A Midsummer Night's Deal - Thomas Shelby x OFC - Peaky Blinders

1.

Took him less than a minute to spot Jack Nelson, Oswald Mosley, and worse than all combined, Oswald's wife, Diana.

"Mr. Shelby!" Diana came smiling as venomously as always, greeting him a little too closely for his, and Oswald's, liking. "I was wondering if you had gotten lost. I'm sure it's your first time in a place like this." She gesticulated around the pompous room. "It's easy for your people to get lost."

"Diana." Oswald gave her a side eye, smirking nevertheless. "Play nice. I'm sure Mr. Shelby hasn't come all this way from his abode to be picked on."

"From what I heard, all three of them died. Those nationalists took full responsibility for the attack." An old woman who had an unbearable smell of funeral flowers whispered as she walked past them, eying him with disdain.

"Well, Mosley,  haven't, indeed. Especially by two low-ranked pricks that shouldn't be here in the first place." His tone was as smooth as the liquor he sipped on.

"I beg your pardon?" Oswald scoffed, his face turning red from anger.

"Oh, forgive me, I thought you knew. You see, you can't help to hear people gossiping in a place like this." His dark brows knitted together, faking confusion as he glanced around the room, gesturing discreetly. "It's all they talk about." He raised one suggestive eyebrow, just in time to spot the older woman from before who pointed and whispered, as she wore her best jewelry, desperate to bring some light to her wrinkled and faded by-time face.

Diana's face turned into a bitter scowl mask but quickly masked up when Jack Nelson came by accompanying Lord Harold, followed by his two children. Twins, Edgard, and Genevieve. Wicked mean-spirited people with even more wicked ways of living, Thomas had heard.

"My apologies for keeping you all waiting!" Harold said with a smile that didn't reach his grey eyes. "I'm afraid I got caught up in family matters."

"Nonsense, Harold." Diana reached her hand but Genevieve's sneer was faster. "Lord Tate."

"Rutherford." Edgard corrected. "Is Lord Rutherford, not Harold, not Tate. Lord Rutherford."

"Alright, you two. Enough picking on my guests, that's extremely rude and unlike you." Something in his tone told Thomas that this was exactly like them. "Why don't you two check on your sister, and see if she'll join us for dinner? Take Lady Diana with you." Harold's fake smile dropped as did his facade as soon they left. "Children." He scoffed. "Good to pass your name on, nothing else. Don't you agree Mr. Shelby?"

All eyes turned to him who had been bored out of his mind in this conversation.

"I don't have children." He simply said, happy to see Diana gone. Ever since she tricked him into her bed, she has been more unbearable than ever. He wondered if Oswald knew.

"Nor wife?" Harold frowned his forehead, remembering the extensive report someone brought. He could swear he read the word wife .

"Not anymore."

"Oh, I see." Oswald hid his smile, knowing that Lizze had left him when she learned he had cheated on her with Diana. That was the last drop.

This led him to sit at the table, having something similar to what he compared to the Last Supper, except there was no Peter's or John's, all but Judas's around him, in a place that had absolutely no resemblance of anything holy. At least, Jesus had eleven left, I have one , he thought as he glanced at Arthur. Maybe less .

"Well, at least the mourning suits her." The elderly crone from earlier continued gossiping. "Do you think she's with child?"

"Gladys!" Someone reprimanded her but she ignored it. "Stop it, they'll hear you."

"Please, she didn't even bother to learn the language, not even after her engagement! Spent all her life in sunny Spain, not a word in English. She should thank her uncle, if it was up to me, she could rot elsewhere." Her tone was harsh, as harsh as the paint she had on her face, the red blusher making her look like a doll, in the worst way imaginable.

"Mr. Shelby, may I have a word?" The host asked, as discreetly as he could, leading him through long, never-ending halls, finally reaching what he figured to be his office. "So, do we have a deal?" He asked as he opened the door, signaling to the girl sitting by the window. "I give you my blessing, you marry my niece."

"But you get to keep the winery." Thomas nodded, looking at her for the first time. She had dark hair, such as him, bright but tired eyes, such as him, highborn and noble, not like him. "I heard that she doesn't speak the language."

"Oh, our Ellie is keen to learn it, however, we do have a maid that came from her old house, she's been our guide in the meanwhile." Harold sounded almost like a regular vendor, trying to upsell his rotten fruits. "It won't be a problem, but a blessing in a business such as yours, Mr. Shelby."

"Can you leave us for a moment?" He asked, looking intensely at the girl who seemed worried. "I would like to talk to her alone."

"Do you speak the language, Mr. Shelby?" The host said in disbelief, but one cold glare was more than enough, so he left the room."

"Well, my condolences." He said, lighting up his cigarette but she just kept looking at him as if she was trying to read him. She was from the Spanish nobility, being raised somewhere he knew he wouldn't belong but at this point, she looked more out of place than him. "Not a word in English, eh?"

The girl sighed and looked away, not managing to hold his inquisitive gaze. Thomas was suspicious by nature, he wouldn't lower his guard, not in a place like this, but curiosity and drunkenness spoke louder.

"I hear your relatives are dead." He jabbed. No response. "That you're the sole heir to an impressive winery your fucker of an uncle is after."

She looked at him as if had a second mouth on his forehead, looking confused as ever.

Nothing yet.

"You know what I think? I think that snobs bastards, heirs if you will, just like yourself are what is wrong with this country. Leeches, feeding off the poor and the common man. If you ask me, your father, brother, and groom had it coming."

Still, nothing. She sat down, fidgeting her fingers, nervously looking around the room.

"Maybe I should just kill him, marry you, and keep the winery to myself." He pondered, circling her. "What would you think of that?"

"You wouldn't!" Her words were vigorous, the fire in her eyes much like his now as she held her hands to her lips, her eyes wide in shock.

He was indeed shocked but remained calm and collected, as usual. "I thought you didn't speak the language."

"I'm a fast learner." Her accent was noticeable, not as thick as he would expect from someone who was still learning. "As are you."

"What makes you say that? I'm sure your family will be as impressed as I am."

"You won't tell him." She sighed, clutching her crucifix. "They won't believe you. I know that because you know you need a more better wife. A wife that even as foreign, holds more credibility than you. That's why you came here."

"Better wife, not more better."

"Forgive me, I'm still learning, as you know." The girl paused, for a second, faking embarrassment. "I can cry if you want to, now or...at the wedding." She smiled faintly for a moment, and he knew he found what was needed, not what he wanted. But if she was up for the part, who was he to deny her that? "Do we have a deal?" He nodded slightly and noticed how her shoulders relaxed, relieved.

"Save it for the wedding."

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