The Rebellious Rake (The Notorious Nightingales #4)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

F lora had been just about to climb up the stairs to retire to her room for the night when she saw the dog waiting patiently beside the front door. As no one else was about, she took on the nightly chore this evening.

“Don’t tarry, Chester. Get it done so we may get back inside to the warmth.”

The dog put his nose on the ground and sniffed; he then started moving. Rather than stand still and freeze, Flora followed. No doubt the animal would find some leftover crumbs from the Crabbett Close games.

She’d enjoyed them, even if the disturbing Ramsey Hellion had been in her team. A loud woof had her searching through the weak light for Chester. A single streetlamp showed her the silhouette of a man seated on the bench, head lowered.

Moving closer, she tried to see who it was. If it was a drunkard sleeping off the excesses of his day, she would leave him there and tell Mungo to help him. A few feet away she realized it was Ramsey .

“Ramsey?” Flora moved closer.

His head shot up, and the devastation on his face made her stomach clench.

“What has happened?” She dropped down before him. Taking his hands in hers, she realized he was gloveless. “Tell me,” she demanded, rubbing his frozen fingers between hers.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up and into him, and in seconds she was sitting in his lap. His arms banded around her tight and held her pressed to his large body.

“Let me help you,” Flora whispered the words into his neck. She was desperate to know what had upset him.

“You can’t.” His nose was ice-cold pressed to her cheek. “Just let me hold you, and for now, that is enough.”

She did for a while until the cold threatened to turn them into ice sculptures.

“You’re frozen. We need to get you back to your house. Or to the Nightingales’—”

“No. Not yet. I don’t want to speak to anyone but you.”

She pushed out of his arms and rose to stand before him. Holding out a hand, she stood there, waiting. He looked at her, eyes anguished, and then took it, folding her fingers inside his. They then walked in silence back to his house.

Once there, she opened the door, and the dogs shot inside and disappeared to the rear of the house. They both shrugged out of their coats and then walked into the small parlor. She shut the door to keep the heat in. A fire was glowing in the hearth. Nudging him into a chair before it, she went to the side table and poured liquid from the decanter into a glass. Handing it to him, she took the seat beside his.

He sipped in silence, his eyes on the fire.

“What has happened?”

“My mother came to deliver some letters from my father. ”

“Oh, Ramsey, I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not the man who died. He was not my father.” The words were cold and hard.

“I don’t understand?”

“The man I believed to be my Uncle Brandon is my real father. He didn’t want me as a constant reminder of the woman he loved, who died birthing me. He gave me to his brother, who also didn’t want me.”

“Dear Lord,” Flora whispered.

“My mother came to tell me this and bring me letters. Apparently, when my real father was no longer grief stricken, he remembered me and they started corresponding.”

“I’m so sorry,” Flora said, feeling hopeless. Her chest hurt for his pain.

His laugh was more an angry bark. “Don’t be. It’s a relief to know that bastard was not my father, even if I don’t know the real one.”

“Tell me what the letters said.”

“You can read them if you want.”

“No. I want you to tell me what they say,” Flora said.

Ramsey looked at her. Open and unguarded, she read the anguish in his eyes.

“He said he was sorry, and every letter was asking for details about me. He wanted to see me, but my father did not want that.”

“I understand the reason they did that when you were young, but when you were old enough to comprehend Uncle Brandon was your father, one of your parents should have told you,” Flora said.

“It was a shock, but there is also some relief that I wasn’t sired by him. I never liked my father very much, and I don’t think he liked me either.”

“I’m so very sorry, Ramsey. ”

“This too shall pass,” he said with a small, tight smile.

“My father was having an affair for most of my life.” The words rushed out of Flora.

“Christ,” Ramsey whispered.

“Charles came to London to tell me.” She felt the lump form in her throat again. “First, he lied to us about our finances and then this. I feel like my entire life was a lie. Not like you, but as if every word he spoke to us or in his sermons was a mistruth.”

Ramsey held out a hand, and she took it, gripping the fingers tight as she relived that moment Charles told her.

“We have a brother, and our father asked us to look after him and his mistress.”

Ramsey hissed out something foul.

“To be honest, it is a relief to tell someone who is not involved in my family,” Flora said.

“I wanted to talk to you when I found out,” Ram added.

“Father apologized but said his love for this woman was so strong, he could never leave her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” she said to him.

They looked at each other for long heartbeats, and then he was regaining his feet and tugging her upright with him. His hands cupped her cheeks.

