Page 8 of The Honorable Rogue (The Notorious Nightingales #5)

CHAPTER EIGHT

“ A re you all right, Miss Dabbers?” Violet asked as the woman muttered something when the hackney stopped outside her house.

How is Mr. Thomas? She hoped he was resting comfortably.

“Aye, it’s glad I’ll be to return home. All that wandering about the place, I’m quite sure I don’t understand the need for it, and then going to Mr. Thomas’s house was not proper, even as I understand why you did it. Mind the ginger biscuits and whisky were tasty. But I’ve a need to rest my bones, I do.”

“I would rather not tell my family about today unless it’s necessary to do so.”

“Well, they won’t hear it from me,” Miss Dabbers said. “Your mother will not be best pleased if she hears you traveled alone with that man and walked into his house, even if there were others about.”

Violet knew that for the truth. The hackney stopped, but she did not move.

“Miss Dabbers, may I borrow your pretty scarf? I need to hide this bloodstain in case my mother sees it. ”

The woman huffed out a breath, muttered, and unwound the hideous mustard cloth from around her neck and handed it to her.

“You be careful with that.”

“I’ll guard it with my life,” Violet said solemnly as she draped it so the bloodstain was hidden. Opening the door, both women got out, and Violet paid the driver. They then walked up to the Chippington town house front door.

Windows gleamed, woodwork was glossy, and the five steps up to the front door were swept. There was not a sign of a cobweb. Her mother had exacting standards when it came to appearances.

“Thank you, Fletcher,” Violet said to the butler as he opened the door before they reached it.

Tall, elegant, and handsome, with a head of beautiful auburn hair, the Chippington butler was the envy of many, much to her mother’s delight.

“Good day to you. Miss Violet, Miss Dabbers,” he said in a deep, melodious voice.

“Well now, I’ve things to attend to,” Miss Dabbers said. She then stomped off toward the kitchen to no doubt spend a good hour gossiping with the housekeeper and any other staff in there.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” she called. There was no reply, just the sound of a door shutting.

“I hope your day was pleasant, Miss Violet?” Fletcher said.

“Lovely,” she lied, taking off her bonnet. In fact, it was a mix of many things, none that she could say were pleasant.

“Is my mother about?”

“I believe she is writing letters in her room, Miss Violet.”

“Thank you, Fletcher.” Violet could hopefully reach her rooms undetected.

Looking around the pristine interior of her parents’ house, she thought about the Nightingales’ home. The latter had been far more welcoming. The Chippington town house was always immaculate, and there would never be a shoe lying about.

Climbing the stairs, she thought an hour in her room reading sounded like bliss after her adventures.

Mr. Thomas did not hit his head, so he will be alive in the morning. There was no way for her to check on him, so she had to hope to see him at a social event in the near future.

She felt a stab of pain about her missing list and that yet another part of Tobias was gone. It worried her his memory was fading, and that would never do.

There was no sound of voices in the house, which was not unexpected, as her brother lived elsewhere, and her two sisters would be busy doing something. But as the musical was not far away, there was still much to do according to her mother, who made her children perform each year, which they all hated.

Because Violet was betrothed when she was younger, she had largely been allowed to do as she pleased. Tobias’s family lands bordered her father’s, and both families had decided a match would suit all concerned. Luckily, she and Tobias had agreed.

His death had plunged her into mourning, and she’d felt cast adrift because she’d always known the direction her life would take, and now suddenly it wouldn’t. Then her mother had decided it was time for her to move on. Violet had argued that she had no wish to, but Lady Chippington was persistent.

Last year she’d entered society as the oldest debutante and loathed every minute of it. This year was not a great deal better, other than she knew what to expect. Violet hoped that her mother would simply give up on her one day when no marriage proposals were forthcoming .

As if just thinking about her had conjured her up, Lady Chippington stalked toward her down the hallway.

“Where have you been, Violet? There is still so much to do before the musical. I have the food to oversee and the ballroom to prepare. Really, it’s too much that my children cannot be here when I need them most.”

“Hello, Mother. I thought you told me you had everything under control?”

“Yes, yes, but there is still so much to do. It must be a success, which it always is, but?—”

“It will be, I’m sure. Perhaps if you’re worried I will ruin things, I could simply watch?”

“You are playing again this year,” Violet’s mother snapped. “There will be no further discussion on the matter, as I told your siblings. You need a husband, and we are already on the back foot with your age. It is imperative you are seen at your best.”

Violet swallowed her sigh.

“Why are you wearing that hideous scarf?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed.

“I like it.”

“Take it off at once. What if someone saw you in it?”

Choose your battles, Violet . “Yes, Mother.”

Lady Angeline Chippington looked as every lady should: elegant, beautiful, without a hair out of place. Considering her four children apparently challenged her daily, this was quite something.

“Now answer my question, Violet. Where have you been?”

“Out with Miss Dabbers.”

“You should not go gadding about with just your maid. It is not done. You could have asked one of your siblings to go with you.”

Violet was most like their mother in that she was slender, but where her mother was tall, Violet was sadly lacking in height, which annoyed her excessively and gave her siblings no end of fodder to tease her with.

“Everyone was busy, and there was no need. Miss Dabbers kept me company.”

“And she was able to keep up with you, was she?” Her mother did not look convinced.

Miss Dabbers had been with the Althorp family for many years. She’d originally started as maid to Violet’s mother, then moved down through her sisters as theirs, until she landed with Violet, who she’d been with for many years. Life in the country had been a great deal easier for Miss Dabbers. In London, she had to accompany Violet everywhere.

“Of course. I walked slowly to accommodate her.”

Her mother stared at her hard, as if attempting to see those words for the lie they clearly were. Violet was an excellent liar. She’d learned early that a small lie that hurt no one made her life easier.

“It’s a wonder she managed the walk, considering her leg has been troubling her,” her mother continued. “But I think that rub is helping.”

“She’s feeling a great deal better,” Violet said.

In fact, Miss Dabbers complained constantly until Violet settled her into a tea shop and said she’d be back soon. Then she’d run into Mr. Thomas outside.

“How old do you think she is, Mother?” Violet was genuinely curious, but also, the best way to get their mother off topic was to distract.

“I have no idea. Now, Violet, tell me you did not take a hackney?”

“I did not take a hackney.”

Her mother made a sound in her throat that signaled her displeasure. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”

Violet nodded .

“You are a vexatious child. I’m quite sure I never had so much trouble with your sisters?—”

“Oh, now that’s unfair, and I must protest,” Violet said. “I was betrothed and therefore no trouble at all, but now that I am suddenly no longer betrothed, I am?”

Her mother batted the words away like they were insects. She didn’t like to discuss Tobias’s passing, which suited Violet just fine, as she didn’t enjoy talking about it either.

“Violet, you must focus on finding a husband, not wandering about London in a willy-nilly manner, where anyone could see you. You have competition from many ladies younger than you who are having their first seasons. Besides, anything could have happened to you walking about on your own,” she added, like Violet had been strolling in the rookeries.

“I was on Bond Street, Mother.” She didn’t roll her eyes, as that was a crime worse than cursing to Lady Chippington.

“Yes, well, you need to focus on making an eligible match.”

“What if I don’t want to marry anyone else?” The words came out before Violet could stop them.

Her mother clasped her chest, gasping loudly. She then staggered back to make sure Violet understood she was truly shocked. “Not marry!”

“Forget I said anything,” Violet muttered.

“How can I when the words have been spoken? It is as if you are deliberately trying to hurt me by saying such things.”

“I lost my fiancé,” Violet gritted out. “The love of my life.”