Page 12 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER TWELVE

“ W ell now, do either of you wish to knit?” Mr. Greedy said when the carriage slowed.

“Ah, for my part, I don’t think so,” Ram said. “But Charles may?—”

“My shoulder is not up to that,” he said quickly. “But you did mention once you’d like to knit Flora a scarf, Ram.”

“Come along then. I believe our first knitting group has begun,” Mr. Greedy said.

“Where?” Charles asked, looking around him.

“My guess is it’s that way.” Ram was pointing to a stake in the ground that had a flag attached to it.

“Well done, Mr. Hellion,” Mr. Greedy said like he’d achieved something special.

“We could just go for ices,” Ram said to Charles.

“We will. I just want to make sure Mr. Greedy gets to where he needs to without issue.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Ram drawled.

When they’d passed through the trees, Charles squinted against the sunlight and found people seated on blankets .

“I am not going just to see Miss Althorp, but it would be impolite not to?—”

“Stow it, Charles, this is me you’re talking to. The woman intrigues you,” Ram said. “Also, there is the fact that you said she smells of flowers on a hot summer’s day when the sun brings out their scent.”

“I beg your pardon, but I never said anything like that,” Charles denied vehemently.

“You did, under the influence of what Mr. Greedy had given you that day he set your shoulder.”

“My medicines react differently on people,” Mr. Greedy added.

Miss Althorp did intrigue him. It had started that day in the bookshop when they had shared things that Charles rarely spoke about with anyone, but he was not telling Ram that.

“But after, we are getting ices and checking that my wife, who happens to be your sister, is home safe.”

“I know who your wife is, Ram, and we only just saw her marching down the street twenty minutes ago.”

“A lot can happen in twenty minutes,” Ram muttered.

Charles found blankets with women and to his surprise, Captain Sinclair perched on them.

“Is that the Sinclair twins?” Ram asked as they drew closer.

“I’m quite sure they are married now and have different surnames, but yes, it appears it is.”

“Good Lord,” Ram said. “The Duchess of Raven is there also, and Mrs. Bradbury.”

“Is Cyn comfortable on the ground like that?” Charles asked. “I’m quite sure Leo has no knowledge of where she is right now.” His cousin’s wife looked ready to give birth then and there, her belly was so large.

Violet Althorp was frowning down at what appeared to be a tangle of wool in her lap. She looked up, and her eyes widened briefly as they connected with his, and then she gave him a small smile and looked down once more.

The woman was sweet, he thought. Her chipped bonnet had fat pink ribbons that tied in a bow under her chin, framing her pretty face. She was no more or less beautiful than many in society, but when he saw her, his heartbeat accelerated.

“You’re smiling, Charles.”

“I am being polite, Ramsey. I’m sure you still know how to do that, and if you continue with this and my sister gets wind that I may have an interest in a woman—which, I assure you, I do not—my life will be hell.”

Ram chuckled. “Seated beside Miss Violet Althorp is her sister, Miss Clarissa Althorp, in case you didn’t realize who she was,” his brother-in-law said out of the side of his mouth.

“Thank you.” He’d seen her and possibly even danced with her last year, but they had not talked often.

“What are you doing here, Wolf?” Ram said to the man seated behind the duchess and her sisters. Captain Sinclair was a decorated war hero and married to one of the Duke of Raven’s sisters.

“Did you lose a bet, Wolf?” Charles asked as they reached him.

“Cam bet me I could not eat an entire cake as fast as him.”

“You should know better than to bet anything connected with food when it comes to Cam, surely,” Charles said.

“The bet was decided after a few too many glasses of wine, which is often when men become fools. As we know, nothing throws Cam off food, so he won,” the duchess said.

“Yes, thank you, Cousin,” Captain Sinclair drawled. “Cam was to bring his sisters, but as I lost, I am here.”

“How did you hear about the knitting group?” Ram asked.

“I was handed a pamphlet by my daughter, who said she hopes that one day she could wear something I have knitted. Only your child can pile on that amount of guilt,” the duchess said.

“So she forced us to accompany her,” one of the twins said.

“Now, who needs my help?” Mr. Greedy asked.

“Ram has no wool,” Charles said. “Of course I cannot participate due to my shoulder.”

He then moved out of reach as Ram glared at him.

“All right, Cyn?” Charles touched her shoulder as he reached her.

“I’m knitting my child something. As yet, I’m unsure what, Charles.”

