Page 13 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

V iolet stood with Clarissa, Octavia, and their mother in the front entrance awaiting their father so they could leave for their social event this evening. In her hand was the page of newspaper Tavi had cut out for her to read.

“Do not get ink on your clothing or your gloves, Violet. In fact, put that down at once. No man wants a woman who is a bluestocking,” her mother said, the tall feather in her hair quivering.

Elegant, with the Chippington gold and emerald choker around her neck, her mother looked every inch the lady she ensured everyone knew her to be in a gown of emerald satin.

“Yes, heaven forbid we have brains,” Cissa drawled, also stunning in an ivory dress with a sheer overskirt.

Violet’s eyes skimmed the page quickly. She’d read every installment of The Adventures of Mr. Salvador , and this was the first chance she’d got to read today’s, as her brother and father always browsed the Trumpeter first. Damn them.

When Violet didn’t move quick enough, her mother snatched the paper from her hands and handed it to the butler, who was hovering nearby.

“Put it in my room, please, Fletcher,” Violet said to him.

“At once, Miss Violet.”

“Father will smell of pipe smoke when he finally emerges,” Octavia, third-eldest Althorp sibling, said.

Unlike the others, she had red-gold hair, which apparently their great-aunt had. She was the sweetest natured, if that was possible in this spirited family. The Althorp most likely to put out a fire if required.

“I like that smell actually,” Clarissa said.

“Yes, well, he better hurry, or I shall be most displeased,” their mother snapped. “There will be discussion about the musical, and I want to be there to hear it and ensure everyone is coming who was invited.”

“Why must we continue to perform, Mother? There are plenty who actually want to make a spectacle of themselves each season,” Violet said.

“You will not make a spectacle. You are all accomplished musicians, and you girls still have a few days left to practice. Stop being dramatic, Violet.”

“Why is Ambrose exempt from practice?” Cissa snapped. “No, wait.” She raised a hand. “Let me guess. His fortune will net him a wife, whereas your three unwed daughters will struggle to find husbands unless we are seen in a favorable light?”

“Desist,” their mother hissed.

“How lucky that I already have a fiancé, Mother,” Cissa added. “Or are you worried he will back out?”

“Clarissa, if you don’t?—”

“Well now, don’t you all look nice.” Violet’s father appeared at the top of the stairs before their mother could launch into an argument with her eldest daughter. He then wandered slowly down, elegant in his evening clothes. “Are you waiting for me?”

“Who else would we be waiting for?” Clarissa snapped.

“For at least ten minutes,” his wife added.

“Surely not.” He winked at Violet, who looked at her feet so she didn’t laugh.

Lord Chippington was a tall man with hair that was turning from brown to gray. His brows were always in need of a trim, and his face was a little saggy, and Violet loved him dearly.

“We will be late,” his wife said.

“Well then, if there is haste needed, haste there will be, so we shall proceed to the carriage,” he said.

Octavia grabbed Violet’s hand and towed her outside the house and into the carriage.

“I’m not going to flee, Tavi,” Violet said. “No matter how much I wish to.”

“Yes, well, one never knows with you.”

Violet sat wedged between the side of the carriage and her father, and as they had since the day she’d gone to learn to knit in the park, her thoughts went to that kiss Mr. Thomas had given her. In no way could she say she hadn’t wanted it because she’d had plenty of time to pull away. But the guilt after had been heavy. It felt like she’d betrayed Tobias.

Never, not one time, had a kiss from Tobias made her feel as that kiss from Mr. Thomas had, and that produced yet more guilt. She wasn’t sure what to do now or how she felt.

The rational side of her nature told her that she’d done nothing wrong…. Well, perhaps kissing in a place anyone could see them was wrong, but for a brief moment, it hadn’t felt that way; it had felt wonderful.

“Are you all right there, Pixie?” her father whispered .

He knew all the nicknames his children had given one another, and when his wife wasn’t listening, he used them.

“Excellent, thank you, Father.”

“You will dance with Lord Sanderson tonight, Octavia.”

“Can we not for once have a pleasant ride to a social engagement without you prepping your as yet unwed daughters on who they should dance with, Mother?” Clarissa snapped. “Honestly, I feel like a piece of haddock for sale at the market.”

