Page 5 of A Wicked Business

Felix took her hand with reluctance, being careful to barely touch her fingers as he bowed over it. To his surprise, she pulled her hand free after a fraction of a second, staring at her fingers with a puzzled expression for a moment before returning her attention to the butler and giving him a slight nod. The butler vanished noiselessly, closing the door behind him.

Felix frowned, staring at the closed door and admitting himself rather shocked by her bold behaviour.

“Is that what I’m doing? Calling upon you?” he asked, unable to keep the thread of annoyance from his voice. This beautiful young woman unsettled him, and the knowledge rankled. He was a man of the world and used to being in control of all manner of situations, whether romantic or financial, the realisation that he was not did not endear her to him. So, his words were terse and not in the least friendly. “I rather thought I was answering a summons.”

“Oh, dear,” she said with a soft sigh, her lovely mouth pursing a little. She regarded him for a moment and Felix found himself caught in the blue of her eyes once more. “Have I offended you? That was badly done, I do apologise. Only I thought a businessman of your calibre would not care for the social niceties any more than I do. Please forgive me for hurting your feelings and do not fret over the closed door. Kimble, our butler, is just outside, he is only ensuring we are not overheard. I would trust the dear fellow with my life, but sadly, many of the staff would tattle to my father.”

Felix listened to this apology with increasing aggravation as she made him feel like an oversensitive schoolboy. Yet he was acting like one, so he could hardly blame her. Still, the bold chit’s ill-disguised sarcasm did not help. “You did not hurt my feelings in the least,” he replied coolly. “But I am a busy man, and I do not enjoy mysteries.”

“Excellent, then may we get down to business?” she asked, her blue gaze apparently guileless, though he felt certain she was enjoying herself enormously at his expense. Felix gritted his teeth and sat at her invitation.

“There are other men of business you could have called upon. Why choose the one you know very well your father hates with a vengeance?” He watched her carefully, wishing the sight of her lovely mouth curving into a wicked smile did not do such peculiar things to his equilibrium.

“Because my father hates you with a vengeance,” she replied sweetly and without a trace of remorse. “Oh, do not look so shocked. I would not insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise, though you ought not to insult mine by pretending those other men of business could hold a candle to you. Well, except for your father, but as I believe he would rather set himself on fire than put a foot in this house, that does not help me.”

This comment earned a surprised bark of laughter from him, accurate as it was, and he sighed inwardly as he saw how delighted she was at having made him laugh. The realisation that she was funny, intelligent, and beautiful was not reassuring but he could not keep up his irritation in the light of her pleased smile.

“Pax, my lady,” he said, shaking his head. “I give in. You have succeeded in piquing my interest and getting me here despite my certainty it was a terrible idea. For heaven’s sake, tell me what you would have from me. I do not promise I will help you, but I will hear you out.”

“That, Mr Knight, is all that I ask,” she said, still looking far too pleased with herself for Felix’s comfort.

Belinda hoped she looked calm and every inch the lady her father had brought her up to be, for inside she was quaking. She gave herself a moment to gather her wits by ordering tea, relieved when Kimble appeared at once and the tea tray followed in short order. Busying herself by preparing a cup to Mr Knight’s specifications, she gave herself a stern talking to. Whilst Felix Knight intrigued her mightily, and she had been angling for an introduction to him since the first moment she had laid eyes on him, this was business, nothing more. She needed to keep that thought in the forefront of her mind. It was harder than she might have imagined.

She had seen Mr Knight often at society affairs, though less so in the past year. He had caught her interest from the start, being someone her father despised on principle and therefore a wonderful source of aggravation she could employ if she decided to. Despite her father's lax attitude towards her maid, he always provided her with strict chaperones at balls, preventing any opportunity for her to meet the fascinating man. Mr Knight’s striking good looks and reputation for being as ruthless as his sire had stirred something in her, however, and she had determined to know him, no matter what. When he had walked into her parlour, however, she had known at once he was unlike any man she had ever met before.