“Well, your knitting has plenty of holes, so it’s suitable for wearing in both the summer and winter months,” he said, making her giggle.

Charles then moved on to where Miss Althorp sat frowning down at her jumble of wool.

“Good day, Miss Althorp.”

“Good day,” she said, raising her eyes briefly. “Do you know my sister, Miss Althorp?”

“Good day,” he said, bowing to the woman who was giving him a look that suggested she would like to see him burned in the fires of hell.

Mr. Alvin thankfully approached her and started talking loudly about her knitting. Charles was sure this was a coincidence, but it gave him a chance to speak to her sister.

“How is your shoulder?” Violet said softly.

“Better, thank you, and as you see, I am wearing my sling. Please allow me to thank you again for what you did for me that day.”

She smiled. “You are welcome.” Her eyes shot to her sister. “We must keep our voices down.”

“You did not tell your family? ”

She shook her head.

“How is the knitting going? I understand you are the reason we are all here?” Charles said.

Violet looked down at her knitting.

It was a mess, with holes and stitches dropped. Charles held out a hand, and what surprised him was that she gave it to him.

“My eldest sister was constantly tangling her knitting,” he said, rectifying what he could. He then handed it back to her. “If you slowed down and approached it in a more methodical manner, I’m sure you would grasp it. You seem fairly intelligent.”

“I am very intelligent,” she said, “but I don’t think knitting is for me.”

“Why are you learning to knit then?”

He watched as her tongue snuck out between her teeth as she attempted another row of stitches and felt his body react. Charles had a feeling this woman could be dangerous to him. On short acquaintance, she’d aroused his interest.

“A friend asked me to learn.”

He’d been right. Tobias had put that on her list.

“Well then you must persist in your knitting to make your friend proud.”

She looked at him then, and their eyes held, and he felt it again, that little pull of something inside him. Her brown eyes and the slight flush to her cheeks out here on a warm day were enchanting.

“Have you started learning Russian?”

“Not yet. I have been a trifle preoccupied with healing,” Charles said.

“The best time to read, surely?” She raised a delicate brow.

“I don’t think I will be able to learn by reading, as I clearly can’t understand the words, and I have yet to find someone to teach me, but I will,” he added, in case she thought he meant her.

“I will,” one of the Sinclair twins called.

“Thank you,” Charles said.

“My fingers are too large for this.” Ram was glaring at his knitting, which was actually even worse than Miss Althorp’s.

“Or you’re not coordinated enough,” Charles added.

“Surely you wish to learn to knit, Mr. Thomas?” Miss Althorp asked.

“No.”

“Because you are a man who feels it is beneath him and a woman’s job?”

“Because I have a sore shoulder,” Charles drawled.

“It seems I’ve left some wool in your carriage, Mr. Hellion. I wonder, Mr. Thomas, would you go back and see?” Mr. Greedy asked.

“I’m quite sure the carriage is rolling around the park to keep the horses warm, Mr. Greedy,” Charles said.

“I shall go and check then,” the man said, struggling to regain his feet.

“I’ll go.” Charles raised a hand to stop him. “You knit.”

He walked back the way he’d come, wondering what it was about Violet Althorp that attracted him.

As he’d suspected, there was no sign of Ram’s carriage. Retracing his steps, he found Violet wandering about in the oak trees, looking at her feet.

“Problem?”

“Mr. Alvin has lost his eyeglass and fears it’s in here.”

“I’ll help you look.”

They walked back and forth over the ground, searching, but neither of them found an eyeglass.

“There,” Violet said suddenly and hurried off to the right.

When Charles reached her, she was crouching before something. He joined her .

“It’s nothing,” she said, disappointed. “Poor Mr. Alvin. I can’t imagine eyeglasses are inexpensive.”

She looked at him, and Charles saw the moment she realized they were close. Neither of them moved.

“I’m sure someone in Crabbett Close will have a spare,” he said softly.

“Mr. Thomas?—”

“Charles,” he said, holding her eyes.

“Charles,” she whispered.

He thought she’d move, but she stayed exactly where she was, looking at him.

“I….” Her words fell away as he cupped her cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and then they were both leaning toward each other, and his lips brushed hers. It was soft and sweet, and he felt the contact through his entire body.

“No!” She reared back suddenly and fell on her bottom. Charles rose to help her, but she scrambled to her feet, rejecting the hand he held out.

