Page 21 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T he Althorp siblings all filed off the makeshift stage their mother erected every year, glad their embarrassment was at an end.

Violet, like her sisters and brother, loved music, but only in the privacy of their home, not in front of society and some of its more voracious gossips.

“Oh, Violet dear, if I may have a word?” her mother said when she reached her.

“That is the last time, Mother,” Ambrose said.

“I’m just going to refuse next time, and unless you carry me up there, I won’t be performing,” Cissa said. She then marched away with Ambrose and Octavia.

They all said that every year, and every year their mother got them back on the stage.

“They’ll come about,” Lady Chippington said.

“No, we won’t. We hate this performance,” Violet said.

Her words were batted away by a slender hand.

“Now, Lord Radcliffe is most keen to spend time with you, Violet?— ”

“Absolutely not,” Violet said. “I will not marry a man who could be my father—nay, grandfather.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It is done all the time. He will treat you well,” her mother said.

“You really dislike me so much that you want me to live with that man?” Violet did not often speak frankly with her mother and definitely not when surrounded by their peers.

“He has a fortune, a title, and you’ll run your own household.” Her mother ticked off the points on her gloved fingers.

“Rather indelicate of you to point this out when you have a house full of guests, don’t you think?”

“This will be an excellent match, and your father and I both endorse it,” her mother said with far more calm than Violet was feeling.

“What do I endorse?” Her father arrived. “Excellent performance, my sweet. You were all exceptional.” He bent to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you,” Violet said. “Mother told me you wish for me to look at Lord Radcliffe favorably as my future husband.”

“What?” He looked at his wife shocked. “Absolutely not. She is not marrying that old reprobate, and shame on you for even thinking it, Angeline. Now off you go, Violet, and see your friends.”

Knowing a battle was brewing between her parents, she hurried away. Her father didn’t challenge his wife often, but when he did, he usually won.

She’d seen Charles in the audience, and now she needed to find him. Mr. Thomas , Violet reminded herself. Yet since that kiss, she’d not been able to think of him in any way but Charles.

“Dear Miss Althorp, how are you this evening?”

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Bradbury,” she said as the woman stepped into her path .

“As you know, my son is away in the Army at the moment, but I have hopes he will return soon.”

Not another one, Violet thought.

“He’s a charming man with a fortune and is in need of a wife, my dear. I’ll speak plainly when I say he is quite the catch and I like you very much.”

Mrs. Bradbury was forthright and funny. She also knitted as terribly as Violet. However, Violet had no wish to marry her son.

“Lovely, I’m sure he’s a wonderful man. If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Bradbury.”

“Of course, but I wanted to discuss another matter with you, if you have a moment?”

“Of course.”

“I have a friend in Russia. We have been corresponding for many years. My son always translated her letters for me, and now that he is away, I cannot read them. I wondered if you have the time, would you be able to read them to me?”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure to do so,” Violet said. As long as your son is not in the house and this is not just another way to get us together.

Violet hurried away, seeking somewhere her mother and anyone else who wanted to marry her off was not.

“Running somewhere?”

“Not anywhere but away from my mother and others who want to wed me to their sons. Apparently I am a catch because of my dowry.”

“Not just for your money, Vi. You are beautiful and intelligent,” Tilly said loyally.

“None of that matters,” Violet said with a great deal more anger than was possibly required.

“Come, we shall walk to the supper room. You sound testy, and from memory, your mother served up quite the array of wonderful sweet treats last year. I want to reach the lemon cream before your brother, and something sugary will set you to rights.” Tilly put her arm through Violet’s. “Stay close, my friend. I will protect you from interfering mothers.”

“I love you and your mother for not hurling men into your path.”

“I am exceedingly pleased about that too.”

Violet swept her eyes left and right as they weaved through the guests, seeking Charles. She needed to tell him what was in that note. It intrigued her, and a small kernel of excitement had told her that perhaps it had something to do with the missing Pavlov fortune.

Could it be?

“How is the knitting going?” Tilly asked as they nodded and smiled at guests.

“I will have a scarf knitted for someone who doesn’t want a warm neck in no time.”

“Excellent. Why are you preoccupied, Violet?”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” Tilly wasn’t one to dance around something if she felt it needed to be said. “I know you, Vi, and I can tell when something is on your mind, and if it is something exciting, I insist you tell me.”

“Do you know the Nightingales, Tilly?”

“Yes. A lovely family who suffered terrible treatment through no fault of their own when their father took his life.”

“Promise not to tell anyone what I am about to say.”

“Of course. Unlike you, I can actually keep secrets.”

Violet looked around them and found no one was nearby listening.

