Page 43 of A Wicked Business

Chapter 13

Dear Jack,

We have arrived safely in town. It’s hot and dusty and smelly and I so miss the peace of the countryside and our lovely home. But I must not think of it, or I shall lose my temper all over again and what little china I have has already suffered more than I can afford. Yet I am heartsick and want to rage at Papa for what he has done to us, and at the same time I miss him so dreadfully I want to cry and not stop. Oh, what a terrible mess it all is. I cannot help but remember how frustrated I was by life just a few short months ago, and yet now with hindsight it seems my life was an idyllic existence I cannot bear the loss of.

I know I am making a terrible imposition upon you, forcing you to keep our whereabouts secret, but our stepmother cannot know where we have gone. I will not allow poor Caro to marry that vile man, not while there is breath in my body. I can only pray she will meet a good, kind man whilst she is here and marry him, and then she will be out of danger.

Our new neighbour is a Mr Larkin Weston who was so kind as to help carry the heavy packing cases inside for us, for we still have no servants. Mr Larkin’s valet has been so good as to make some arrangements for us and we shall have a maid of all works, a cook and a lady’s maid arriving tomorrow. Thank heavens for Aunt Constance is rather a trial to my nerves.

How I wish I had a female relation who could advise me. Papa was so rackety after Mama died, I never had a come out of my own and now I am feeling all at sea. I must hope I can make friends who will be good enough as to guide me how to go on.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mrs Magdelina Finchley to her friend and neighbour Mr Jack Woolgar.

5th August 1850, Montagu House, St James’s, London.

Belinda stared down at the paperwork in front of her and blinked as the words blurred. She had returned home to discover Doris had gone out with no one any the wiser as to her whereabouts, and so she had come directly to Montagu House. Dispirited and disappointed that her staunchest ally seemed to have deserted her when she needed her the most, Belinda had spent the past several hours going through plans for His Grace and Disfavour and several other books and pamphlets she had agreed to publish, but her energy had already been low. Now a headache throbbed behind her eyes and the reading had left her exhausted. “Is it all as you requested?” Ashburton asked politely and Belinda lifted her head, dismayed to discover she had been wool gathering and had not yet finished the first page.

“I’m quite certain it will be, but I think I must take these home with me, if you do not mind. The day has been a rather trying one and I have a headache.”

“Of course. There is no rush on my part, it is only your father’s timetable that makes the necessity an urgent one.”

Belinda nodded. “Indeed. But we can agree on the details of this contract between ourselves at our leisure, so long as my father puts aside whatever Machiavellian plot he has in mind for my future.”

“Is he so very ruthless?” Ashburton asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, yes, when it suits him. I have never been in any doubt that I am a possession to be bargained over when the time was most profitable. I sometimes fear that in my father’s eyes, I am perishable goods that he must be rid of before I spoil.”

Ashburton grimaced. “That is a rather appalling prospect for any young woman. Are you sure he cares so little?”

Belinda shrugged. “Oh, sometimes I believe he has some fondness for me, out of duty if not affection, but certainly not enough to change his plans. Surely you know this is reality for many women, whether or not the case is presented in such an ugly light?”

Ashburton nodded, his expression bleak.

“So, when will you call on my father?”

“Soon. I have some commitments that I must honour, but at the first opportunity, I promise,” Ashburton said as Belinda gathered up the papers and slid them into the leather folder he had provided.

She nodded and got to her feet in relief. She wanted a bath and to go to bed with a good book. Something bloody and Gothic would be best. Perhaps if she lost herself in the trials and tribulations of some poor heroine as she evaded an evil villain, her own difficulties would seem less awful.

Ashburton frowned and turned towards the door as sounds of a disturbance in the hallway beyond reached them in the library.

“Stay here,” he said quietly, aware that it would do her no good to be found alone with him. But before he reached the door, it flew open, and Felix Knight strode in.

“Felix!” Ashburton exclaimed with obvious shock at the sight of his friend bursting in on him.

Belinda gasped, her heart hammering at the sight of the man she had cried over the previous night. He was wild-eyed, his hair in disarray, and he was flanked by Larkin Weston and Doris! Belinda gaped at her maid, wondering what on earth to make of it all.

A harried looking footman brought up the rear. “I beg your pardon, Lord Ashburton. They barged past me before I could do a thing and—”

“Don’t worry, Francis,” Ashburton said. “Leave us.”

The footman hurried out, giving the assembled company a last worried glance before closing the door behind him.

“Well, Felix, is there a reason you have crashed into my home without a by your leave?” Ashburton asked coolly.

“There is,” Felix replied, though his gaze was fixed on Belinda in a way that made her heart thud very hard indeed. “And I tell you now that you’ll marry Lady Belinda over my dead body.”

Belinda’s already overexcited heart gave an odd leap in her chest, and she reached out to steady herself, grasping the back of the chair upon which she had been sitting just moments earlier.