Chapter Four #4
He laughed. “Unbelievable. Frampton is no gentleman blackmailer. First, he took shots at us, although he clearly meant them for you. Then he followed you to the Weymouth Inn. He has shown himself to be a most determined man. What do you not get about this?”
“He is a bit scary, I will admit. But why would he want to hurt me when he cannot be sure what I am after, or if I am after anything?”
“Because he thinks like a cornered animal and will do anything not to be caught. He did not coincidentally appear at the inn on a lark just as I was packing you up. He may not be certain what you are after, but he knows you are after something he has, and hell will freeze over before he willingly hands it over to you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you persisting?” Trajan sighed and shook his head. “He has to be worried you are digging around and getting too close to whatever illicit business he is conducting.”
“I am not happy to be doing this, but I cannot return to London without those letters.”
“You will be carried back dead if you do not stop this right now. You pose a threat to his entire operation, and men like that eliminate threats. Enough, Florence. You are a terrible liar and will never be able to talk your way out of danger if he traps you.”
She buried her face in her hands and nodded. “I understand. But how does this change anything? I cannot ignore this command from the Princess of Wales herself.”
“I’ll stand by you upon our return to London and make her see the impossibility of what she has asked you to do.”
“And if she doesn’t see it? Would you have me destroy your good name, too?”
“Do you think I care? I am not going to abandon you to the wolves.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You will have my protection for as long as you need it.”
She looked up at him, and he saw the anguish in her expression. “Thank you for being so wonderful to me, Trajan. I mean it sincerely.”
“Ah, then you are not trying to soften me up merely because I am useful to you?” he said with light teasing.
She managed a wobbly smile and a gentle laugh. “I would never do such a thing to you. But to be clear, you are proving to be more of an impediment than of use to me,” she teased back.
He supposed this was true, which was why he could not retain any anger toward Florence. She was caught up in circumstances beyond her control and doing her best to survive her assignment, while he was doing his best to keep her out of harm’s way and just have her survive.
“Please believe I am genuinely grateful to you,” she said. “Even if I am giving you a hard time about this.”
“Let’s figure out how to get you out of this mess. Anything else important for me to know?”
She blushed. “I have no idea what you mean.”
He sighed. This was going to take longer than he’d expected.
“Right, first the cocoa.” He moved from his chair to sit beside her on the settee because it was easier for him to pour the hot liquid into their cups, as well as fill their plates with the tarts and fruit set out on a small tray on the tea cart.
But that shadow by the window suddenly caught his eye again. He hadn’t imagined it.
Someone was lurking outside.
He set down the pot, rose, and had taken a step toward the window when he caught the glint of metal.
“Florence, get down!” He shoved her down and threw himself atop her, knocking over the tea cart and all its contents in the process.
The pot smashed, spilling cocoa all over the two of them, the settee, and the carpet. Then…nothing.
Silence.
Florence lay flat on her stomach, her face buried in the seat cushion while his big body lay atop her.
“That was close. Are you all right, Florence?” He eased up the slightest bit, and grunted as she elbowed him in the gut while turning around to face him. But this left the full length of his front facing the full length of hers for just that moment before he raised himself off her.
However, it was a moment too late, and this was how Timmons and the two footmen who raced in behind him found them…him still atop her.
“Dear heaven,” Timmons muttered, the sight of them halting him in his tracks.
Trajan knew there was no extracting himself from his and Florence’s betrothal now.
He rolled onto the floor and groaned, landing in more wet cocoa that had seeped into the carpet.
Timmons would not stop gaping at him. “Your Grace…I…I…”
Yes, the butler now believed him to be a maniacal fiend who could not keep his wicked paws off the innocent beauty. “This is not what it appears. I was protecting Lady Florence.”
“Kindly explain how landing atop me with your crushing weight protected me,” Florence remarked, now humiliated and probably seething with anger. She would have cracked the pot of cocoa over his head were it not already shattered and leaving a mess all over the floor.
“There was a man pointing a pistol at us just outside the window.”
“Really?” Florence sat up sharply, and a trail of cocoa seeped down the front of her gown. She ignored it and shot to her feet. “Then what are we doing just standing here and staring at each other? Let’s find him. There had better be fresh footprints by the window, or…”
“Or what?” Trajan asked.
“I shall shoot you myself,” she said with determination.
“Isn’t that a little harsh, Florence?”
“Maybe,” she grumbled in acknowledgment, “but my gown is ruined.”
“Which would you have preferred me to protect, the hot cocoa or you?”