Page 23 of A Wicked Business

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.

9th 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.