The Rebellious Rake (The Notorious Nightingales #4)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

F lora woke after a fitful night of snatched sleep with an aching head and the realization that her life would never again be the same.

Nightmares had plagued her, filled with small, cramped spaces she could not escape from. He’d been with her, Ramsey Hellion, holding her, and the terror had abated briefly, only to start again. Then there was her father, smiling down at her from his pulpit. The man she’d adored who was a liar.

Tugging open her curtains, Flora studied the gray day that greeted her and thought it matched her mood perfectly.

Damp clung to the leaves of trees, and the ground would sink under the leather soles of her boots were she to walk on it. Streets would be lined with muddy water, and people would be scurrying about, muttering, “It’s a beastly day for it.”

Tracing a drop of water as it rolled down the window, Flora thought it was going to take time to feel herself again. She’d always been excellent at hiding her thoughts; no one but Charlie would see her turmoil, as his matched .

Out there in the world was another person carrying her blood that she’d never met. A brother. Do I want to meet him? Right then the answer was no, because she was still coming to terms with what she’d learned. But perhaps she would want to meet him one day. It was no more his fault than it was the Thomas siblings, which he was one of, that he was born.

But she would not want to meet his mother, who knew the man she had an affair with was married. On that thought came another: how would they manage to keep this from their mother?

But then hadn’t their father, who supposedly loved her but hadn’t really, managed to do that for years?

After bathing and dressing, with her head no clearer, Flora made her way downstairs to take her morning meal with the rest of the family. It was a part of the day she loved living with the Nightingales. Usually there was lively conversation and plans to make for the coming day. Chatter and laughter, something that had been lacking in Flora’s life for a while now. Today she wasn’t sure much would raise her spirits.

She passed paintings the children had done and someone had hung, lining the hallway. Two mismatched shoes sat against a paneled wall, and beside them, a pink bonnet.

A thud behind the door of the room she knew Matilda, the youngest Nightingale, slept in was followed by giggling, which told Flora she was not alone in there. But then no one ever really was in this house. Right then, in her current mood, she liked that.

Taking the stairs down, Flora found Mungo at the bottom.

“Good morning, Mungo.”

“Good day to you.” He gave her what constituted as a smile .

“What has happened to the dog we brought back with us?” Flora asked, suddenly remembering the animal.

“He went home with Mr. Hellion.”

She hadn’t expected that. “Is he capable of tending him?”

“It will do him good to care for someone other than himself for once.”

“I’m sure it will,” Flora said when nothing else came to mind.

“You’ve not slept well.” Mungo was now staring at her through those all-seeing eyes. “I’ll get Mr. Greedy to fix you something for tonight’s slumber.”

“I slept well enough.”

“The thing about lying, lassie, is you always get caught out.”

Flora exhaled slowly. “You are right. It was not a restful slumber. My mind would not quiet, Mungo. So, thank you, I will be grateful for Mr. Greedy’s help to get some sleep tonight.”

“Nothing bad troubling you, I hope?”

“Well, first there was the adventure with Mr. Hellion?—”

“Which would be enough to turn anyone’s belly,” he added.

“Then my brother told me some things, but nothing life-threatening,” she assured him. “I’ll not burden you with the details.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I’d not wanted to hear. But you go on now and eat your morning meal, which will help your spirits.”

And that, Flora thought, was the longest conversation she’d ever had with Mungo. She went into the dining parlor and found her brother and Bramstone there.

“Good morning, Bramstone. Good morning, Charles.”

“She didn’t sleep well,” Mungo said as they returned the greeting. He then held out a chair and waved her down into it. “I’ll bring your tea, Miss Flora.”

“Thank you, Mungo.”

“He actually doesn’t need to do that, you know? His aunt is married to a wealthy viscount,” Bramstone said. “And Mungo has money of his own. He just chooses to live with us and pretend like I employ him when, in fact, he does it because he loves being part of our family.”

“Really?” Flora looked to the doorway that Mungo had just walked through.

“Sit, Flora. The rest of my family have been coming in waves and leaving again to do chores or go walking in the frigid morning air while I continue to eat my meal and get to know your brother.”

Flora decided to butter some toast. She thought her stomach would not deal with anything heavier today.

This was another wonderful room in the Nightingale home. Two large windows showed her the gardens and the gray day. A fire warmed them from a hearth, and the scents of food filled the air. A ball of greenery now hung in the window tied with a red ribbon. She noted other little festive touches too, like the three paper angels standing on a shelf.

“Are you well, Flora?”

