Page 11 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“ W here are you going?”

“Out,” Violet said to her sister as she kept walking to the front door.

“Out where? You do that far too frequently, and I feel I am missing out on something.”

Clarissa, or Cissa as she was known to her siblings, was the second-oldest Althorp and the most uneven tempered. Volatile, beautiful, with dark hair and eyes, she was outspoken, and the arguments between her and their mother were loud and usually had the family running in the opposite direction. She was also the Althorp most likely to start a heated debate when the family was gathered by throwing out a statement that made everyone’s hackles rise.

“Ambrose has appointments, and I am going to drive around the park until he returns.” Violet didn’t meet her sister’s eyes because this one could spot a lie a mile away.

“Really?” Cissa’s eyes narrowed. “Then I shall accompany you,” she added, reaching for her bonnet.

“I don’t need your company, thank you,” Violet said.

Violet wasn’t sure why Clarissa hadn’t married in her first season, as she was the beauty of the family. The only reason she could come up with was her caustic tongue. Cissa didn’t suffer fools, never hesitated to speak her mind. She was, however, engaged now to a lovely man who adored her and didn’t appear to care about her less-than-sunny nature.

“I’m coming,” Cissa said, reaching for her bonnet.

If she protested, Violet knew her sister would push harder to accompany her, so she gave in.

“Oh, very well.”

Ambrose was sitting inside the carriage, tapping his fingers on his thigh, which suggested he was not happy with how long he’d been waiting.

“Why are you here?” he demanded rudely after Fletcher had helped them into the carriage.

“Violet asked me to accompany her,” Cissa lied. Violet could not be bothered to correct her.

Her plans had been thwarted because her intention had not been to stroll in the park, and now that Cissa was here, she was unsure if she’d ruined everything.

Soon they were rolling through London in comfortable silence like three siblings who saw one another most days and had nothing new to share.

“Close your eyes, Pixie,” Ambrose said. “That crooked building is approaching on the right.”

“I can look at a crooked building, but thank you for thinking of me,” Violet said.

Minutes later, the carriage slowed and stopped.

“Now, you two behave and stay in the carriage, and if you must get out, make sure to walk where other people are,” Ambrose said when they had stopped.

“We are not children,” Cissa said.

Their brother gave them a hard look but said nothing further and left. The carriage rolled on again.

“So what are you really up to?” Cissa asked .

“Why do you think I’m up to something?”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Pixie.”

“Oh, very well, if you must know,” Violet said, pulling out a pamphlet from the pocket of her long coat. “Here.” She thrust it at her sister. “I was going here.”

“Well then, there we shall go,” Cissa said.

“You don’t want to learn to knit,” Violet said.

“No, but I shall be able to laugh at you while you try.”

“I’m not entirely sure where in the park it will be?—”

“Have no fear. We shall find it.”

And that, as far as her sister was concerned, was that. If she said they would find it, then, they would. Clarissa was also the confident Althorp.

The carriage rolled into the park, and they passed through the area the ton frequented, where everyone wanted to be “seen.”

“It says near the river and yet also by a stand of oaks, which is odd, don’t you think?” Cissa was looking out the left window now, and Violet, the right.

Five minutes later, they were in a less-frequented part of the park, and Violet saw a long piece of wood stuck in the ground with something attached to it. She rapped her knuckles on the roof, and the carriage stopped seconds later.

“I think I’ve found it,” she said, opening the door. “Come along, Cissa.”

The sisters stepped down and told the driver to return in an hour to this exact spot.

“Are you quite sure, Pixie?”

“Look.” She pointed to the flag. “I’m sure someone has stitched knitting needles onto that.”

Cissa squinted. “You may be right. Let’s go.”

Before they could move, a man approached on horseback. Violet recognized him as Captain Brownly. She’d danced with him a few times recently and found him pleasant .

“Good day, Miss Althorp, Miss Violet Althorp. Are you in need of assistance?” He raised his hat.

“Good day, Captain Brownly.” They both curtsied. “We are out for a walk,” Cissa added.

“Here?” He looked around them. There were a few people in the distance but not close by.

“As you see,” Cissa said cooly.

“It’s a lovely day for a walk. I shall join you,” he said, preparing to dismount.

“My sister and I wish to walk alone, Captain,” Cissa said, and when she spoke in that tone, most people listened.

Violet was terrified and in awe of her sister at the same time.

