The Rebellious Rake (The Notorious Nightingales #4)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

R amsey handed a cup and saucer to the woman now seated in his front parlor. He then lowered a plate to the table.

“How did you find me here, Mother?”

“You sent me a letter stating you were to purchase a property here. I called at your old lodgings first to see if you had already relocated. The man who opened the door gave me details of how to find you.”

“But why are you in London?”

Having left the Crabbett Close games after losing—something Theo would remind him often of, he was sure—he’d reached her as she’d stood outside his front door, hand poised to knock.

“Can I not wish to visit my son?”

Cynthia Hellion was every inch a lady and had been the perfect wife to her husband. She never argued or stood up to him. Her husband’s word was law.

“Of course, but I feel there is more to your being here, especially as I told you I was to visit you in a few weeks.”

When he’d walked into the building in India and found his mother bound and gagged, she’d been broken, but she was now back to who she’d always been: compliant, held no opinions, and terrified of conflict. Her face was, as usual, void of emotion, although her eyes were another matter. Something was very wrong if the panicked look in them was any indication.

“Your letter said you saw your Uncle Brandon.”

Ramsey wasn’t sure why he tensed at those words, but he did. He nodded.

She took a tiny sip of tea and then lowered the cup back to the saucer.

“And someone has attempted to abduct you twice now, Ramsey?”

“Yes, the first time, I was rescued by a friend.” Yes, Flora was that and so much more now, he thought. “The second time, it was Uncle Brandon who came to my aid. He disappeared before I could speak further with him.”

His mother looked down at the skirts of her pale green dress. Elegant as always, she was not a large woman, and seemed even more slender than she’d been when last he saw her.

“Why do you think these men are after you?”

“I don’t know, Mother. It could be someone who followed me from India.” He wouldn’t lie to her.

She shuddered at the memory of what she’d endured because of her husband. Not once had she censured him, however, and that was something that lay between them—his mother’s refusal to acknowledge the bastard Ram’s father had been.

“Dear Lord, do you think so?” She didn’t have much color in her cheeks, but what there was drained away.

“I can think of no other reason someone would want to harm me. But I would be happier if you were in the country with your sister, surrounded by staff, where you were safe until this is settled, Mother.”

“I will of course return at once, but there is something I need to tell you. I have thought long and hard about this, but with Brandon’s appearance in your life, I fear he may mean you harm or tell you something….” She pressed her fingers to her lips, and he noted they were trembling.

“What is it, Mother?” Ramsey rose because he felt like he needed to be standing for what was to come next.

She put her cup down and rose too. Walking to the bag she’d brought, she then opened it and took out a pile of what looked to be letters. They were bound in a white ribbon.

“Before I tell you, I need you to know, your father and I wanted you very much and loved you.”

He made a scoffing sound before he could stop himself. “You may have loved me, but both of us know my father never did,” Ram said. The shock on his mother’s face was real because he’d never spoken this way to her before.

“He was a good man?—”

“No, he was not, Mother. He hated me and was unfeeling toward you. You may have no wish to acknowledge that, but I will. I now understand what being part of a family can feel like. What being respected and loved feels like.” Dear God, shut up. It was like a dam had burst inside him, and suddenly every emotion he’d kept inside was spilling free.

“No, Ramsey!” His mother held out a hand to him, he ignored it.

“Tell me why you came to London, Mother.” Ram walked to the window and looked out at the dark skies. He felt a desperate need to be out there, walking across that grass to the Nightingale home, where there was light and warmth. Where people laughed and expressed their love. Where Flora was .

“Your father and I were married for many years but had not been blessed with a child.”

His eyes shot to hers.

“Brandon was married to a wonderful lady called Grace, and they were blissfully happy.” She was looking at him, her eyes damp with tears. “Grace was due to have a child, but the labor took so long, and the doctors feared both she and the child would die.”

Ram kept his eyes locked on his mother as every muscle in his body clenched. His chest felt so tight, he wasn’t sure he could force air into it.

“The baby was born, and Grace died minutes later.” She moved a step closer to Ram. “Brandon was distraught. He loved her desperately. Theirs was a love I envied,” she added in a small, tight voice.

