Page 7 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER SEVEN

C harles looked to the door, squinting because his eyes felt out of focus. She was not there. Miss Althorp had probably left the house by now, as she should have, but he felt a pang that she was gone.

I found the bookshop girl.

“Get into the bed now with you,” Mr. Greedy said. “The recovery will take time, but it will heal.”

“I’d rather sit in a chair,” Charles said.

“And yet you will do as you are told,” Flora added. “Bed, now, Charles.”

“I haven’t heard that voice in a while,” he muttered.

“Well then, it’s past time,” she said.

Miss Althorp had been brave to aid him. Violet. Brave and bossy, he amended. He remembered so much of that discussion they’d shared that day two years ago. The list had been important to her because the man she’d loved and lost, Tobias, wrote it. Her childhood friend. It was almost unbelievable that he finally had a face to put to the woman he’d thought about on and off for two years.

“How do you feel, Charles?” Flora asked, drawing him back to the present. She was hovering, which she always did when he was injured or unwell. He wasn’t the only one who had suffered during the long months of his illness. Flora had spent hours sitting on his bed reading to him or just lying beside him while he slept.

“I am well now, Flora, no need to worry.”

Mr. Greedy had put his arm into a sling and dosed him with yet more liquid laced with something, but no laudanum. He knew the taste of that vile stuff, and would never again suffer the feverish dreams and visions he’d endured while under its influence. His cheek had also been cleaned with something that felt like it was burning his skin.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked.

“Thank you, yes.” Charles squinted to focus on his sister. There suddenly seemed to be two of her in the room.

“Excellent, that will help restore your spirits also,” Mr. Greedy said. “Now, I’ve another call to make, as young Bethany Douglas is visiting with her grandparents and has taken a fall. She’s a nasty cut on her knee that I need to re-dress today. I’ll call later to check on you, Mr. Thomas.”

The man looked like he was eighty and unsteady on his feet, yet Charles knew that where Mr. Greedy was concerned, appearances were deceptive. He was an excellent healer and was always on the move, doing something.

“Thank you again, Mr. Greedy,” Bram said.

The man closed his medical bag and exited the room with a wave of his hand, leaving Charles alone with Bram and Mungo. Ivy had bustled out to get more pillows behind Flora.

“How is my favorite brother-in-law feeling?” Ram entered.

“I’m your only brother-in-law, and better now it’s set,” Charles said. He could concede to this much. That did not make him weak .

Charles knew his attitude to sickness or injury was not rational; however, he could do nothing to change it.

“Has Miss Althorp gone?” he asked, hoping Ram said no.

“She has, and her maid, who took Miss Bud’s ginger biscuits recipe, with her.”

“She seems a nice lady, Charles, to have taken care of you like she did. Not many would do such a thing,” Bram said.

“She is nice,” Charles said slowly. Why did his tongue feel odd?

“When Leo did what you just have, he cried and screamed. Not one sound did you make, your sister told me. How brave you are.” Ram’s eyes told Charles he knew about his past.

“I tolerate pain well,” Charles muttered.

“Because of your childhood?” Ram said, going directly to the point, as was his way.

He was married to Flora, and they shared things as people in love did, so of course he knew. He’d never told her to keep it a secret, but it still always made him feel exposed when someone addressed his childhood illness.

“I will be fine,” he said.

“Pain is not a weakness,” Mungo snapped. “We’re sometimes forced to endure it, but we use others to help us through.”

Both Charles and Ram looked at Mungo. He remembered then what he’d seen today—Mungo and that woman hugging. Should I say something? No, now was not the time, if ever it would be. The man was fiercely private, and Charles respected that. Besides, he wasn’t exactly the easiest person to talk to.

“What?” Mungo snarled at them.

“I do not like to make a habit of agreeing with the angry Scotsman of all people, but in this, he is right, Charles,” Ram said. “You are in pain, and it is all right to share that with us. Let us help you.”

“I’m always right,” Mungo thundered.

“We are here for you, Charles, should you need us,” Bram said with the practiced ease of someone who had intervened in more than one debate in this household.

“I am well, thank you, and deal with pain my way.”

“But you will let us know if it is bad and not suffer alone in silence,” Ram said.

Charles nodded reluctantly. His head was feeling odd now, like he wasn’t quite himself, and yet he couldn’t be anyone else.

“Back to what happened today. What do you remember?” Bram asked.

“I heard Miss Althorp’s voice inside my head.”

“How intriguing,” Ram said. “Doesn’t that usually only happen when it’s someone close to you or connected with pain or high emotion?”

“I know her—well, kind of,” he added. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. “And she was emotional.”

“How do you know her?” Bram asked.

“It’s a secret.” Charles managed to hold back the need to tell them about the bookshop.

“I do love a secret,” Ram said.

Charles shook his head slowly, so he didn’t jar his shoulder.

“Very well, continue with your story,” he said.

“I heard her say something…” Charles said, his words falling away when he realized he couldn’t tell them what and who she’d been talking about, as it was the man she’d loved and lost.

