The Rebellious Rake (The Notorious Nightingales #4)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“ W ell, it seems we are to make a tidy sum, but I think we should reinvest some of the money in Mr. Huntington’s next project as well as that shipment of silks arriving in a few months,” Charles said as they traveled back to Crabbett Close.

“At least we agree on that,” Flora said to her brother. “We shall make enquiries to take a place here in London for a while.”

“I think we should show caution and not put too much money in the next investment,” Charles added.

“We will talk on it some more when we have read the correspondence handed out,” Flora added. She and Charles had heated debates often about what to do with their money. Both liked to debate most things, but what annoyed Flora the most was she usually escalated it into an argument. Only her brother could make her do that. It was excessively vexing.

“Sad as it is to admit it, there is actually not much left for us in Willow Hill, which is hard to accept when you get down to it, as we’ve lived all our lives there,” Charles said .

“Yes, we grew up with friends, but most are now either wed or moved away,” Flora added.

They had climbed in a hackney upon leaving the warehouse. When the hackney stopped at the entrance of Crabbett Close, as Flora had requested, they got down.

“Come, I want to show you the bookshop. It’s wonderful, and then I am introducing you to apricotines, Charles. I have a yearning for sugar today.”

“I’ll pass on the books, but I will inspect the bakery.” He touched her shoulder. “Flora, I’m not quite sure we’ll ever get over the news of having a brother, but it will get easier.”

She just nodded and then took the steps up into the bookshop while her brother went to the bakery.

“Good day to you,” the lady behind the counter said.

“Good day,” Flora responded. Her eyes went to the portrait behind her of the man she knew as George. He’d been a friend to the Nightingales and was murdered right here in the shop, or so Ellen told her. It had been she who found his body.

“How can I help you today?” the lady behind the counter, who was George’s sister, asked.

“Do you have any poetry?”

“We do. It is at the end of that aisle.” The woman pointed.

Soon Flora was reading her way down the titles until she reached the poetry section, where an elderly woman wearing a thick black cloak stood. In one hand, she held a book; the other held a cane that she was leaning on. Beside her was a younger woman who wore a stylish deep blue coat to her ankles and matching bonnet reading also.

“You should read this, gal.” The woman waved the book at Flora.

“She can make her own choices, Duchess, stop forcing yours on people,” the younger woman said, smiling at Flora .

She was beautiful like Ellen; the kind of beauty that was effortless and some women just had and others tried to emulate.

“I always enjoy recommendations,” Flora said.

“Well then, here.” The woman thrust the book at her. “Read something worthwhile.”

“I was actually going to purchase a volume of poetry.”

“Who?” the elderly woman snapped. The younger one sighed.

“Keats,” Flora said.

“Drivel!” the woman declared.

“She’s a horrid lady, but we tolerate her. No manners, you see,” the woman said, not lowering her voice. “I’m Dimity, Lady Raine.” She held out her hand. “Seeing as this kind of abuse from the duchess is a constant in my life, I feel we should be friends.”

“What is taking so long!”

These words came from a large dark-haired man who was now standing in the doorway of the bookshop.

“Go away, we are browsing and discussing literature. A heathen like you would not understand such things,” the woman she now knew was a duchess said.

Shocked, Flora looked back to the man, who didn’t seem upset at this statement.

“Heathen, is it? I’m an earl who sits in the House of Lords. You, however, offer very little to anyone but insults,” the man said.

The duchess screeched her displeasure and stomped to where he stood. She then jabbed a gnarled finger into his chest.

“Is it any wonder I love that man?” Lady Raine said from beside her. “They care about each other really.”

“I’m sure they do,” Flora said when secretly she didn’t think that at all .

“It was lovely to meet you,” Lady Raine said, one questioning brow now raised as she looked at Flora.

“Miss Flora Thomas,” she put in quickly.

“Are you visiting, Flora, or do you live in London?” she asked.

“I am visiting with my family, the Nightingales.”

Dimity clapped her hands together. “How wonderful. I love the Nightingales. Do say hello for me. As yet, I have not been invited to a wedding there, but my friends the Sinclairs and Ravens have. I will be rectifying that when the chance presents itself.”

“Dimity!” her husband snapped. “Don’t tarry, or the duchess will likely expire, seeing as she is so old.”

“Old, is it!” Flora watched the elderly woman slap the earl on the arm.

“Good day to you, Flora Thomas. Enjoy the book,” Lady Raine said, passing her with an elegant swish of her coat and her lovely scent filling the air.

