The Rebellious Rake (The Notorious Nightingales #4)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

F lora’s mouth was on fire from the whisky, but it did burn a pleasant trail down her throat. The feeling almost eradicated the annoyance she felt that Ramsey had purchased her house and said he’d been faster in his decision-making than her, because it was true—he had.

“How dare you,” she whispered loudly. “The least you could have done was ask if I wished to purchase it.”

“You did not speak to the man selling the house. This, I know, as I asked. Nor did you view it again, as I did.” Ramsey’s tone was entirely too rational for her liking.

“I am not someone who does things without a great deal of thought. I was writing lists and working through them.”

“As she is my sister, I can attest to that statement.” Charles skipped by with Matilda’s hand in his. “She likes lists and working through them. I’m not sure I like you holding my sister’s hand, Hellion.”

“Too bad,” Ram said, which created even more warmth inside Flora.

“I have purchased the house. End of story, Flora. Find another one. There are plenty of old people in this close, so I’m sure a house will come free soon enough.”

“Ramsey!” Flora gasped, horrified at his words. She then looked left and right. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“But truthful. Hello, you must be Oscar Murphy, the exceedingly handsome Irishman Mungo speaks of constantly,” Ram said to the man now standing at the table they’d arrived at.

Flora had already met Mr. Murphy and liked him. He wore his overcoat and hat and looked every inch the businessman he was.

“Indeed, I am, sir.” He smiled at Ram. “Good day to you again, Miss Thomas.”

“Good day. You have lovely eyes, Mr. Murphy,” Flora said because her tongue felt a great deal looser than it usually was. “A stunning shade of blue.”

Oscar Murphy’s smile widened. Flora heard a low growl and looked around for one of the dogs but found instead Mungo glaring at the Irishman.

“Good day to you, Mr. Mungo,” the Irishman said, clearly not threatened like everyone else by the man. “It’s a fine evening for some fun.”

“Wee eejit,” Mungo muttered.

Oscar bowed.

“I already like the man a great deal considering he has no issue with provoking our Scottish behemoth,” Ram said.

“Uncle Bram, Charles is being gluttonous!” Matilda cried.

“I beg your pardon, I am not,” her brother denied.

“Gluttonous!” the Nightingale siblings cried. They then all started walking about and squawking like chickens.

“I presume gluttonous is the word of the day?” Ram said to Flora. “Why are you not doing a chicken imitation?”

“I am not a sibling,” Flora said, studying the contents of the table before them. She could have her pick if the others were busy, even if Ramsey was near.

“But you carry their blood,” Ramsey persisted.

“This is something that only the Nightingale siblings have done for many years,” Flora said. “Leo told me that Matilda was a sickly child, so they started this game for her and are still doing it.”

“Ah, now I understand,” Ram said solemnly. “The love they share for each other is a wonderful thing.”

“It is,” Flora replied softly in total agreement.

“Right, Flora, slimy food, sweet food, alcohol, and a task. What do you want to do?” Theo said when he’d finished being a chicken, but Flora noted her cousin’s eyes were on a young woman farther down the table.

“Who is that?” Ram asked Flora.

“Mavis Johns’s niece.”

“I never knew she had family?”

Flora shot him a look, annoyed that just being near him again made her feel different. She was aware of every breath he drew and move he made. He looked large and handsome standing there in the frigid conditions, and she wanted to cling to her anger over him buying that house, but she knew it was waning.

“You know everything about the Crabbett Close residents?” Flora said, her tone deliberately snooty.

“Of course, seeing as I am one of them.” He was laughing at her, a mocking look on his face.

“I’ll take the task,” Theo said before she could respond.

Picking up the plate holding something vile and wobbly, Flora handed it to Ramsey.

“Much as I love aspic jelly, let Theo eat it,” he said.

“Seeing as you purchased the house that I wanted to own in a most devious manner, you eat it,” Flora added .

He took the plate. “In my defense, I didn’t think you were serious in your intention to purchase that property.”

“You never asked.” Flora picked up the mug and sniffed. “And you told me you would never live in this street.”

“Clearly I lied,” he drawled. “Besides, you live in Willow Hill. How was I to know you wanted a change of scenery?” Ramsey protested.

“I told you I wanted that house.” She sniffed the mug again. It had a delicious scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

“Spiced rum,” Ivy said from beside her. Her red nose told Flora that perhaps she’d consumed a few of the alcoholic beverages also. “It is everyone’s favorite drink.”

“Drink, then,” Ramsey said, nudging the cup upward to her mouth.

She wanted to ask him if there had been anyone else following him or attempting to grab him. Flora was desperate to know if his Uncle Brandon had sought him out, too, but she didn’t want him to know she was interested. Perhaps she’d ask Gray instead while he was foxed.

“Should I drink that if you are not used to?—”

Before Ram could finish that sentence, she’d thrown back the contents. When she was finished, Flora pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and looked down so he didn’t see her eyes were watering.

“It’s really made to be sipped,” Bram said. “We always have a bottle on hand for that.”

“Gah,” Flora managed to get out.

“It’s superb in coffee, or so I’ve been told,” Matilda said.

All the eyes of her family swung her way.

“Mungo told me,” she added quickly.