“That should not have happened. Excuse me.” She bobbed a curtsy. “I-I must tell Mr. Alvin I can’t find his eyeglass.” She then picked up her skirts and ran from him.

What are you doing, Charles? You can’t simply kiss an innocent woman in a copse of oak trees, where anyone could chance upon you.

But it would have taken ten men to stop him.

When he was once again in control, he headed back to the knitters. Violet was seated by her sister and did not raise her head when he arrived.

“What language are you muttering, Sister?” Charles heard Miss Clarissa Althorp ask Violet as he moved to sit beside Ram and give her some space, as he’d clearly unsettled her.

She loves another , he reminded himself.

“Russian,” Violet said .

“Why do you think someone is stealing the Russian books?” Mrs. Greedy asked the group.

“My family spent a while discussing this over the last few days, and we came up with theories. One is that someone thinks all Russian literature of value should be returned to within its borders,” one of the Sinclair twins said.

Charles thought about that as beside him Ram made more mistakes with his knitting but didn’t appear to notice. Taking it from him, he fixed it as best he could before handing it back.

Ram raised a brow. “If you can knit, why aren’t you?”

“I have a sore shoulder.”

“So you think the London Looter is just stealing books to take them back to Russia?” Clarissa Althorp asked.

“Russian Robber,” Charles said. “It has a better ring to it now that we know it is only Russian books being stolen.”

“I wish I’d thought of that,” Clarissa said. “It’s far better than the London Looter.”

Charles bowed his head, which had her giving him a small smile. Her sister, however, ignored him. They’d shared one kiss, and the hell of it was, he didn’t think he’d ever forget it.

“The second theory is that the books hold something that someone wants to find,” the other Sinclair twin said.

“I told Dev he could be right here,” Wolf said, talking about his cousin, the twins’ brother.

“How so?” Charles asked.

“A Russian man named Pavlov amassed a considerable fortune. His wife and only son died, and he had no other family left alive, so he traveled extensively, but it was London he loved most. He lived the last years of his life here twenty years ago,” Wolf said.

“I’ve heard his name,” Mr. Greedy said.

“Supposedly, Pavlov had many friends in society, and at the time of his death, it was rumored he would leave his entire fortune to his mistress and the son they’d had,” Wolf continued. “But at the reading of the will, there was a substantial sum for them, and a note from Pavlov stating the rest of his fortune was hidden, and books hold the answer to its location.”

Now, everyone—except those that could knit without looking—had lowered their needles and wool and were focused intently on Wolf.

“To this day, no one has found the fortune either here or in Russia. Apparently, there was a notice in a newspaper at the time relating to it.”

“Good Lord,” Violet said.

“But surely the books in his collection held the clues?” Mrs. Greedy asked.

“He had them distributed to bookshops around England just before he passed, and no one knew at the time that any had clues in them,” Wolf said. “Occasionally, so I was told, someone starts stealing Russian books again, and it’s thought this is when a clue is found, but no one can substantiate that.”

“How is it you know this, Wolf?” Ram asked.

Charles thought about the book he’d bought the day he’d run into Violet. An old Russian book.

“I met a Russian man who had distant ties to the Pavlov family in France. He was the one who told me the tale.”

“And the treasure is here in London?” a twin asked—which one, Charles could not be sure.

“As he lived here for the last years of his life, it’s believed so, but again, no one knows,” Wolf said.

“I wonder if the clues found were written in Russian, that would make things doubly hard,” the duchess said.

“Not for Violet, as she has been learning the language for some time now,” Clarissa Althorp said, and to Charles she sounded proud of her sister’s achievements .

“How clever you are, Miss Althorp,” Mrs. Bradbury said.

Charles felt a sudden need to return to his house and look in that book.

“It all sounds off to me,” Miss Alvin said. “Through the hole, around the pole, and out, Mrs. Bradbury,” she added. “It’s the easiest way to remember.”

“Knit one, purl one, please. If we want scarves before winter, we must start now,” Mrs. Greedy said.

“I’m ready for that ice, Ram,” Charles said, getting to his feet.

“Thank God.” His brother-in-law threw down his knitting in disgust.

They said their goodbyes, and everyone but Violet acknowledged him.

She vowed to always love another, and it would do him well to remember that from this day onward. Because while today he’d kissed her, he doubted there would be a second time, and that was not a pleasing thought.