Page 2 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER TWO

T wo years later

London was unseasonably warm today, and Charles felt sweat beading his brow as he walked. He was a fit man and ensured he stayed that way. His childhood had taught him that was the only way to stay healthy. No illness would ever lay him low again.

Looking at the tall building as he reached his destination, he felt a surge of excitement.

“Charles?”

“Hello, Cambridge,” he said, shaking the hand of the man who was stepping out the door he’d been about to enter.

They were friends through his cousins, and Charles had always liked him. Intelligent, funny, and, like him, could annoy his siblings with ease.

“What has you entering the hallowed walls of the Trumpeter ?”

“I have called to discuss something with you if you have the time, Cam.”

Cambridge Sinclair owned two newspapers, the Trumpeter and the Bugler . It was the building of the first he stood before.

“Actually, I’m just heading next door to eat, as it’s been at least an hour. Join me. I have something I wanted to discuss with you also,” Cam said.

“An hour?”

“I am still growing, so I need constant nourishment.”

Like all Sinclairs except for one of Cam’s sisters, whose eyes were gray, Cam had dark hair and green eyes. The seven Sinclair siblings were like peas in a pod.

“Well then, lead on,” Charles said.

They were soon seated, and Cam ordered a huge amount of food. Charles had an appetite that mirrored his, although he was not as enthusiastic about eating.

They chatted for a while about their families before their order arrived. When it did, Cam pounced on an iced fruit bun and devoured it in a few bites.

“Now, Charles, as my hunger has eased, I’ll tell you I was talking to your brother-in-law last week about something I am planning. I told him I needed a man of good intellect, and they must be trustworthy. He said you’re extremely intelligent, and while you are definitely the strong, silent type, like my brothers, Ram says you are trustworthy and in need of a direction.”

That surprised Charles enough to cough, which didn’t go well, as he had just taken a bite of a truly superb fruitcake. Coughing again, he managed to swallow it down and not spray it all over Cam.

“I assure you I do not need direction,” Charles rasped when he could.

“Family.” Cam made a tsking sound. “Always thinking they know what’s good for us.”

Charles raised his cup to that.

“I am acquiring a third newspaper, Charles, and I would like someone to run it for me, as I already have two. You,” he added.

“Cam, you have more family than a small country,” Charles felt bound to say, even as interest stirred inside him.

“It’s never healthy to work too closely with family. Besides, Emily said she will be displeased if I do not get help, as I already work too hard. It is never healthy to displease your wife, Charles, remember that.”

He nodded when nothing else came to mind.

“The others are investing in steam power and railways and various other things. James and his siblings are purchasing half the real estate in London.”

“And the empire grows,” Charles said, knowing that these families were already powerful and wealthy, and that would only increase. “But what of your children?”

“One day, perhaps, but they are being educated so they can argue with me even more and likely now be correct,” Cam said. “Not that I will ever tell them that, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Leo told me you have a sound business head on your shoulders and are excellent with numbers. Bramstone said you are a sensible sort who can be mean when required. He added that these are the perfect traits for a gentleman to have, and on their recommendations, I would like to offer you the position as my business partner in the Tuba .”

“You are not seriously calling your paper that?” Charles said with his mind reeling.

“Absolutely, and it fits in perfectly with Trumpeter and Bugler . So, what do you say about my offer?”

“On the recommendations of my family alone, you’ve decided I’d suit?” Charles asked.

“Yes. I respect those men, and they would not lie to me,” Cam said, “and I need someone to run the Tuba who has neither Sinclair nor Raven blood. Would you be interested?” Cam took a large bite of pie and chewed.

Charles usually liked to work through things, but the bookshop girl, as he’d called her since that day, slid into his head. She’d regretted not marrying the man she loved and lost him. If Cam found someone else before Charles said yes, would he regret it?

“I would be interested,” he said. “But of course I know nothing of the newspaper industry.”

“If you’ve a brain, you’ll pick that up. After all, if I can, anyone can,” Cam added.

Charles knew this man was awake on all fronts, even if he liked people to believe different.

“If you are interested, I will set up a meeting, and we can discuss what the position would entail. There will also be an opportunity to become a shareholder should you wish it. But first, we will tour the papers soon, and you can speak with those involved in the running of it.”

