn, damn.
“Why do you ask?”
Felix started at the question, unprepared for his father’s piercing and too knowing gaze as he studied him.
“No reason,” he said hurriedly. “Well, it looks like we’re ready. Mama!” he called, hurrying into the house to fetch her and avoid any further awkward questions.
9 th July 1850, en route to Sussex
They made good time, and Felix did his best to entertain his mother, still feeling guilty for having not been a dutiful son of late. He succeeded in making her laugh, though, and that pleased his father, and so the party was in good spirits as they crossed the border into Sussex.
“How is Charles?” his mother asked suddenly. “We must have him over to dinner, Gabe. I’m sure he doesn’t eat enough. Why, there’s nothing of him.”
“He’s well, Mama, and I think he does eat. It’s just that busy brain of his burns it all off so fast.”
“Hmph.” She seemed unconvinced by this. “He needs a wife, though how the poor man will ever find one with the two of you working him all hours—”
“Mama!” Felix protested. “I don’t work him that hard. Besides, he’s a dark horse, I tell you. I believe he may have his own ambitions in that direction.”
“Oh! He’s met someone!” Helena clapped her hands together, delighted by this news. “Where did he meet her? What’s she like?”
Felix opened his mouth and closed it again, cursing himself. This was what he got for relaxing and letting his guard down. “Oh, he ran into her when we were out shopping for Evie’s gift,” he said, hoping this might be enough information. A ridiculous idea, for Lady Helena Knight was every bit as tenacious as his father and once on the scent would not be diverted.
“So you saw her? What’s she like? Is she pretty?”
“Charles certainly seemed to think so,” Felix remarked, eyeing his father, who was looking out of the window, having no interest in Charles’ love life. Felix only hoped it remained that way.
“Oh, Felix, don’t be difficult. Is she a lady? He will not be disappointed, will he?”
“No, she’s not a lady, a lady’s maid. Cat introduced them.”
“Cat? It was Cat’s maid?”
“No, not Cat’s maid, her friend’s,” Felix said, adding desperately, “Oh, look at that beautiful view, Mama. I’ve never seen the countryside looking so lovely. What a relief it is to see green after being in town so long.”
“Never mind the view,” his mother said crossly. “Which friend of Cat? I know many of them, their maids, too. I want to know which of them it is, because that creature who works for Lady Seabridge is a spiteful little minx and Charles can do much better.”
Felix groaned inwardly. “It was Lady Belinda Madox-Brown’s maid.”
There was a sudden silence in the carriage and Felix knew his father was now attending the conversation.
“Oh,” Helena said, disconcerted. “Well, I don’t know her, or Lady Belinda, so I could not say. You say you were shopping for Evie yesterday when he met her?”
“Yes,” Felix replied, knowing he was in for it now.
“And you met Lady Belinda?” His mother’s eyes were sharp now, the green flashing with interest in the shady carriage.
“I did,” he said, hoping that may be the end of it. A forlorn hope if ever there was one.
“Is that the first time you’ve met?” his father asked, his tone far too casual.
“No, it isn’t,” Felix said with a sigh. The jig was up, so he may as well come clean. “I met her a few weeks back.”
“Under what circumstances?”
Felix held his father’s gaze, resigned to giving up some information. He could not lie to his father, who could smell an untruth from a mile off.
“She asked me to help her with a small business deal.”
Silence reigned.
“Need I remind you that her father is the Earl of Keston, a man who would ruin this family if given the chance? I’m know it’s him financing that blackguard, Flint, to cause me trouble.”
Felix shrugged, doing his best to look unconcerned, though he knew he was standing on a powder keg. “I don’t doubt it, but I do not see what that has to do with Lady Belinda. She does not share her father’s opinions. Indeed, she was very gracious.”
“Oh, was she?” his father said, a note to his voice Felix did not appreciate.
“Yes,” Felix replied, irritated. “And I don’t see why you sound so annoyed. It was only business. She wanted me to buy a property for her without her father’s knowledge.”
Belatedly, he wanted to cut off his tongue, but he knew at least that his father would not speak a word of it to anyone, his mother either.
“And you did it!” Gabriel exclaimed in anger. “Good God! And what happens when her father finds out what you did?”
“I imagine he will hate me. What will have changed exactly?”
“He’ll tell the bloody world you did something underhanded, find some way to discredit you and say you involved his daughter in some shady affair she was too innocent to understand. What was the property she bought?”
A surge of heat rushed up the back of Felix’s neck. Bloody hell . The last thing he wanted to do was confess the nature of the business Lady Belinda had purchased, and what she meant to do with it. However, if he said nothing, his father would make it his business to find out. Gabriel Knight knew everything that happened in the city and Felix did not doubt he could discover the truth in a matter of days should he put his mind to it. Better to give a little of the truth away and hope that was enough.
“A small place on Hosier Street,” Felix said, not about to tell him it was a print shop.
“What on earth does she want with a property in that dreadful location?” Gabriel demanded, suspicious. “What have you done, Felix?”
“Nothing,” Felix retorted, annoyed now. “I’m not an idiot, Father. I am a good judge of character, and I tell you now, Lady Belinda is nothing like her father. Indeed, I believe she despises his pretensions as much as we do.”
Gabriel snorted and folded his arms, staring at Felix. “And you were out shopping with her yesterday, were you?”
“No! Well, yes, but… I didn’t go shopping with her, only Cat was at Gunter’s with her, and Charles and I stopped early as it was so damned hot—”
“Don’t swear in front of your mother!” his father snapped, which was rich as he was the worst culprit for that, and they all knew it.
“Gabe, do calm down. It’s far too hot for such wrangling. Felix could hardly refuse to speak to her or accompany her and Catherine on a shopping trip. You know what Cat is like when she gets an idea to do something,” Helena said impatiently.
“Thank you, Mama,” Felix said gratefully. “It was exactly that. I could not refuse, but in truth, I believe you would very much like and approve of Lady Belinda, Mama. She is everything a young lady ought to be, which I admit is rather a shock when we know what her father is. But all the same, I do not think it fair that you paint her in the same colours as the earl. Frankly, Father, I am surprised at you of all people being so judgemental.”
His father opened his mouth, clearly ready with a stinging retort, but his mother got there first.
“Gabe, don’t you dare!” she said, holding up a hand. “We are on a family outing to visit our new granddaughter, and I won’t listen to the two of you arguing. It is going to be a happy visit with everyone in a good mood. Do you understand?” she demanded, looking from her son to her husband, green eyes blazing.
“Yes, Mother,” Felix said, though he still glared at his father.
Gabriel merely harrumphed and folded his arms, but he said nothing more.
Felix sat back and tried to relax but tension sang through his veins. His father’s words had struck a nerve, and he worried that he had been rash in helping Lady Belinda purchase the damned print shop. What if she got herself into trouble? What if the earl found out, as his father suggested, and tied Felix to the mess? It would cause one hell of a scandal if the earl accused him of leading his daughter into disreputable business. Surely, he would not ruin his own daughter in such a callous fashion, even if it gave him the means to damage Knight Enterprises’ reputation.
A cold sensation ran down his back. He only hoped that Lady Belinda really did have her head screwed on and didn’t go publishing anything that could cause them all trouble.