“Pardon?” She looked over her shoulder at Bramstone.

“Are you well?” He had a way of looking at a person when he was serious that felt like he could see what they were thinking.

“I am, thank you.” Flora shot Charlie a look, but he was staring at the food.

“Do you know a Maxwell Huntington?” she asked, changing the subject. This earned her a glare from Charlie.

“Of course. He is part of the Sinclair and Raven clan. Highly unusual group of people but delightful. Society would like nothing better than to turn their collective backs on them for so many reasons, but they can’t, as they have a duke, a marquis, and several other powerful noblemen and business merchants in their midst,” Bram said.

She shot Charlie a pointed look.

“I am to attend a meeting with him today regarding an investment,” Charlie said.

“ We are attending,” Flora said.

“Actually, they would care little about whom was there, as the women in that family are involved in everything they do,” Bram said before Charlie could speak. “Alex will attend also on our behalf, as we are involved in Huntington’s business venture.”

“Excellent,” Flora said.

“I’m surprised my cousins are involved in this,” Charles said.

“Because they were once stuffy and self-important?” Bram asked.

“Forgive me,” Charles said quickly. “I did not mean?—”

“No. You’re entirely right about who they were,” Bram said. “But the change in their circumstances changed them—and for the better, I believe.”

“They are wonderful,” Flora said, shooting her brother another hard look.

“They just needed a little guidance and time to heal. I could not be prouder of all my nieces and nephews,” Bram said, and Flora could hear the pride in every word. “They are no longer the spoiled Nightingales but now the Notorious Nightingales.”

Flora shrugged at Charlie’s questioning look. She knew of course about the clairvoyant abilities the Nightingales had, as they’d discussed that when she arrived for the wedding.

“Do we want to know why you are called that?” Charles asked.

“It’s best you don’t, and now I must away, as Theo will return shortly, and he and I are fencing this morning. I will be interested to hear what you both and Alex have to say after the meeting.” Bramstone rose from his chair. “Before I go, I want you to know that I am here for you both should you need me in any capacity, as I am for my nieces and nephews.”

“Thank you,” Flora said. “That is very kind.”

He smiled, then kissed the top of her head and left the room.

“He is a good man,” Charles said.

“Very much so.”

“Notorious Nightingales sounds ominous,” Charlie said. “How do you think they got that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Are you all right, Flora?”

“I am trying to be, Charlie, and for now, that’s enough.”

“It will take time. Put it aside, and we shall work out what is to be done and how soon we must face what else Father has left us to deal with.”

Flora doubted she could put the knowledge of her father’s affair and another brother aside, but she would try. For now, they had more reasons than ever to make money, and hopefully Mr. Huntington would be able to help them with that.

“Hello!”

“Good morning, Lottie,” Flora said to the little girl running into the room. Daughter of Bram and Ivy, the woman behind her, she was a delight, and one of the many reasons Flora loved this household so much.

“Good morning. You must be Charles?” Ivy said. A great deal shorter than her husband with thick brown hair and pewter-colored eyes, she and her Bramstone were what Flora had hoped for with the horrible Lord Lockwood—love and friendship. How wrong she’d been.

Flora hated that he’d made a fool of her. Made her doubt herself and ever finding a husband that would want to live his life with her and not a lot of other women traipsing through his bed.

“Hello, Lottie.” Her brother was bent at the waist, talking to the little girl.

“I heard all about your adventure last night. Are you well, Flora? It must have been terrifying,” Ivy said.

“Extremely. However, it was not me those men wanted but Mr. Hellion.”

Ivy looked worried. “Ram is a special man. I hope they get to the bottom of who did this. I’m sure Gray will be a man possessed until they do. He loves his cousin like a brother.”

“Do neither of them have brothers, then?” Flora asked.

She’d avoided asking personal questions, as she’d not been in London long and thought to gradually get to know everyone, but after last night, she was curious about Ramsey… and of course Grayson Fletcher.

“Ram has no siblings, but Gray has brothers,” Ivy said but frustratingly added nothing more. Flora did not ask anything further, or it would seem rude.

“Well then, we had best be off,” Charles said, rising from his chat with Lottie.

“It’s chilly out today. Wrap up warm,” Ivy said.

They were pulling on their outer clothing when more voices reached them. Coming down the stairs were three more Nightingales. Frederica, Matilda, and Anna, all variations of their elder siblings except Anna, who was blond. The latter had come to live with the family a few years ago. As yet, Flora did not have all the details preceding that event, either, other than she’d once lived in an orphanage, and the Nightingale family had adopted her.

