Page 63 of A Wicked Business

The three men all turned accusing gazes upon Mr Flint.

“My wife is unwell,” he said doggedly. “She’s prone to fits of hysteria, I’m afraid. We’ve been in town consulting a specialist but there’s nothing to be done. I’m taking her to a local asylum. They’ll know how to look after her there, the poor creature.”

Whilst Flint didn’t look or sound the least bit sorry, the men appeared uneasy, and Belinda glared at Mr Flint. He was clever indeed, for anything resembling madness or insanity would have most people recoiling in horror. Getting involved in a scene between husband and wife was even worse and she could well understand the men’s obvious reluctance to help her.

“My betrothed will come after me, Mr Flint,” Belinda said calmly, trying to look as far from hysterical as she could, though it became increasingly difficult as her panic rose. “Gentlemen, I am Lady Belinda Madox-Brown, my father is the Earl of Keston, and this man is abducting me, hoping to get his hands on my dowry.”

“A fairy story, I’m afraid,” Mr Flint said coldly. “She’s fantasising. She’s Mrs Rogers from a small village in Derbyshire, not an earl’s daughter. What a taradiddle, my dear,” he added, and the kindly tone he adopted was by far the most alarming thing he’d yet done.

“Goodness, what a shame. And such a lovely girl, too,” the one called Daffy said, helping Mr Flint get her to her feet.

Belinda struggled, trying to squirm away, but Mr Flint’s fingers closed around her wrist like a vice.

“Wait a minute,” one of the young men said, his eyes widening. “I know her.”

“Come my dear, before we miss our train,” Flint said tugging her arm so hard she thought it would pull from its socket as she dug in her heels.

“Help me, you great idiots!” Belinda shouted at the young men.

“Dash it all!” one of them exclaimed. “That is Lady Belinda! She’s the one that rejected Spoony Spencer and had him telling everyone he was going to join the Foreign Legion! He always was the dramatic sort, though,” he added thoughtfully.

“Will you help me?” Belinda yelled in fury, deciding her only hope now was to make the biggest scene possible.

She lunged at Mr Flint, her hand balled into a fist as Doris had shown her how to do and hit him square on the nose.

He yelled as Belinda experienced a disquieting scrunching sensation, and pain shot through her hand and up her arm. He let go of her hand, though, and stumbled back, clutching his nose. Blood dripped between his fingers, but Belinda was not about to hang around and congratulate herself.

She turned to flee and ran headlong into a hard chest.

“Belinda! Belinda, darling! Are you well? Are you hurt?”

Belinda staggered back a step and stared up, momentarily startled to discover terrified green eyes gazing down at her.

“Felix!” she squealed and threw herself back into his arms.

“Here, he’s getting away!” Daffy exclaimed helpfully.

Felix looked around to see Flint taking to his heels.

“Look after her,” he shouted to his father, before giving chase.

Felix dodged an old lady carrying a fat pug; she yelled after him, lamenting the terrible behaviour of young men. He skidded around a large man dragging a hefty trunk, leapt over a pile of suitcases and careened into a wall before running on, desperate to keep Flint in sight. There was no way on earth the devil was going to get away with what he’d done. He’d been a thorn in both Felix’s and his father’s side for years and now he’d had the temerity to lay hands on Belinda, his card had been well and truly marked. Felix was going to murder him.

As they exploded out of the station, with Flint running pell mell ahead of him, it seemed Felix was not the only one intend on revenge. The earl’s carriage with its distinctive crest on the side in gold and blue paint was before them, the old man climbing unsteadily down with Doris helping him. Felix saw Flint withdraw the pistol from the pocket of his greatcoat a look of such loathing on his face that his intention was unmistakeable.

“No!” Felix yelled as people screamed and scattered in all directions.

Time seemed to stand still. The fact he loathed the earl and had many times wished the world rid of him did not seem to matter. Murdering a man in cold blood was a heinous crime and even the Earl of Keston could not deserve such a fate. Besides all that, this man was Belinda’s father, and he might be the devil himself, but Felix would not allow anyone to take him from her. His death in such a way would devastate Belinda, despite their difficult relationship. These thoughts seemed to race through his mind at a mile a minute, yet he was running through treacle as he forced his body on faster and faster to stop the inevitable.

As he threw himself at Flint, the sound of a gunshot exploded in his ears and the two men crashed to the ground.