“What?” Mungo demanded.

“Nothing. Anyway, I heard the words grab and run next. Then some boys passed me and stole Miss Althorp’s reticule. I gave chase and ended up falling.”

“Ellington tripped you,” Bram said.

That’s right, he remembered Miss Althorp mentioning that.

“What?” Ram snapped. “You are not serious?”

Charles attempted to remain focused, but he couldn’t find a thought that made any sense.

“That Ellington needs another lesson in keeping his distance from this family,” Mungo snarled. “And I’m just the man to teach him.”

“Thank you, Mungo, very kind,” Charles said slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “Do you always frown?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I suppose it will not put strain on your facial muscles if you only wear one expression,” Charles said, then giggled.

“Remind me to find out what Mr. Greedy gave him. It could prove handy when I need Flora to tell me the truth,” Ram said.

“Anyway,” Charles said loudly. “After my chat with Cambridge Sinclair?—”

“He was there too?” Bram asked.

“No. I took tea with him. We discussed my helping to run his new newspaper, the Tuba , and my writing,” Charles said and then clamped his lips shut. “Not talking about that.”

“ Tuba , really? What is that man’s fixation with musical instruments?” Ram asked.

“Good. You will be excellent in that position. You have an analytical brain and intelligence,” Bram said.

“Thank you, Bram. Sometimes I wish you were my father.”

Bram smiled at him. “I am always here in any capacity you need me, Charles, as you are now one of us. ”

He felt the sting of tears at that and knew whatever Mr. Greedy had given him had turned him into Flora, who he could make weep with ease.

“Thank you.”

“Carry on with what happened next,” Bram said.

“I want to know about the writing and what he and Cam discussed,” Ram said.

“First the story,” Mungo added.

“The boys stole Miss Althorp’s—Violet’s—reticule. I chased and then fell, or was tripped by the dastardly Ellington, and then she helped me to a hackney.”

“That was nice of her,” Ram said.

“She’s very nice, and I had to rethink my earlier opinion of her.”

“You met her earlier?” Bram asked.

“She ran into me on the street, and blamed me when it was her— both our faults,” Charles amended. “Then she sat in the hackney holding my shoulder so it didn’t hurt. She smells of flowers on a hot summer’s day when the sun brings out their scent.”

Ram made a choking sound, and Charles wasn’t sure why, as he did not appear to be choking.

“Tea is ready.”

“Flora,” Ram said when his sister arrived. “Apparently Miss Althorp is very nice, and your brother talked to Cambridge Sinclair about his writing and running his new newspaper, the Tuba .”

“Writing?” Flora asked, and Charles waved her words away with a hand.

His sister lowered the tray to his nightstand. “What did Mr. Greedy give him?” she then asked. “Because my brother is usually tight-lipped about everything.”

“I have no idea, but I want some,” Ram said. “It could come in very handy. ”

“We are not questioning him about anything personal while under the influence of whatever Mr. Greedy gave him,” Bram said.

“Oh, very well,” Ram agreed reluctantly, and Charles was excessively pleased Bram had said those words, as he felt like he could tell his life story should anyone ask him for it.

“Can you believe Miss Althorp was foolish enough to take off in pursuit of the boy because her list was in the reticule?”

“List?” Ram asked

“Very brave,” Flora said.

“They could have hurt her.” Charles took the tea his sister handed him. “She’s too small to be hurt.”

“Which makes no sense to anyone but you, but there you have it,” Ram said. “What list?”

Charles ignored his questions. “I told her to stay. Of course, she didn’t, like Flora wouldn’t.”

“She’s brave and single-minded—I like her a great deal already,” Flora said.

“Xactly… exactly,” Charles said. “I was closing in on the boys when I fell.”

“Tripped,” Bram reminded him. “Ellington is a pernicious toad for tripping you.”

“Word of the day is pernicious,” Mungo added. “Theo came up with it. If he were here, you would be expected to recite a limerick.”

“That’s a relief, then, as I have none stored in my memory,” Ram said.

“Ellington tripped my brother?” Flora said in that voice that boded trouble for anyone in her way.

“It had to be due to his association with this family,” Ram said.

“Yes,” Mungo agreed and followed with a few curses under his breath. He then took the tea Flora handed him. “We’ll be having a word with him. ”

“Indeed, we will,” Bram agreed.

Charles spilled most of the tea down his chest, but as thankfully, Flora had prepared it tepid how he liked it, it did not burn.

“I think he needs to rest now,” Flora said some time later, which could have been five minutes but also an hour. “You need to sleep, Charles. It is the best thing for healing,” she said, coming to the bed after shooing everyone out and drawing the curtains.

“You will stay close,” he whispered as his eyes closed, “in case I need you?”

“You know I will, but remember, Brother, it is not like your childhood, and you will heal quickly. This is not an illness that will last many months.” She took his hand, and he let his eyes close, safe in the knowledge she was there to fight his demons if and when they arrived and that he’d found the bookshop woman. Violet Althorp.