“Are you leaving already?” Fred asked with a book clasped under one arm. She was always reading .

“Yes, but we shall catch up with you later. This is my brother, Charles.”

Introductions were made, and the girls curtsied politely.

“Is he going to be here for Christmas? If so, he will need to be put in the draw,” Matilda said.

“If you will have me, then yes, I would enjoy that very much,” Charles surprised her by saying.

It was only when they were outside that she commented on what he’d said.

“You loathe London and yet have promised to be here for Christmas.”

They were now wandering along the path. Flora wondered how long it would be before they were stopped by a neighbor.

“Madeline has extended an invitation to stay with her, as have Mother and Aunt. I find neither excites me as much as spending Christmas with you and the Nightingale clan.” Charles’s smile was rueful. “And yes, I did just say that.”

“Well then, perhaps we could look for some cheap lodgings, as I’m quite sure the Nightingales have enough people living under their roof.”

“I think we should. Now what is this draw about?”

“Names are drawn and gifts brought for whomever you have been given for Christmas.”

“Sounds like fun,” Charles said.

Pleased that her brother was thinking about moving to London, Flora slipped her arm through his and walked.

“I can’t believe we have another brother.”

“It takes time to get used to,” Charles said, “if we ever will. Suddenly every belief we had about Father has shifted.”

“Yes.”

“What is that wound around the trunk of that tree?” Charles pointed to the small park in the middle of the close. Around the trunks of three trees was colorful knitting .

“Knitting, I think.”

“Why are they knitting blankets for trees?”

“It’s part of the Christmas celebrations,” a voice said. These words came from a man seated on a stool just inside his front gate. Flora recognized him as Mr. Greedy. “We put them there to brighten up the place for the festivities.”

“Well then,” Charles said because clearly he didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s a lovely day for a walk,” Mr. Greedy added.

Both Thomases looked skyward at the bleak, gray weather. It would be one of those days that did come too much. There would definitely be no sun.

“Mr. Greedy, this is my brother, Charles.”

The man rose slowly and extended his hand. He was wrapped up warm with multiple layers and a thick brown-and-gray jumper.

“Mr. Greedy is a healer,” Flora added.

“And I hear you and Mr. Hellion had a time of things last night. I’ve sent him a sleeping tonic, and I’ll be doing the same for you when I’ve had a chance to make it, Miss Flora.”

“I’d be grateful, thank you.”

“For all the weather is not conducive for it, you have a fine garden,” Charles said.

“It’s a labor of love,” Mr. Greedy said. “But also for my tonics and supplies.” The man bent to inspect a plant. “See now, this is hellebore. There’s many varieties and many uses—one of which is helping a person with gout.”

“I did not know that,” Charlie said, shooting Flora a wide-eyed look that to her posed the question of why he was being told this.

“He makes it for me a time or two,” another voice said from behind them.

Flora found Mr. Alvin, another elderly resident of Crabbett Close. He, too, was wrapped in many layers with his hat pulled low.

“Well now, this is nice,” Mr. Greedy said, smiling. “New friends, Mr. Alvin, are a blessing. This here is our Miss Flora’s brother, Mr. Charles.”

Flora loved how some people just added a title onto her first name here, while others called her Miss Thomas.

“Nice day for a walk; it has to be noted,” Mr. Alvin said, wandering through the gate to join his friend.

Flora was fairly sure a snowflake just landed on her nose.

“Words are easy,” Mr. Greedy said, “like the wind, but faithful friends are hard to find.”

“Aye, let friends trust friends,” Mr. Alvin said. “Love demands love’s like.”

“Right. Good day to you,” Charles said, raising his hat. He then grabbed Flora’s arm, and they were soon marching down the street.

“Those men just quoted famous poets, Flora, while sitting in their knitted jumpers in the garden.”

“Aren’t they wonderful? This is what I love about Crabbett Close. It is its own little village.”

“Of unusual and weird?”

“Of wonderful,” Flora added.

“Oh, Miss Thomas, who is this with you?”

“Prepare to flee, Brother,” Flora said out the side of her mouth.

“Pardon?”

“Can’t stop, Miss Varney. I fear we are late!” Flora said, raising a hand. She then clutched her brother’s arm and ran. “We want to arrive at our destination before the rain starts!”

“What was that about?” Charlie asked when they had finally left Crabbett Close.

“That is a woman who is hunting quite openly for a husband, Brother.”

“Dear God, walk faster!”