Page 17 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

R eading the newspaper Fletcher had pushed under the small gap beneath her door early this morning, Violet wandered into the parlor.

Mr. Salvador crept along the damp stones to reach the door. Darkness, like a cloak cast from the heavens, covered the night sky, obscuring the stars and moon. His heart hammered as he placed his hand on the rough wood. Pushing, the old hinges creaked. Opening it wide enough, he stepped inside and saw ? —

Turning the page, she found an advertisement for Universal Clothes Wringers and a throat tonic that had made her feel worse when she’d taken it a few days ago.

“What are you doing?”

“There is no more,” Violet said, looking at her brother, who was lounging before a large tray of food. “Of The Adventures of Mr. Salvador . The last sentence has left me hanging, and I need more!”

“Ah.” Ambrose threw a cube of cheese into the air and caught it in his mouth. “Yes, frustrating, to be sure. I read that too. What do you think was inside the door?”

“When is the next installment?” Violet snapped. “It’s exceedingly shabby of the paper to do this to us again. Every installment they leave us hanging.”

“Or exceedingly smart,” Ambrose said. “Now, as you look better than the ghostly apparition I visited several days ago, I am accompanying you shopping.”

“I don’t want to go shopping, and especially not with you,” Violet said.

She had woken with a sore throat seven days ago and been sent to bed by her mother, who tolerated illness about as well as eye-rolling. There she had stayed until she was once again healthy, although her cough still sounded like a dog barking.

“Besides, I thought I might visit Tilly, as she will provide intelligent conversation.”

“I’m not sure she’s a good influence on you,” he said, ignoring her deliberate insult about his intelligence. “When I danced with her the other evening, she told me she believed women would one day have the same rights as men.”

“I agree,” Violet said, and not just because she liked to disagree with Ambrose. “Women are of equal intelligence, and one day men will realize that.”

“I’m not getting into this because we will never agree.”

“Because I am a woman with brains, and you are a man with none.”

He gave her a hard look, which she returned with a smirk.

What she had actually wanted to do was send a note to Mr. Thomas at Crabbett Close to organize somewhere for him to hand her the note. Violet wanted to translate that paper he’d found inside the book desperately.

“Why do you not want to go shopping with me?” Ambrose asked, tossing another cube of cheese into the air and catching it in his cavernous mouth. “I have excellent fashion sense.”

“I suppose one of those silly ladies who fawn all over you told you that, did they? Oh, my lord, what exquisite style you have,” Violet mimicked in a sickly sweet voice.

Ambrose hurled a cube of cheese at her, and she caught it, then popped it into her mouth.

“I always forget how devilishly quick your reflexes are,” he muttered. “Open up. Let’s see if I can get a cube into your mouth from here.”

He threw the cheese, and Violet stepped left and caught it with ease.

“Actually, we are not going shopping, but I told Mother that. I have to deliver something for Father and wondered if you wanted to join me. After that, there is a wonderful tavern that has food that melts in your mouth,” Ambrose said.

“Mother would never allow me to go to such a place without a maid.”

“Ah, but she trusts her eldest child implicitly.”

Violet felt a flicker of excitement at the prospect of getting out of London, but Ambrose rarely did anything without an ulterior motive.

“Why are you taking me?”

His sigh was loud. “Yes, my wonderful brother, I would love to accompany you.”

“Fine, yes, I will accompany you, but why are you not taking?—”

“Tavi hates riding, and Cissa will talk my ear off, so you were left and the least offensive. Plus, the ride will do you good. You’re still pale.”

“Charming, and I accept.”

“Well, go do what you must. We leave in thirty minutes.”

“And Mother is all right with this?”

His smile was just a bit wicked. “I told her that Lord Nobel would be there, and as he’s on her list?—”

“Will he be there?” Violet demanded.

“No. ”

“All right then.”

“Also, I am Mother’s favorite child, so she will let me do what I wish.”

“Only because you were born first, and we will one day have to rely on you to make sure we have food on our tables,” Violet said. “But not me. I will have my own income by then.”

“Marrying a man means you will have his income, not yours,” her brother mocked her.

“I did not say through marriage,” Violet snapped. “I don’t think I want to do that. I will make money through my own means.”

Her brother’s eyes softened. “You will marry. Give it time, Pixie. Tobias would wish you to be happy.”

She shook her head to disagree and dislodge the sudden vision of Charles Thomas. The man was in her thoughts far too frequently, as was the kiss they’d shared.

Violet hurried to her room to change. There was still an ache of longing when she thought of Tobias, but it was not as painful now, which worried her. She must never forget him.

Her mother was waiting with her brother when she reached the front entrance.

“Do you have your scarf, Violet? You have been unwell, and I don’t want you to have a relapse.”

“I will be fine, Mother. Thank you for your concern.”

“Come along. No more time to bandy words, as we have things to do,” Ambrose said. “You can trust me to watch over her, Mother.” He then grabbed Violet’s hand and towed her out of the house. When they reached their horses, he picked her up and tossed her onto her saddle.

“Don’t fill her head with business things. This is just a ride to revive her spirits,” her mother called to them.

Ambrose mounted, raised a hand, and they were off.

“You would think I’m incapable of doing anything but stitching and playing music,” Violet muttered. “What’s wrong with my spirits?”

“You can stitch, to be fair. Very neat and not crooked,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Her siblings thought her need for things to be straight excellent fodder for them to annoy her. She would often enter her room and find all her neatly stacked books at odd angles.

“Your sisters and I are worried about you, Pixie.”

“Why?” She looked at him. Her handsome big brother, who caught the eye of many women.

“You have not been yourself since Tobias’s death. We knew you needed time, but it’s been nearly three years.”