It was not that he was handsome, though there was no denying that he was, but that did not make her heart beat faster. Belinda was used to handsome men flirting with her, and no amount of flashing blue, grey or brown eyes or splendid displays of tall, broad-shouldered figures had ever been enough to tempt her into allowing them the slightest liberty, let alone accepting a marriage proposal. There had never been the slightest spark of attraction or interest, the indefinable something that so many poets laboured to describe in writing. Yet when Mr Knight had walked in, he brought with him such a surge of energy, of masculine power and vitality, of sheer confidence, that it had stolen the breath from her lungs. It had taken her far too long to compose herself, and only a lifetime of keeping her thoughts hidden from view had saved her from acting the fool.

His face was hard, full of harsh lines, with a strong, square jaw and a heavy brow that could make him appear serious and rather intractable. This was the young man who had brokered deals on his father’s behalf for vast sums of money without turning a hair. Even she knew he was touted as a man to watch, having inherited his father's ability to turn everything he touched into gold. The seriousness of his mien made it all too believable. Yet his green eyes were lively, and his mouth seemed more inclined to turn up, and these features softened him, making him appear a little more approachable.

And then he’d taken her hand. He’d barely touched her fingertips, giving her the impression he did not wish to be in the same room with her, let alone in proximity, and yet the touch had sent an electrical current snapping up her arm. Alarmed, she’d withdrawn her hand as if he’d bitten her, but even now she could sense the energy radiating from him, giving the room an oddly charged atmosphere that was most unsettling.

Dangerous, she told herself. Handle with care.

It had been sensible advice, and her brain had completely disregarded it by being as provoking as she knew how to be the moment she opened her mouth. She didn’t know what had got into her. Having handed him his tea and prepared her own, she was all out of distractions and found she had to return her attention to the man.

He was staring at her expectantly and Belinda gazed helplessly into eyes of vivid green. She had never seen such a stunning colour, and it was only when Mr Knight cleared his throat impatiently that she realised she was staring and had not said a word for some time.

“I beg your pardon, the colour of your eyes struck me dumb, I do not believe I have ever seen such a glorious shade of green. I am all envy,” she said, the words out before she could stop them. Mortification at having given him such a blatant compliment had the usual effect on her. When her tongue ran away with her, as it often did, Belinda brazened out the ensuing embarrassment by showing no remorse whatsoever. So, when his beautiful eyes widened in shock, she returned a saucy smile and took a sip of her tea, praying he did not notice her hands were shaking.

“Well, then,” she said, hurrying to steer the conversation into safer waters before she drowned herself. “I have no doubt you wish to know the details of the business I desire you to aid me with.” Suddenly the word desire seemed wholly too suggestive, and Belinda took another hasty sip of tea, almost choking herself.

“If you would indulge me so,” Mr Knight replied dryly.

Belinda discreetly cleared her throat and ignored the trace of sarcasm. Her gaze lingered on the large hand curved around the delicate porcelain teacup she had given him. His manners were impeccable, his rudeness to her on arrival notwithstanding, but somehow the teacup was all wrong. He probably ought to be wielding an axe or a broadsword, she mused, only to curse herself for getting distracted again. Really, the man was too agitating for words, and he was only sitting there. Perhaps she ought to contact a different man of business if this was going to become a problem? For all she had arranged this meeting because she was desperate to get to know him, her business venture was indeed serious and close to her heart.

It would not become a problem, she told herself severely. She was a woman of sense and would not allow herself to become distracted, despite great provocation.

“I wish to buy a print shop,” she said, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

Mr Knight’s eyebrows rose a little. “To what end?” he asked curiously. “If you wish to begin a magazine or periodical, there is no need to buy the shop, only to engage them to do as you wish.”

“Yes, Mr Knight, I do understand how business works,” she replied, echoing the dry tone he’d used on her just moments before.

He had the grace to look chagrined and inclined his head, acknowledging a hit.

“I wish to buy a particular print shop,” she carried. “I have had brought to my notice the plight of a young woman, a Miss Sarah Ludlow. The young lady has worked in her father’s shop since she was a small girl and understands the business well. Since her father became ill two years ago, she has run the shop single-handedly and taken it to far greater success than he ever managed.”

Mr Knight nodded to show he was listening and Belinda carried on.