Violet could do nothing to stop the giggle. Her father elbowed her gently. His face, Violet noted, was somber, but she knew his blue eyes would be twinkling.

“I find I must side with Cissa on this, Mother,” Tavi said. “Not the haddock part,” she added quickly. “But I, too, find it hard to be constantly on the lookout for a husband.”

“But that is your one and only focus this season,” Lady Chippington snapped.

“Seems a trifle hard, my love,” Lord Chippington said. “After all, they have much to offer, and we are not in the poorhouse as yet, so there is no?—”

“There is every need,” his wife interrupted him. “The Duchess of Haven has six daughters. Six! All are wed or engaged to be so. Then there is Lady Kendal, who has four. Two are wed, and the other two will be coming out next year.”

“So what you’re saying is that you wish to win the race to get all your daughters married off first?” Violet’s father asked.

Cissa snickered. Tavi looked out the left window, and Violet, the right.

“It is not a game! I wish them happiness, of course.”

“And that can only be achieved if we marry a wealthy and titled man?” Violet asked the glass. “We can find no other way to reach a fulfilled and happy life? ”

“Of course you can’t! You’re a woman,” Lady Chippington snapped.

“Well, I, for one, am thinking of marching with the suffragettes next week,” Cissa said with her usual ability to heap more coal onto an already-raging fire.

The silence following this statement was deafening for about five seconds.

“I beg your pardon?” The words came out dipped in ice from their mother.

“You had to say that here, while in a small, confined space with the two most volatile members of the family present?” Violet said, glaring at her sister. “And I mean you and Mother.”

While Violet may agree with marching, she would do so quietly without her mother knowing. Cissa always had to make a production out of everything.

“I am not volatile!” her mother shrieked, making them all wince.

“Well, I want to walk with them, and you told me you did too,” Cissa said, taking Violet down with her.

“I will not allow it!” their mother yelled. “Never, do you hear me? You will never wed if it is found that you did such a thing. I will be saddled with you all forever.”

“Saddled!” Cissa hissed.

The debate between her mother and Cissa raged on while the other occupants in the carriage looked out windows or pretended not to listen. Their father offered the odd word in his capacity as head of the family, but really it was hopeless. They would keep at it until they were done, which would be when the carriage stopped.

“That will do, both of you,” her father finally said. “We have arrived.”

Mother and daughter fell silent, both fuming.

“Excellent, at least we are all entering with smiles on our faces,” Violet said as she got out of the carriage. “The night has started with promise.”

Tavi took her arm and squeezed. “I don’t know why they bother. No one ever wins an argument between them.”

“I think they enjoy it, to be honest, and don’t care that we are forced to listen.”

“You’re probably right.” Her sister sighed.

“I loathe these things, Tavi. I have no idea how you’ve been doing it for longer than I have.”

“Just be yourself, and all will go well.”

They walked behind other guests toward the town house.

“You will be awed by the extravagance inside these walls, Pixie,” Tavi whispered. “They did not host an event last year, so you did not get to see it. You think our town house is grand? This place is that and more. The gardens, too, are spectacular.”

Her sister chatted as they entered behind her father, mother, and Cissa. They nodded, curtsied, and did what was expected of them. Violet wondered if this was to be her life from now on—especially if she married a peer as her mother wished.

“There are so many servants,” Violet whispered after they had walked into the ballroom.

Light and color were everywhere. The servants wore black jackets with gold trim and wandered about, offering trays of elegant stemmed flutes filled with champagne to the guests.

Looking up, she noted the biggest chandelier she’d ever seen. Huge paintings with gilded frames hung on burgundy-and-gold walls. Vases as tall as her were filled with colorful long-stemmed blooms. Between the guests and the decorations, color and extravagance were everywhere she looked.

“Now, girls, remember the names I have told you are acceptable for you to speak or dance with. Do not wander anywhere alone, and especially not outside.”

“Is this necessary every time?” Violet said. “And how is it we can refuse people that you think are unacceptable dance partners? It’s rude to refuse if you are not taken, surely?”

“Pretend you have a torn hem,” her mother said.

“Every time?” Cissa demanded. “That’s just silly, Mother.”

