Page 20 of A Wicked Business

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.”