“I hate my father for what he did to us, Ram.” She gave voice to the thoughts she’d kept inside. “And I hate the man who should have understood the honor bestowed on him when his brother handed him you. How dare he not love you like I—others do,” she said.

“But you don’t hate my real father for giving me up?” Ram’s face was so close to hers now.

“I don’t know him, but I know grief can destroy a person and stop them from thinking rationally. I know that if he carries your blood, he is a good, honorable man, Ramsey. ”

“You don’t know that about me.” His breath brushed her lips as he spoke.

“I do, because my family loves you, and they are good, honorable people.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t let what he was or what he did to you change the man you are, Ramsey. Stay exactly who you are,” Flora said.

“I made myself the exact opposite of the man who raised me.”

“But you have demons because no one raised without love doesn’t have those,” she whispered. “Were you?”

“Raised without love?”

She nodded.

“There have been people in my life who loved me, Flora, but I don’t think those were my parents.”

The tears slipped over her lids and trailed down her cheeks. His thumb brushed them away.

“I’m sorry about what your father did, Flora. But he loved you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Then hold on to that, sweetheart. Because there is no greater gift than to be loved.”

The tears flowed faster as he pulled her into his arms. One large hand held her head against his chest, and her arms banded around his back.

“We need to find this Uncle Brandon who is actually your father now, Ramsey.”

“Do we?” She felt his lips in her hair.

“Yes. It is never too late to have another person in your life who loves you.” Even though you already do.

“If he loved me, he would have made an effort to meet me, Flora.”

“Perhaps he believed staying away was for the best?”

“He did, but?— ”

“Until you speak with him, you know nothing, Ramsey.” She looked up at him again. “You have to ask him how it was that he was there that day and helped you when you were attacked.”

“I want that, but right now I want to kiss you, Flora.”

She’d wanted that since his arms had closed around her, so she nodded. Rising to her toes, she met his mouth as it came down on hers.

This, she thought as he kissed her. Since the last time he’d done this, she’d wanted it again. Needed it to stop the ache deep inside her that only he had ever made her feel.

He kissed her like he never wanted to stop, and she was right there with him. Each stroke of his tongue and pass of his hand as it traveled up and down her spine made the heat inside her grow.

“I need you tonight, Flora, but I cannot have you. So we will stop,” he said, gripping her shoulders in preparation of easing her away from his big body.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“You can’t ask that of me. I want you too much, but I won’t?—”

She wrenched free and stepped back. “I have been dictated to enough in my life by men. First, my father guided me and, as it turned out, was a liar. Then I thought I wanted to wed a man who loved me, but I was wrong there also. I don’t need any man’s permission to do anything. I am considered a spinster, Ramsey.”

He shook his head, but Flora continued, “At my age, I should be wed with children. I’m not, and I see now that to my ex-fiancé, I would have simply been that and nothing more to him. A woman to give him children, like a farm animal.”

“No one thinks you’re a farm animal,” he snapped back at her, fire in his eyes .

“I would have been the mother to his children while he carried on having affairs. Well, I want to choose who I lie with, not have it chosen for me.”

“Flora, you have no idea what you’re saying.” She heard the frustration in his words, but she was past caring.

“Do you want to lie with me, Ramsey?”

His eyes suddenly looked wary.

“Yes or no—it is not a terribly difficult question.”

“Of course it’s a bloody difficult question! You are innocent; I am not. If we lie together, then I will?—”

“If you say marry me, then this conversation is over.” The words came out a low growl.

“It’s the truth. I cannot lie with an innocent and not expect your brother or a Nightingale to challenge me to a duel if I do not wed you.”

“Why do they need to know?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I respect and admire you very much, but?—”

“Stop.” She raised a hand, sick to her stomach because she’d truly believed he wanted her. But clearly it had just been a dalliance. A few kisses. Yet they’d shared so much between them in their short acquaintance, she’d believed he felt more for her.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I understand.” She hadn’t meant the words to come out defeated, but right then, she felt that. “You have suffered a shock this evening and need time to adjust to that. I will leave you.”

“What do you understand, Flora?” He grabbed her hand as she turned from him.

“It matters not. Good night.”

He turned her back into his arms. His hand then raised her chin until their eyes met. “It matters to me. ”

“I am not someone who inspires dalliance,” she said defiantly. He laughed in her face.

“Stop fighting me,” he said, shaking her gently as she tried to get away from him. “I want you very much, Flora. So much that I am fighting all my gentlemanly urges to let you leave here now.”

“You want me?”