He stayed on his horse. “I wanted to speak to you, Miss Althorp.”

The sisters looked up at him.

“Miss Violet Althorp,” he clarified. “I believe you have an interest in Russian literature and are learning to speak the language?”

“I am. How is it you know that, Captain Brownly?”

“My friend Mr. Thomas, who I believe you know, told me.”

“I see,” she said. When had Mr. Thomas spoken to Captain Brownly about her? “How is he?” Violet hadn’t seen him since his shoulder injury and wondered how he fared.

“Very well,” he said, which she thought odd, as a dislocated shoulder was not very well. “If you wish it, I would love to take you driving one day, and we can exchange books, as I also want to learn the language.”

His smile was friendly, and while it would be interesting to see what books he had, Violet didn’t feel ready to go driving with a man—especially as her mother would make too much of it and have them married within a week.

Is Captain Brownly on her mother’s list ?

“Thank you, I will let you know if I am available.” Violet dropped into another curtsy, and then the sisters watched him ride away.

“Captain Brownly seems to like you, Pixie, so I will ask Ambrose and Christopher about him.”

“You do not need to ask your fiancé or our brother, as I don’t return that interest.” Dragging Cissa with her down the worn path, they came to the start of the stand of oaks and the wooden stake in the ground.

“But how is it you know Mr. Thomas, Pixie?”

“I danced with him, and like Captain Brownly, we share a fondness for Russian literature also.”

Cissa shuddered. “Far too complicated for me.”

“A book of fables is too complicated for you.”

“So true,” Cissa said, not insulted in the slightest.

Violet had to be careful who she told what to in her family in case they discussed it with one another. She always skirted the truth without actually lying, so nothing incriminated her.

Continuing on the path through the trees, they came out the other side and found a group of people gathered by the river.

“Good Lord.”

“Indeed,” Violet said.

“Miss Althorp!”

“Who is that man waving at you?” Cissa whispered.

“Hello, Mr. Alvin.”

“I’m pleased you found one of our pamphlets,” he said from his position on a blanket beside Mrs. Greedy and several other women she didn’t know.

“Good Lord, that’s the Duchess of Raven, Captain Sinclair, Mrs. Somerset Charlton, and Mrs. Dorset Charlton,” her sister said. “Lady Seddon and Mrs. Bradbury are here too. ”

Violet found the other women seated on two more blankets, looking like a gathering of hens roosting.

“Good day to you all,” Violet said, moving closer. Everyone who was knitting raised a hand in greeting.

“This is decidedly odd,” Cissa said.

“I will take you to Crabbett Close one day. Believe me, it is an odd yet wonderful place.”

“How is it you know of this place?”

“A friend lives there,” she said vaguely.

“What friend?”

“One you don’t know.”

“Pixie, as you know I’m the Althorp who can lie with ease, you are not.”

“Actually, Ambrose surely has that title.”

Her sister considered that. “Perhaps,” she conceded.

“Come sit. We’ve enough supplies to get you both started. The duchess brought us a boxful,” Mrs. Greedy said. “We’ve a few more Crabbett Close residents here to help you all.” She then introduced Tabitha Varney, and Mavis Johns who Violet had already met. “And can I say how delighted I am that so many of you have joined us today.”

Violet sat with Cissa, and they were handed needles and wool. The lessons then began.

Twenty minutes later, her sister had mastered it, and Violet was still clueless as to how to knit without dropping every stitch. But she would persevere for Tobias.

“You are too rough, Violet,” Cissa said. “Stop tugging the wool off the needles.”

She was sitting there, chatting with Mrs. Bradbury and knitting, looking like she’d been doing it her entire life. It was extremely vexing to watch.

“You didn’t even want to learn to knit.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Cissa said. “I think it could be just what I need to occupy my time when?— ”

“You’re seeking to take vengeance on some poor, unsuspecting family member?” Violet asked, dropping yet another stitch. “About to maim someone?”

“Such anger in one so young,” her sister said with a serene smile.

Violet thought about how to ask the Crabbett Close residents about Mr. Thomas’s condition without her sister knowing what she was doing.

“Now, I always find a good way to remember how to knit is through the hole, around the pole, and out,” Mrs. Greedy said, her needles moving so fast, Violet couldn’t keep up with them. She could say with absolute certainty she could never do that. Her sister, however, was another matter entirely, she thought bitterly.