“They are clairvoyants,” Violet whispered, “and Mr. Alex Nightingale told me that Tobias had communicated with him. He told me many things, but the main one is that Tobias wants me to move on with my life. ”

“Dear Lord.”

“Are you shocked with disbelief or belief?” Violet shot her friend a look.

“Belief, of course. Unlike some of the more closed-minded members of society, I am open to the possibility of communicating with the dead.”

Violet exhaled. It was wonderful to speak with Tilly about it. Ambrose hadn’t wanted to discuss the matter, as he clearly was not sure how to deal with it.

“How wonderful for you, and of course Tobias is right. You need to move on with your life.”

“I have been trying to do just that.” They entered the supper room, which she knew her mother would have tables laden with refreshment in because she’d suffered through many discussions on what dishes to have prepared. Now that the performance was over, she was hungry.

“Well done, keep trying. Now, you used up a great deal of energy performing and must be ravenous,” Tilly said, easing around a couple discussing the current London weather loudly. “You were brilliant, by the way, as were the rest of your siblings.”

“Ambrose always keeps me calm.”

“Yes, I suppose he is a good brother, if nothing else,” Tilly said.

She saw Charles—Mr. Thomas then. Although his back was to her, she recognized him.

“Come, I see the lemon cream. Make haste.” Tilly dragged her to the supper table.

They began to load their plates with several of the delicacies. She was reaching for the last éclair, which were her personal favorites, when a large hand beat her.

“I think not.”

Her eyes rose and found blue eyes with a wicked gleam staring down at her. Her heart absolutely did not beat a little harder. He looked so large and vibrant, and the others around him seemed less so. Hair slightly tousled, Charles wore a deep blue jacket and pale blue paisley waistcoat. His trousers were black. Elegant and handsome, she thought.

“If you were a gentleman, you’d let me have that,” Violet said as he took the éclair. Raising it to his mouth, he bit into it and then smiled.

“You, sir, are a scoundrel, and no gentleman.”

“You cannot have it both ways, Miss Althorp. On one hand, you wish for more rights for women, and on the other, I should give you the éclair even though my hand reached it first.” He looked smug now, laughing at her.

Violet battled the urge to smile back.

Elegant, handsome, and far too used to getting his own way. But she also knew that like her, he’d battled his demons. His hatred of being ill was one of them. He’d been worried about Violet that day in the Hen and Rooster, and that concern had made her feel warm inside.

“Oh, very well, I shall have a meringue instead,” Violet said, moving along the line. “And I’m sure the cook will have a plate of those for our tea tomorrow,” she said with a smug smile.

Looking around her, she saw the room was filling up fast; there would be little privacy to tell him what was in that note.

“We will talk soon.” He bent to grab something close to her and whispered the words in her ear. “Send word with a suitable time and place.”

“Come, there is a seat there next to Mr. Huffleford,” Tilly said from the opposite side of the table. She held two small plates filled with lemon cream.

“Absolutely not,” Violet said. “Did you not hear that poem? Terrible.” She shuddered .

“That’s very uncharitable of you. The man is clearly in need of cheering up,” Charles mocked.

“Exactly. Listen to Mr. Thomas, Vi,” Tilly said. “Let’s go.”

“But why do we have to do it?”

Tilly started walking, knowing she would follow. Charles’s deep laughter followed her.

“What was that about?” Tilly whispered.

“What was what about?”

“You and Mr. Thomas. I feel there is a familiarity between you I had not been aware of until now.”

“Don’t be silly. How would that have happened?” Even to her ears the words sounded forced. “Mr. Huffleford,” she then added loudly. “How lovely that you have two seats beside you.”

The man did look forlorn, but he managed a weak smile.

“I, for one, enjoyed your poetry immensely. I think it important to add, however, that we all have differing tastes,” Tilly said, sitting in the seat closest to the man.

“Did you really? I have a great deal more if you would like to hear some,” Mr. Huffleford said, looking happier. He had a plate laden with food. Violet noted three éclairs. Perhaps she could sneak one.

Looking around her to see if anyone was watching, she saw Charles a few feet away. His eyes caught hers and then turned to look at Mr. Huffleford’s plate. Moving his gaze back to her, he shook his head.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but after a quick glance to see who was looking, she poked out her tongue. He barked out a laugh and looked ridiculously handsome smiling at her like that, which in turn made something flutter in her chest, so Violet turned back to the conversation going on between Tilly and Mr. Huffleford.

The man was now reciting poetry, which was terrible.

“Huffleford! ”

“Oh dear,” Violet said as the Duchess of Yardly stomped up with her cane.