Looking down at the book she was clasping, she saw the title: Jane Eyre . Walking to the counter without looking for poetry, she purchased it.

Flora found Charles leaning against the side of the bakery eating when she left the bookshop.

“These apricotines are superb,” he said, holding out the package he carried toward her. “Try one.”

“I’ve eaten several already. They are a staple diet in the Nightingale household. Mr. Hellion will sell his soul for them, or so I’ve heard.”

“These just may sway me to stay here.”

“They are good,” Flora agreed, taking a bite of the one she now held.

“Stop handling me!”

“I say, is that man hurting that elderly woman?” Charles said, starting forward .

“No, they were in the bookshop. Apparently, according to Lady Raine, the pretty lady with them, her husband and the duchess, who is the older woman, like to argue.”

“Noblemen,” Charlie said, dropping the last of his sweet treat into his mouth, “they’re an odd lot.”

They wandered into Crabbett Close and found a group of residents gathered outside a house. The smell of alcohol filled the air.

“Hello!” A hand raised and Flora saw it belonged to Mr. Greedy.

“We’re brewing our brandy. Mr. Peeky has the secret recipe that only a few of us know. We make a batch each year. You’ll taste some come Christmas Eve,” Mr. Greedy said. “Mind, it takes two years and not a day less to ensure it’s ready.”

“I like brandy,” Charlie said.

“It’s awfully cold to be milling about out here, surely?” Flora said. “You should all be inside the house at the very least.” Not that she thought all of them would actually fit in there.

“House is full, as the children have gathered in there. We don’t feel the cold, not with that fire there,” Miss Alvin said. She was standing behind a bush, and it was then Flora saw the plumes of smoke.

Flora and Charlie looked and found a small fire blazing in what looked to be the bottom half of a milk pail.

“Ingenious,” Charlie said, moving closer to inspect.

“Would you like a dram to taste? We’ve opened a bottle to test it’s ready for the next Crabbett Close festivities,” Mr. Alvin said.

“I would indeed,” Charlie said.

“How about you, Miss Flora?”

“I would like to try it, please.”

Two small mugs were brought out and handed to them. The air held a bite, but it was nothing to the taste Flora sipped from the cup. She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t burned a hole through her tongue.

“Gah,” she managed to rasp.

“This is excellent brandy,” Charlie said.

Her brother was on his second mug when Flora managed to swallow her last mouthful. She then excused herself, stating she’d be back to collect Charlie soon.

Hurrying away before someone decided she should stay, she made for 11 Crabbett Close with the brandy sloshing about inside her belly. A loud woof had her looking to the park, and there she found Chester and Curaidh running around. Crossing the road, she headed there to make sure they didn’t need rounding up and taking back inside the house. She saw Theo as she drew closer.

“Hello, Flora.” He had a large stick in his hand and was hurling it for the dogs.

“Hello, Theo. How has Curaidh been today?”

“Very good. Ram and Alex are over there arguing, so I’m keeping away from them.”

Flora followed his finger and found the two men standing outside a tall, narrow home. Ramsey was shaking his head violently, and Alex nodding.

“What are they discussing?”

“That house, I think. As yet, I’m unsure why. Constable Plummy is approaching them, so that should irritate Ram more, as he seems the one most upset by whatever is taking place.” Theo hurled the stick, sending the dogs thundering after it.

Burrowing deeper into her scarf, Flora thought the brandy was having rather a pleasant effect on her now. She felt almost happy, as long as she didn’t think about her father .

“Oh dear.” Flora watched Ram jab a finger into Alex’s chest.

“That has to hurt,” Theo said. “You need to go over there, Flora, before blood is shed.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You’re not a sibling and, therefore, impartial. Plus, perhaps one of those two will listen to you.”

“Neither of them will listen to me.”

“Well, they won’t listen to me,” Theo said.

“No!” Ram’s roar reached them and had Flora moving.

“Well now, there is no need to yell, Mr. Hellion,” Constable Plummy was saying when Flora arrived.

Ramsey looked ready to burst, and his emotions slammed into Flora when she stopped beside the constable.

“Flora,” Alex said, looking calm and still smiling, unlike the dark cloud at his side. “How lovely to see you, and just in time to help us view this property.”

She looked to the house that appeared almost identical to the one the Nightingales lived in, only narrower.

“Why are you viewing it?”

“It’s a very sad state of affairs, Miss Flora,” Constable Plummy said. “Mrs. Lewis passed away and left this to her son, who in turn has leased it, but he is now wanting it sold, as he is in need of the money.”