“Aye, I did.”

Ramsey made a gagging noise as he ate the horrid aspic jelly .

“This was certainly worth waiting for.” He held up the now-empty plate and made a humming sound of appreciation that fooled no one.

“Your head is going to hurt tomorrow, Flora. Gray’s always does,” Theo said.

“Now then, Master Theo, you go on and read the riddle,” Mr. Douglas said.

“You saw me where I could not be. Yet often you see me. What am I?” Theo read the words slowly off the piece of paper he held.

Flora looked at Ram, who had his face screwed up in concentration.

“Reflection,” he said at the same time as her.

“Correct,” Mr. Douglas said.

Anna shot by with the dogs on her heels, laughing. Chester and Curaidh were wearing matching jackets.

“I love how happy this family can be,” Flora said because she felt right then and there the words needed to be spoken. “I love how this place embraces a person no matter their standing in life.”

“Yes, when that has not always been your life, it is a wonderful thing to be part of,” Ramsey said.

“Has your life been unhappy, Ramsey?”

“Not all of it,” he said. Their eyes met, and she felt like he was lying to her and, in fact, his life had not been a happy one, and that hurt her heart.

“I’m sorry most of it was.” Flora touched his arm.

“I’m all right, Flora.” He placed his hand over hers and squeezed gently. “How about you? Was your life happy?”

“I thought for the most part it was,” she said, her eyes finding Charles. He was laughing with Harriet and Alex.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh dear,” Ellen said loudly from behind them, and the moment was gone .

They both followed Ellen’s gaze.

“Must have slipped on ice,” Mungo said, looking less grumpy.

Flora found Gray staggering sideways, attempting to stay upright. He collided with Mavis Johns, who steadied him.

“Did you trip my cousin, Mungo?” Ram asked.

“Aye.” The Scotsman had no trace of shame in his voice.

“Well done, neighbor,” Ram said to annoy him.

Mungo picked up his glass and drank the entire contents with his eyes on Ramsey. “You’ll not be at our house every minute of every day,” the Scotsman said when he’d finished.

“But Bram and Ivy have said they hope I will join you all for at least one meal each day.”

Mungo bared his teeth.

“And here is Miss Varney,” Fred said loudly.

“How old is Mungo?” Flora whispered to Leo. “No one seems to know, and yet I find I want to.”

“Unsure, but not as old as his crotchety demeanor suggests, I believe.”

“I’m arresting you,” Gray slurred when he reached them in less than his usual pristine appearance. Mungo simply curled his lips. “Ah, Miss Varney,” Gray added. “Mungo told me he ish… is composhing a poem to you.”

“Tut-tut, Cousin. Hiding behind your wife’s skirts,” Ram said as Mungo reached for Gray. One of Scotland Yard’s most fearsome detectives yelped and hid behind Ellen.

“Who won?” Theo demanded.

“Have we finished, then?” Flora asked. “I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

“It’s cold and snowing, in case no one has noticed.” Harriet was looking skyward.

“And the winner is Mavis Johns and her team!” Mr. Greedy called.

“I’m quite sure she cheats,” Bramstone said .

“Again?” Theo scowled.

“Perhaps next time?” Mavis said, her expression the same as it always was—neither happy nor sad but calm.

“The Christmas carols will begin on Wednesday evening outside Mrs. Varney’s house,” Mr. Greedy said, now standing on a chair. “Nancy will host mince pies and mulled wine after. Nancy’s uncle is the butler in a fine house and procured several bottles of red wine for us, which she is now preparing!”

“Procured or stole?” Ram asked anyone listening.

“It pays not to ask,” Bram said. “If I’ve learned anything living here, it’s that.”

“I love this time of year here. Unlike the rest of London, Crabbett Close starts celebrations early,” Ellen said.

“House decorations will be judged five days before Christmas by Mavis and Lord Seddon,” Mr. Greedy continued. “Please make an effort, and I am looking at you, Clemmie Acton. Mr. Hellion has a year’s grace, next year he will be expected to participate in full.”

“Who is Clemmie Acton?” Ram asked before Flora could. His head then swiveled from side to side, searching for the man.

“He moved in two Christmases ago and has refused to participate in any events or decorate,” Alex said softly. “The man’s a hermit, but the Crabbett Close residents are nothing if not tenacious. He’s there, dressed in a coat that’s overlarge and makes him look like a shady character. I’ve never spoken to him, and as you know, I like to chat. The man is shut up tighter than Mungo’s sporran.”

“I’m now no longer angry with you for purchasing that house,” Flora whispered to Ramsey. “I’m not sure I could have coped with the pressure of living here.”

“I have a feeling I will be an abject failure at all the things that would make me a solid resident of Crabbett Close, but of course I need only do better than Clemmie to achieve that,” Ramsey replied.

“There is that,” Alex agreed.

“You must try harder with your Christmas decorations,” Theo said to Ram. “We shall help you.”

“I’d be grateful.”

“I wonder who is arriving in that carriage,” Harriet said. They all turned to watch it roll around the close and stop outside Ramsey’s house.

“That’s your home, Ram,” Alex said. “Are you expecting visitors?”

They watched as the door opened and a woman stepped down.

“I wasn’t, but it seems now I must.”