Page 22 of A Wicked Business

Chapter 7

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).

9th 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?”