Page 44 of A Wicked Business

“Ah,” Ashburton said, lifting one elegant blond brow but otherwise showing no other sign of interest or surprise. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Felix said shortly, and crossed the room to stand in front of Belinda.

Looking up at him, Belinda felt suddenly small and fragile and rather out of her depth. Yet there was a thrill of excitement rushing through her veins too, an urgent desire to know exactly how far Mr Knight would go to stop her engagement to Ashburton and, more importantly, why. “Lady Belinda. I owe you an apology. I behaved very ill yesterday. My only excuse is… is…”

“Yes?” she asked, her voice sounding oddly faint.

“Is that I lose my wits when I’m near you,” he said with a sigh. “You’re a dreadful girl and marrying you will probably give me heart failure before I’m forty, but I think I must do it. Ashburton here can’t know what he’s getting himself into or he wouldn’t be in such a damned hurry. I’m sorry if I seemed less than enthusiastic at the prospect when you asked me yesterday, but the truth is you scare me to death.”

Despite the rather unromantic words, Belinda’s heart leapt, and a smile curved her lips. “A not uncommon reaction,” she admitted.

Felix laughed. “I do not imagine it is. You need someone with nerves of steel and a good deal of confidence. Luckily for you, that description fits me rather well.”

“Do you mean it?” she whispered, gazing up at him in wonder.

“I’m rather afraid I do,” Felix said ruefully.

Belinda gave a startled little laugh and covered her mouth with her hands, tears springing to her eyes. Felix moved closer and took her hands, smiling down at her when a polite cough disturbed the moment.

“I beg you will forgive me the interruption, but am I to understand that Lady Belinda proposed to you yesterday, Felix?” Ashburton demanded.

“She did,” Felix said, looking rather smug. “You were her second choice. No hard feelings, old man. She’s a practical girl.”

Ashburton gazed at him for a long moment. “I need a drink,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh, might I join you, my lord?”

Ashburton turned and stared at Miss Bodrott in surprise, having not remarked her in the chaos of the past minutes. “Who the devil are you?”

“Doris Bodrott, my lord,” Doris said, giving him a hasty curtsey. “Lady Belinda’s maid.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Ashburton muttered. “Brandy will be acceptable?”

“Yes, my lord. Perfect,” Doris said, grinning at him.

“I’ll take one of those if I may,” Larkin said.

“Me too, and I think my betrothed needs a drop, too. You’re looking a little pale, love,” Felix said, patting Belinda’s hand. “Come, sit down,” he added, guiding her to a seat.

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

“Well, one never knows what the coming day will bring,” Ashburton muttered, shaking his head. He looked up at a knock on the library door, wondering who was likely to come crashing in on him next. “Come.”

Mrs Harris appeared in the doorway and her face fell as she saw the assembled company. “Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord. I did not know you were occupied.”

“No, no, Mrs Harris, do come in. It seems I am holding an open house today,” Ashburton said dryly. “Here, have a brandy.”

He pressed a glass into her hands, pleased and amused by the shock in her eyes. “B-But—”

“No, Mrs Harris, I insist. We are celebrating, you see.”

“We are?” she said, giving him an intent look that made him frown.

“Yes. An engagement. Lady Belinda Madox-Brown has just agreed to marry Mr Knight here.”

Mrs Harris took a large sip of her brandy. “Then I must offer you many congratulations, my l—wait, what? Did you say Mr Knight?”

“Yes, I said Mr Knight,” he replied, registering her surprise. “Did you just congratulate me—Ah, Tilly has been listening at keyholes, I suppose,” he said, shaking his head.