“There is no time limit on grief.” The bookshop man had told her that.

“Mother wants you to wed for a title and wealth. We want you to marry for love,” her brother added, surprising her.

Charles Thomas slid into her head again, but she could never love him; it would hurt too much if she lost him.

“I’m not sure I want to love again,” Violet said. “Because losing Tobias was hard, and to do it again would destroy me. I am not as brave as you.”

“You’re the bravest of us all,” he said. “And there are no guarantees when you love someone, but eventually the pain eases.”

“How do you know so much about love when, to my knowledge, you’ve never?—”

“I loved Grandfather very much,” Ambrose interrupted her. “I spent more time with him because I am older than you. He passed not long after you were born. But for a while, he and I, we had fun. I felt his death keenly.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that, Rosie.” Violet reached over and placed her hand on his briefly.

“Love comes in many forms, Sister. Never forget that. ”

She nodded, and for a while, they rode on in silence, both thinking of who they had loved and lost.

Riding was something Violet loved. When the Althorps were in the country, they spent a lot of time on horseback.

“Where are we actually going, Ambrose?”

“To drop some papers Father signed to a man he is doing business with.”

“Oh, the horrors. A nobleman doing business. What will Mother think?” Violet mocked.

“Father is a forward-thinking man and understands that the family coffers need replenishing, unlike others, who will be handing depleted inheritances to their heirs.”

“Does he have many business dealings?” It was not mentioned in the house, so she had no idea what her father and brother got up to.

He shrugged his shoulders beneath his deep blue jacket. “Yes, we have a few interests.”

As she knew he would not elaborate, Violet simply decided to enjoy the day. After all, it was not often she got to ride with her brother.

It promised to be warm, and the scents of London greeted them as they trotted along its streets. Ambrose stopped beside a vendor and bought two pies. Hers was apple; his, meat. They rode, their legs bumping occasionally as they navigated through traffic, and ate.

“I doubt I’ve ever really thanked you, Rosie,” Violet said, “for being there for me.”

All of them had watched over her in the days and weeks following Tobias’s death. She’d constantly had someone at her side, but it was Ambrose who spent most of the time with her.

“You are my sister, and I love you,” Ambrose said, eyes forward. “You would have done the same for me were our positions reversed. ”

“I would.”

The miles passed as they left the busy city behind, and Violet enjoyed every minute as she and her brother chatted about a great many things.

“I hope Father lives for a long time, Pixie, as I’m not sure I can be the Lord Chippington he is.”

The words surprised her, as she’d always thought her brother a confident person.

“I’ve never told anyone that, so I’d be grateful if you kept it to yourself.”

“Of course, and you’ll be an outstanding Lord Chippington. You have all Father’s good traits and many others that will ensure you step into his shoes when the time comes… in many years,” Violet added quickly.

“Thank you. I hope you are correct.”

“I need to tell you something, but you cannot tell anyone else,” Violet said before she could stop herself.

“Will I want to tell someone else?” He raised a brow at her.

“Possibly, but I am not speaking until you promise.”

“I promise, as you have promised to keep my secret,” he vowed solemnly. “But if there is danger involved or something that will ruin your reputation or send Mother into a fit of vapors, I may break my promise.”

“I was out with Miss Dabbers shopping, and someone stole my reticule?—”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t get all pompous with me. You heard what I said. Now be quiet, or I will not continue.” His teeth made a snapping sound as he clenched them.

“Tobias’s list was in my reticule, Ambrose.”

“But you know what’s on it,” he said. “Leaving aside the other questions I have regarding you being out with only Miss Dabbers, you know what each thing on that list was, Pixie.”

“I do. But it was the last note we shared.”

“You have many memories of Tobias. You don’t need a piece of paper for that.”

He was right—she didn’t—but it was just another thing she’d lost in connection with Tobias.

“Now, back to the reticule. What else are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“You said that far too quickly.”

He’d always been the one to get her to talk. The one who knew when she was lying.

“Oh, very well, seeing as we have promised to keep each other’s secrets.”

“Unless your secret?—”

“Yes, yes,” Violet cut him off. “Anyway, a man came to my aid and was knocked to the ground.”

“Good Lord, really? That was nice of him. Is he all right?”

“He is, but his shoulder was dislocated.” Ambrose shuddered, remembering how painful his had been.

“And?”

“And what?”

“There is more to this story because it involves you, and nothing is ever easy where you are concerned.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Violet protested.

“Pixie, you may be the youngest, but you are the sneakiest. However”—he raised a hand to stop her from speaking—“you also know how to slip from the house when no one is looking and cover your tracks. I’m sure there is a great deal you get up to that no one knows about.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“So what else aren’t you telling me?”

“Well, I went in the hackney with this man to his house, and Miss Dabbers was there, too, because he was close to fainting.”

“Dear God, tell me that’s not true,” Ambrose muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s true.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Of course not,” she lied. “It was Mr. Thomas, Ambrose.”

“Charles Thomas?”

She nodded.

“So now I have to thank him and then threaten him that if he tells a soul, I will beat him senseless. Sisters,” he muttered, “you are a trying lot. Just one brother would have made my life a great deal easier.”

“No, it wouldn’t because then you would have to compete for Mother’s affection, and we both know you wouldn’t cope with that.”

They turned into a driveway and soon stopped in a courtyard before a large yellow stone house.

“And we are here,” he said with a loud sigh. “I am going to knock on that door.” Ambrose pointed to a set of elaborate stairs that went left and right. At the top was a door. “And hand over the papers. I will have eyes on you the entire time, so do not move.”

She poked out her tongue as he walked away from her because it was expected.