Appearances meant a great deal to Lady Chippington, and there was no way she would raise her voice in a room full of her peers, so she smiled with her mouth and glared with her eyes.

“That’s quite the feat, don’t you think?” Tavi whispered to Violet. “I wonder if that will be something we can do when we have children.”

“Come, let us wander,” Cissa said. “Far away from Mother.”

“Didn’t she tell us to stay where she can see us? I can’t remember that portion of the lecture being delivered tonight,” Violet said. “Run before she remembers.”

They walked away and disappeared into the crowds of people. Cissa and Tavi were soon standing in a circle of friends. Violet, who didn’t have a circle to stand in, was with her only friend, Miss Matilda Wilson.

“Don’t frown, Vi, your mother will see.”

“I like frowning. It conveys a great deal without actually speaking.”

Tilly was one of those women that men stopped and stared at. She had a cherublike beauty in her flawless pale skin and soft curves. But if a person thought her nature in any way mirrored her looks, they were sadly mistaken. She had a dry wit that many did not understand and a forthright nature that often had her saying what was better left unsaid. She was a lot like Cissa.

She and Violet found each other the first evening they both entered society. They’d struck up an instant bond, and when they weren’t together, they were usually exchanging notes via a footman.

Tilly’s mother and father were a great deal more lenient than Violet’s parents and put no pressure on their only child to wed. Consequently, she’d turned down proposals from two men already.

“Frowning certainly has its place,” Tilly said, “but not in here. Don’t you think the color of my dress flattering, Vi?”

That was another thing about her friend: She had excessive amounts of confidence, and reticence was not something she was born with.

Looking at the pale mint dress, she thought her friend was right.

“It’s lovely, Tilly. Now be quiet, as I have something to tell you.”

“Something that will alleviate the boredom of another night in society? Mind you, I’m looking forward to the Chippington musical, as you and your siblings are to perform for us, and that will not be boring.”

“Yes, as you can imagine, I am ecstatic about that.”

“Excellent, carry on with your story.”

“Have you heard of the Pavlov treasure, Tilly?”

Her friend thought about that and then shook her head.

“Well, listen carefully because someone told me all about it the other day at knitting group.”

“We’ll come back to the knitting group I knew nothing about,” Tilly said.

She told her friend everything that Captain Sinclair—Wolf, as she now knew him—had said that day in the park.

“And no one has found it?” Tilly asked when she was finished.

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well, I will certainly be on the lookout for Russian books from this moment on. However, now I wish to hear about the knitting group you have not invited me to.”

“I have more to tell you,” Violet whispered. “I helped Mr. Thomas when he fell in the street trying to catch the boy who stole my reticule.”

“Oh, Vi, that must have been terrifying.”

“I was more angry than anything, as Tobias’s list was in it.”

Tilly put an arm around her waist and squeezed. “I’m so sorry. But there is more to this story, isn’t there?”

“He looked ready to faint, so I went in a hackney with him and Miss Dabbers to his house.”

“I would have done the same, but my guess is you have not told your family any of this?”

“I haven’t.” She shook her head. “What are you doing?” Violet then asked Tilly as she rose to her toes.

“Looking for Mr. Thomas, of course. He’s devilishly handsome but untitled, and I’ve not heard if he has money. I doubt your mother would approve.”

“Of what? I am not marrying him. I merely helped him.” Then let him kiss me and enjoyed it . She was not telling her friend that, however.

“My night is now complete.” The deep drawled words had Violet looking over her shoulder and finding Ambrose there.

“Wonderful, and I was just starting to enjoy myself,” Violet said.

“Good evening, Pixie. Good evening, Miss Wilson.”

Tilly and Ambrose had disliked each other on sight. Possibly because her friend had told him that he needed to be nicer to his little sister. To which he’d replied that his family life was none of her business and to keep her thoughts to herself. Now, whenever they saw each other, they bickered.

“Would you like to dance?”

Tilly looked as shocked as Violet when Ambrose held out his hand to her. After shooting Violet a confused look, she took the hand.

“You, go find Tavi and Cissa and stay with them,” Ambrose said, pointing to the right. “They’re a few feet that way.”

“People are constantly giving me orders,” Violet muttered, going left.