“How is it you know this kind of thing, Plummy?” Alex asked. “Considering your job is to patrol many streets in London and not just our one.”

Constable Plummy cleared his throat a few times at that. “Well, I like to keep abreast of many things.”

“And my uncle’s housekeeper has nothing to do with your knowledge of Crabbett Close?”

The man’s face flushed with color, and Flora almost felt sorry for him.

“I’m leaving,” Ramsey snapped .

“No, you are not,” Alex said. “The least you can do is view the house, as I have set it up for you. Besides, considering your life is under threat and Gray wants you to move in with him, I think this is the better option, don’t you?”

Ramsey growled.

Plummy coughed.

Alex made a humming sound like he did when eating, which he did a lot.

She’d heard of tennis matches but never actually witnessed one, but her head was moving from left to right as she watched the men, and while she was not exactly pickled, she was certainly feeling a little fuzzy in the head.

“Alex!” Theo’s voice had them all turning. “Chester has stolen Mrs. Douglas’s bread again!”

Alex and the constable took off at a sprint, leaving Flora and Ram.

“Hello,” she said cautiously.

“Did you enjoy the investment discussions?” His voice was cold and hard, which made her bristle.

“Yes. My brother and I invest in one of his consortiums,” she snapped. “And if you say a word about a woman doing such a thing?—”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Miss Thomas.” His hands were now in his pockets, and he was looking at the house before him.

To Flora, he looked even larger in that thick black coat and hat, and in his current mood, intimidating.

“I was beating you to those words,” she said slowly.

“Where is your brother? He was with you at the warehouse.” The words were snapped at her with none of his usual eloquence.

“He is drinking at Mr. Peeky’s while they brew a batch of brandy. ”

“Dear God, and you left him?” Ramsey looked shocked now.

“He is an adult.”

His eyes narrowed, and then he leaned in closer to look at her.

“Did you have some of that firewater? Your eyes seem squinty.”

“Only a little,” Flora said. “And I can assure you, I am not pickled in the least.”

“The fact you needed to say that as slowly as you did tells me otherwise.”

“Don’t be pompous. Now why are you looking at this house?”

“Besides the reason you broke your betrothment, what are you not telling your cousins, Flora?” he snapped back at her.

She masked her surprise and then clamped her lips together. She was good at silence when required. Her mother liked to chatter, and her big sister, too, which had sometimes annoyed him . Thinking about her father made hurt bloom inside her again.

“What?”

“What?” Flora parroted.

“Your face screwed up.”

“I asked you a question first,” Flora said.

“And I asked you what is upsetting you. Your cousins are tiptoeing around you but worried. You should have told them about the engagement, like you did me?—”

“Which you said you’d keep a secret,” Flora said quickly.

“As I have,” he snarled.

“As I have your secret.”

He frowned down at her, looking like a large, immovable object. Flora looked to where Alex and Theo were chasing Chester around the park with Constable Plummy trailing behind them.

“Your dog is not helping matters,” she said.

“I’m sure they will work things out. Now back to you?—”

“No, Mr. Hellion, I am telling you nothing more about my personal life and that of my family.”

She hadn’t known her family were worried enough about her to mention the fact to him. Flora was very sorry she had made them feel that way, but the humiliation from her fiancé and now her father’s actions was not something she wished to discuss with anyone, ever.

“Alex wants me to purchase this property,” Ramsey said.

Her eyes snapped back to him.

“Perhaps that is not a bad idea for now, until the matter of who wishes to dispose of you is solved.”

“I am not living in Crabbett Close.” His words came out a growl.

“I can see why not, of course, considering you are a grown man who no doubt is filled with pride and has no wish for anyone to worry for his welfare,” Flora said. “But how lucky that you do have people that care.”

“Flora,” he said in a voice she was sure some people were scared of. She was not. “It would not be advisable for you to poke at me right now, as currently I am not my usual sunny-natured self.”

“Well, in that case, good day to you, Mr. Hellion. I have had more than enough of men behaving foolishly in my life, and I am interested in viewing this house. So goodbye.” She headed to the narrow entrance, which was behind a black iron gate. Opening it, she entered and shut it loudly behind her.

To the left was a small seat nestled in what had once been a lovely small front garden but was now riddled with weeds. Two narrow windows were on either side of a front door that looked like it needed painting.

Stopping a few feet from said door, she looked up at the facade. Flora thought the building was a little like Miss Alvin: old, a little tatty and worn, but still full of life.

“I am not living in Crabbett Close,” a deep voice said into her left ear.

“No, but I might.”