“Well, get inside with you, then,” Mungo said, ignoring his brother’s needling.
Benjamin climbed down, and Calder up. The lad then resettled on the seat, wedging Mungo’s brother between them. He felt like he was seated next to a stranger, when he’d known the man since birth. But they knew nothing about each other now—neither the man Calder had become, nor the one Mungo was these days.
Bram herded the others inside the carriage with the efficiency of a general. There was grumbling and squeaking springs and Alex complaining about someone’s elbow in his ribs. Ellen insisted on having the window cracked an inch “for air,” which had Leo groaning theatrically as the cold seeped in.
Mungo heard Gray telling them all to shut up.
When the door shut, he set the horses moving with a gentle flick of the reins. The wheels crunched as they rolled forward.
“Wait!”
He stopped again, teeth grinding, and the carriage door flew open. Out vaulted Alex, nearly landing on his backside on the slick step.
“For the love of—” Mungo began.
Alex sprinted back to the house, scarf trailing. This could happen two or three times on an outing and was something that, along with all the other things the Nightingales did, Mungo had learned to live with.
“Hat!” Ellen called from the doorway
“They seem good people, even if I don’t understand whatthey are,” Calder said quietly beside him, watching the commotion with an odd little smile.
“They are good people who can do amazing things,” Mungo said, because whatever else this place was, it was home, and he loved its inhabitants and would protect them with his life.
“You’ve been with them long?” Calder asked.
His sigh was silent. He’d wanted a peaceful drive through London to get his head on straight and find a way to handle his attraction to Eliza, but no, his brother was now seated beside him and asking questions. Mungo couldn’t deny him, seeing as he was suffering, and they were, whether he liked it or not, bound together by blood and by Fenella.
Benjamin was looking to his left, giving the appearance of not listening, which they both knew was untrue. Not that it mattered, as there were no secrets in Crabbett Close.
“When I left Scotland, I traveled to London and worked for a while,” he said, eyes on the road ahead as Alex darted back out, hat jammed crookedly on his head. “I then booked a passage to India, and it was on the ship that I met Bram. We’ve been together ever since.”
The horses tossed their heads, breath steaming in the air as Mungo eased them forward a fraction, impatient to be gone.
“I tried to find you,” Calder said.
The words surprised Mungo. He’d not thought anyone had come looking for him. His mother would have, but she’d never disobey her husband, and it had been he who told Mungo to leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Icame to London, as that was where you told Mother you were heading. I searched but did not find you,” Calder said when Mungo remained silent. His fingers tightening on the reins until the leather creaked.
“I did not want to be found,” he conceded. The words felt thick in his mouth.
He’d been young and fueled with rage at the injustice of his father’s words. As he’d aged, he’d known some of that had simply been his father’s way, but what was done was done. He couldn’t turn back the clock.
“Aye, I worked that out,” Calder said.
Mungo directed the carriage slowly around the first bend of the close, as the locals got upset if he went too fast. It was as he was approaching Ram’s house that he noted the gaggle of people. One of them detached and waved at him.
The horses snorted, unhappy at yet another stop.
“What’s amiss, Mrs. Varney?” Mungo demanded as Mr. Douglas, Clemmie Acton, and Tabitha moved to flank her.
“I made toffee and was handing it out to the residents,” Clemmie said holding up a tin as evidence.
Benjamin lunged for a piece.
“And you needed all of them to assist you?” Mungo asked.