“Because you never had it?” His words were hoarse.

“Your father was called in to comfort Brandon because he was inconsolable, but his brother wanted nothing from him in that moment but to be left alone to mourn Grace.”

“Wh-why are you telling me this?”

“Because Brandon took the child from the doctor and handed it to your father. He said, ‘I don’t want it and never want to see it again.’”

“Me,” Ram whispered.

His mother nodded. “Yes. I took you and cared for you for the next few days, sure that Brandon would want you when he was thinking clearly. But the day of the funeral, he buried Grace and then told your father he was leaving England. The child was ours, and he wanted nothing to do with you.”

Ram turned away from her, pressing both his palms into the cold glass of the window. The chill broke the fog of shock.

“And you never told me.” Ram was impressed with how calm he sounded. “I wondered for years why my father could never love me. Why neither of you really seemed to want me.”

“No! I wanted you.”

He laughed at that. “Mother, you barely hugged me and never, not once, told me you loved me.”

She looked devastated. “I-it was our way. Your father told me we could not spoil you with affection if you were to grow to be a strong man.”

He laughed again, a humorless sound that in no way resembled the sounds he’d made during the Crabbett Close games. “And you always did everything he wanted of you?”

“He was my husband.”

“I know.”

The silence stretched between them.

“Brandon and your father wrote to each other when his grief had eased slightly. It was understood between them that staying with us was the best for you.”

“He wanted me?” Ram demanded.

“He said he would like to be in your life. That he’d fled distraught and given no thought to you or your welfare. He was ashamed of that, but Brandon knew it was better for you to be in a family.”

He wanted to deny that they’d ever been a family, but there was no point; he could do nothing about the life he’d lived now.

“I will leave you, as I have promised Mrs. Simpkin that I will spend the night with her,” his mother said.

“Just like that? You’ve told me my entire life was a lie, and now you’re leaving?”

“I love you, for all you didn’t believe I did, Ramsey,” she said, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. “But it is best I go now. I told my driver to return within the hour.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, falling back on what he’d always been: polite, distant, and never asking for anything from his parents because they’d been incapable of giving it to him. “Thank you for telling me.”

She came closer and held out the bundle of papers. Ram took it.

“The first letter Brandon wrote to me came when you were two years old, and from then on, he conversed with me often about you until you were sixteen. When we returned to London, I wrote and told him of your father’s death and that we were now living here.”

“You should have told me,” Ram said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I could not go against your father’s wishes.”

“What of my wishes. What of my need to know why it was my father didn’t love me?”

His mother moved closer then, and kissed his cheek, and that, Ram thought, was all she had to say on the matter that had turned his life on its head.

“You really are simply going to leave?”

“It is for the best. You know where I am if you have questions.”

“Yes, because heaven forbid you stayed and discussed this with me. Actually showed some emotion,” he snapped.

She gave him a sad smile before walking out of the room. Ram watched from the window, not even bothering to follow, as she climbed into the carriage and rolled away.

Ram stumbled into a seat, the memories bombarding him. He’d never felt part of the family he’d been raised in. His father had censured him constantly, and he’d taken it because there had been no other option.

Untying the ribbon, he pulled out the first letter.

I loved my wife, Cynthia, and that blinded me to all else. It is no excuse, but now, with the grief dulled slightly, I can see what I did was wrong. I can also see that the best place for my son is with a mother and a father.

Ram read the letter and then the next, each asking for more information on the son his wife, Ram’s mother, had birthed. Each told the story of Brandon’s journey to finding a way to exist without the woman who had been his soul mate.

I will have more money sent to you for his education and for any of his needs. This is the least I can do.

The letters always ended with: More money will be sent for Ramsey’s needs. The only thing his father had spent money on for Ram was an education and clothing; the rest, he understood now, was spent on investing in corrupt ventures.

I have obeyed your wishes, Cynthia, and not come to see Ramsey, but I would like to meet my son one day, even as his uncle. I want you to discuss this with my brother and let me know when we can make this happen. This, at least, you owe me.

He read every single word on those pages, and when he was done, Ram retied the ribbon and lowered them onto the small table before him. He then rose, pulled on his overcoat, and walked out of his house with Curaidh on his heels.