Page 65 of A Wicked Business

Gabriel Knight took charge of the situation, dealing with having Flint carted away, and in a short time they were in one of the station’s private carriages, being taken back to Grosvenor Square. Felix peeled off his coat and his father tore the ruined sleeve so Belinda could contrive a makeshift bandage. Before she did so, Gabriel fished out a small silver flask and poured some of the contents over the wound, which Belinda was relieved to see was quite small, if ragged and angry.

Felix gnashed his teeth and muttered under his breath but, in Belinda’s opinion, endured quite heroically as she tied the bandage in place.

“My men have Flint securely confined in one of the station’s offices,” said Gabriel Knight, “but I left word that the police could contact us at home, so we’ll no doubt have visitors soon enough. I’m afraid there will be a scandal,” he added, looking between Belinda and Felix.

“No, there won’t,” Felix replied placidly. “Nothing to speak of, anyway, for we’ll be married before the end of the week.”

He turned his gaze upon Belinda, who blushed.

“B-But you wanted more time! You did not wish to rush into—” she said, appalled that circumstances compelled him to do the honourable thing.

“The devil take me for a fool,” he said in disgust, using his good arm to pull her closer. “I might have lost you today. I’m not taking any chances. I want every minute of every hour of your time, every day, and week and month. Every year. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.” Belinda laughed, a little overcome, especially by the fact he had declared himself before his father. Her overworked emotions began to crumble, and she found herself laughing and crying at once.

“You’ll get nothing done!” she protested.

“Oh, I don’t know, my father seems to manage it,” he said, smirking at the man.

Gabriel Knight laughed and nodded, looking smug.

“Indeed,” he said. “I do.”

Her father, to her surprise, kept the police away from her for two full days, until he deemed her fully recovered. According to Doris, the earl had hovered outside Belinda’s door like a mother hen, enquiring after her health at intervals. He’d bothered their cook, demanding broth and jellies and any other sickroom fare be made for her to tempt her appetite. Happily, cook ignored this on Doris’s instruction and sent up rather more robust offerings more to Belinda’s taste.

More astonishingly, he had allowed Felix to send flowers and notes to his betrothed without a word of complaint, and for Belinda to write back.

Belinda was a little dismayed to discover how tired she was and slept for hours. Nightmares plagued her a little; once she woke and almost slapped Doris, whom she mistook for Mr Flint.

However, after a good rest and being reassured by Doris that Charles had visited Felix and found him in excellent spirits, and having been stuffed like a Christmas turkey on the increasingly hearty plates of food that kept arriving at her door, she felt her old self again. As she made her way down the stairs, her heart gave a flutter of excitement for Felix had told her he would call upon her this afternoon.

She decided to wait for him in the library. She had always found it the most restful and comfortable room in the great mausoleum her father called home.

As Belinda entered the room, it startled her to see the earl standing at the window. He rarely left his study at this time of day if he was home.

“Good afternoon, Papa,” she said as he turned to look at her.

“Belinda,” he said, an odd note to his voice that she could not read. He did not move, just stood and stared at her.

“I am quite well,” she said reassuringly, looking at him with concern. He looked older and, though the haggard grey look had left him, his expression was still careworn.

“I owe you an apology.” He spoke stiffly, standing up straighter, as though he were before a firing squad and determined to behave with courage. “That young man of yours was right, I’m afraid. I have not appreciated the good fortune bestowed upon me. You have been a wonderful daughter, and… and I have failed you. I sought to use you for my own ends and in doing so I... I nearly—”

“Oh, Papa!” Belinda ran to him and took his hands.

She had thought many times how gratifying it would be to see her father brought low, to see him realise what he might have had if he had only cared for her a little. But now, to see the proud man so diminished squeezed her heart. She did not wish to see him crushed, only to have a little humility and understanding for others, and perhaps, at last, he had learned that much.

“Papa, I do not care about that past, only let us go forward as friends now. Let me be a part of your life as you have never let me before.”

He nodded and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She could not remember her father ever having embraced her so before. A lump rose in her throat, and she hugged him back.

“Papa,” she said on a sob.

“Stop that now,” he said, his voice stern but laced with humour. “I refuse to weep before you, but I shall if you keep on.”

Belinda laughed a little, as she was meant to, but as she looked up into his austere face, she knew she must not allow him to think she would carry on doing his bidding, just because he was kinder to her.

“Papa. I am going to marry Felix Knight,” she told him, watching his reaction with her heart thudding behind her ribs.

He let out a deep sigh and nodded. “It seems a crime to let a prize like Ashburton slip through your fingers but… but I accept your decision. I have made enough of your life unhappy, Belinda. I will not be responsible for ruining your future. Besides, it seems I owe the fellow my life. It would be rather ungrateful of me to refuse, in the circumstances.”