“Ah, just the person,” Tilly said, leaping to her feet. Violet quickly did the same. “Mr. Huffleford has more poetry that he wants to read to you, Duchess, if you will sit.”

The elderly woman harrumphed but sat in the recently vacated seat. “Bring me food and a cup of tea, and I will attempt to teach this fool the correct way to write exceptional poetry.” The duchess waved a hand at Violet, who in turn scurried away to do her bidding. Most people reacted to her that way.

A sweet-sounding giggle had her looking to her left, and she found Miss Cynthia Hope smiling at Charles. He was smiling back, showing all his teeth.

“You are scowling because Miss Hope is smiling at your Mr. Thomas,” Tilly whispered.

“No, I’m not. But I’ll tell you one thing, Tilly: I want to be just like the Duchess of Yardly when I grow up.”

“Oh. Well, there you will struggle, as I doubt you’ll ever grow up.”

“Amusing,” Violet said, grabbing a plate. “Get her tea, and I will bring the food.”

After they’d done their chores, Violet and Tilly wandered out of the supper room and away from Charles and Miss Hope.

“Vi,” Tilly said. “What’s going on?”

“I thought we were discussing terrible poetry?” she said to her friend.

“No. Now tell me what you are not telling me.”

Violet walked into the ballroom and skirted the wall with Tilly on her heels. She saw her mother coming in her direction, a determined look on her face.

“Can’t stop, Mother. I need to fix my hem, and Tilly is helping me. ”

She hurried away. Opening a door, she led Tilly out of it and along the hallway. Violet knew every room in this house intimately. Walking to the stairs, she ran up, tugging her friend with her. When she reached her destination, she opened the door to her father’s study, where he kept all his precious things and books, and stepped inside, closing it behind her and plunging them into darkness.

“I’m not terribly fond of the dark, Vi.”

“This is my father’s study, and he never leaves a lamp in here, as he has no wish for anyone to enter and go through his things.”

“Why not lock the door, then?”

“Because he lost the key. Now focus, Tilly, and I will save you from the dark monsters should any appear.” Tilly grabbed Vi’s hands, gripping them hard. “I need to talk to someone about all the things I have yet to talk to anyone about, and as you have assured me you are an excellent secret holder, I am going to do so now.”

“All right, but make haste.”

She then went on to explain about the book Charles found and the note in the cover; she finished with the fact that she’d translated the words.

“What was that?” Tilly asked in a thready whisper.

“A mouse? A cat? Who knows. Now focus. Tell me what you think of everything I have said.”

“Do you have a cat?”

“Tell me what you think of what I’ve said, Tilly.”

“You are clearly enamored with Mr. Thomas, and I cannot say I blame you in any way for that. The man is exceedingly handsome.”

“You got only that from what I said?”

“Also, oh my gosh, Vi, a treasure that needs finding. Do you realize that if we do, we may not have to marry anyone but who we choose?” Tilly said. “We could get a house on our own and do all kinds of wicked things like eat lemon cream and éclairs for every meal.”

“We would possibly need to widen the doorframes, but it sounds like bliss to me,” Violet said. “So now you are part of this?”

“But of course. To keep me quiet, you must now include me in everything.”

“I think Ch—Mr. Thomas may have a say in the fortune if it is real and ever found,” Violet cautioned.

“Charles? That sounds to me like he may mean more to you than just a man you looked after that day he dislocated his shoulder and are deciphering Russian notes for,” Tilly said.

“Absolutely not. My heart is Tobias’s,” Violet said, attempting to recall the exact facial features of her dear friend. She could never allow them to dim in her memory.

“I thought you told me Mr. Alexander Nightingale said Tobias wants you to live your life?”

“Tilly, focus now. I must get word to Mr. Thomas about what I read in that note. That is our next move. I will direct him to meet in the park where we have knitting group at 1:00 p.m. three days from now, and you will come with me.”

“Why three days from now?”

“Because Mother has plans I cannot get out of, and that gives us time to organize a visit with each other.”

“Very well. Now tell me what you read in the note. Since I am a party to this, you can tell me, and if it is cryptic, I will start deciphering it.”

“I need to tell Mr. Thomas first.”

“Oh all right, and as I will be there with you, I forgive you,” Tilly said.

“I will send him the details.”

“Oooh, it’s more excitement than I’ve had in weeks,” Tilly cried. “Vi, we need to leave this room because I think you are right and there is a mouse in here. Did you hear that rustling?”

“I did, and I will be informing Father his precious books are in danger of being nibbled by a mouse.”

They left and went back to the ballroom; her mother intercepted her the minute she stepped through the door.