“I would like that very much.” He held out his hand, and Cam shook it again. Charles felt the smear of grease on his palm but did not comment. “I was actually coming to see you, Cam, as I know your long-running series Captain Caruthers’s Capers has recently finished.”

“Yes, blast it, the author wishes to retire. Extremely inconvenient, as the Trumpeter readers love it.”

“Well, I may have a solution,” he said quickly before he could stop himself. “I have been writing a story for many years—since I was a child, actually. I wondered if it could take the place of Captain Caruthers’s Capers .” Charles took the papers out of his inside pocket.

“You are a writer? That makes my decision to speak with you even better,” Cam said, holding out his hand. Charles felt like he was giving away his firstborn child, if he had one, when he placed those papers in Cambridge Sinclair’s hand .

He opened them right there in front of Charles and began to read.

He felt suddenly exposed. Those stories had been crafted through some harrowing times in his life, and Cam was the first person to read them.

He was still not entirely sure why he’d woken up today and decided to let someone read his work, but when Matilda had stomped into the parlor bemoaning the fact that Captain Caruthers’s Capers were no more, he’d seen it as a sign. As a clairvoyant, that was not something he felt he could ignore.

Charles watched Cam as he ate another slice of cake and drank two cups of tea. He was refraining from humming, which Charles often did when nervous. Finally, Cam lowered the paper that would surely now be coated in crumbs, as he’d continued to eat the entire time while reading.

“Well, well, well, Charles,” Cam said with a wide smile. “You are a man of many talents it seems. And now we have found our next long-running installment. Thank you, these are brilliant, and if the rest are up to this standard, Captain Caruthers fans will be more than happy with this as a replacement.”

“Really?” He couldn’t stop the smile.

“Really, and if you are a business partner, I will not have to pay you,” Cam said with a sly smile.

“Oh, I shall expect payment,” Charles said. “I have reworked the earlier pages,” he added.

“And what does your family think of this?” Cam looked at the papers.

Charles kept his gaze steady. He’d learned long ago how to hide what he was really thinking. “I have yet to tell them.”

Cam raised his hands. “It’s not for me to judge why. However, I will say that this”—he jabbed a finger at the papers—“is bloody brilliant. So tell them.”

Charles nodded. He would, and then he would have to explain why he hadn’t told them before now. Flora would be furious. Of course, she’d seen him writing over the years and asked what he’d been working on. He’d said nothing important, and that had been that.

“Now I’m wondering if you have plans to marry soon?” Cambridge asked.

“Ah… no,” Charles said, hoping Cambridge Sinclair did not have a relative he felt would make him a perfect wife.

“Damn. I was hoping for another Crabbett Close wedding. Those locals know how to host a party, and I do enjoy Mr. Greedy’s whisky,” Cam said.

“I have had many a headache from it,” Charles added.

“I will set up a meeting to work through the details and discuss your role. It will take time to finalize everything, but I want you on board as soon as the purchase of the Tuba is through, Charles.” Cambridge got to his feet. “I foresee a long and profitable future between us. But now I must get back and start on my next London Looter piece.”

“The Russian books going missing?” Charles asked. Cam nodded. “May I suggest the Russian Robber, then?”

Cam’s smile split his face. “Perfect. There. You see? We shall do famously well in business if you continue on like that.”

Charles watched Cam leave. Shaking his head, he headed in the opposite direction.

“Oh, Mr. Thomas!”

To his left were three women, the Robbins sisters. All unmarried, and all looking for husbands.

“Lovely to see you,” he called, raising a hand. “Can’t stop, important business to attend to.” He didn’t look back as he hurried away.

Charles had been on the fringes of society for years. It had only been since he moved to London to be closer to his youngest sister, Flora, that he spent more time at social gatherings. He’d learned quickly that some of the women were terrifying.

A familiar large figure strode across the road in front of him. Mungo, Charles thought. Friend to Bramstone Nightingale, whom Charles was staying with, and also driver, butler, and pretty much everything else the household needed. He’d heard the man was actually related to nobility in Scotland, but he’d never returned there.

Mungo walked toward a young woman who was standing outside a shop. She smiled as he reached her. Then the oddest thing happened: the Scotsman smiled back. Charles only had a side view, but there was no doubting his lips had curved up.

Good Lord. He’d never seen the man really smile.

Mungo then leaned in and hugged the woman. He blinked. What was happening? He never willingly touched anyone. The Scotsman then turned, and Charles fled.