Chapter Five
As it turned out, not only did Trajan find fresh boot prints, but the window also had scratch marks around the latch to indicate someone had tried to break in.
Since Florence, Timmons, and the two footmen had come outside with him, the two footmen holding torches above their heads in order to shed light on the scene amid the darkness, they now deemed him exonerated.
He was relieved not to be thought of as a fiend who accosted innocent maidens for his own lurid ends.
“You are forgiven,” Florence muttered once they had all walked back inside.
“Shall we search for the trespasser, Your Grace?” one of the footmen asked.
“No. The man will be long gone by now, and I do not need him shooting any of you if you happen to stumble upon him in the darkness. Leave it until tomorrow and hopefully the hunting dogs will pick up his scent.”
Trajan suspected the man’s trail would lead them straight to Frampton’s home. If so, they were better off approaching in broad daylight. Frampton would not attempt anything when witnesses were around.
“I shall notify Mrs. Albright to wake her maids and have them clean up the mess in the library,” Timmons remarked.
“Yes, a good idea.” Trajan would have to replace the damaged furniture if the stains set in and could not be washed out. “Advise her to take Lady Florence’s gown to be cleaned once she changes out of it.”
“And your clothes too, Your Grace.”
He nodded absently. “Yes, I’ll go up and change now. But first, Edgar and I will search Lady Florence’s room to make certain her chamber is safe.”
“Is that really necessary?” Florence asked.
“Perhaps not, but why take any chances?” He motioned for one of the footmen, the reliable Edgar, to follow him, and then turned to Florence, casting her a pained glance. “We’ll walk you upstairs, but I want you to wait in the hall until we are done checking your room.”
“All right.” She appeared more worried than angry now. With good reason, for the fact that someone brandishing a pistol had been lurking outside the library window had to be as alarming to her as it was to him.
“Do you want one of the maids to remain in the room with you tonight?” he asked as they walked upstairs.
“No, I’ll manage on my own. I doubt the man will dare return tonight.”
Trajan nodded. “Edgar, do you think you can stay awake and take night watch? I’ll have Timmons assign three of you to the task for the next few nights. Who on the staff would you recommend to join you in patrol duty?”
“Herbert and Alvin, Your Grace. We often go hunting together. They can handle weapons and know how to listen for anything out of the ordinary.”
“Fine, let Timmons know I want you three put on night rotation.”
He and Edgar quickly searched Florence’s bedchamber and found it clear. Of course, Trajan did not think anyone had managed to get into the house and hide in her chamber. But one could not be too careful when dealing with Frampton and his ruffians.
For good measure, he conducted a thorough search of the house, checking it from top to bottom to make certain the doors and windows were secure.
Florence had changed into her nightclothes by the time he returned upstairs.
He noticed she had her door open, no doubt hoping to hear him as he marched down the hall.
He considered stopping in to bid her a good night, but had just decided against it when she came scurrying out. “Trajan, is all well?”
He cast her a wry smile. “Yes, all secure. You’re safe here, other than from me. I’m sorry I squashed you earlier.”
She gave a light laugh. “You only meant to protect me. I’m not angry now that I understand the reason. In fact, thank you. It was yet another brave and protective thing you did for me. I’m not used to such chivalrous treatment.”
He frowned. Wouldn’t her family do the same for her?
Perhaps not, if the hesitation when speaking of her brother or her parents earlier were any indication. But digging deeper into her family relations was something better left for tomorrow. She was tired, he could tell by the slight droop of her usually bright and sparkling eyes.
He was tired, too. He could not imagine what tomorrow would bring for them, but knew he had better be well rested for whatever might transpire. “Good night, Florence.”
“Good night, Trajan. I am sorry to be so much trouble for you.”
“You’re all right. I am not complaining. Get some rest.”
She shook her head and walked back into her room, shutting the door behind her.
He went into his own, tossed off his soiled clothes, and placed them in the hall for his valet to collect in the morning before collapsing naked onto his bed.
He’d jokingly said life would never be dull with Florence, but this was perhaps a little too much excitement for one day.
Good grief, had it only been a day? It felt like fifty. What would tomorrow bring?
More chaos, he suspected, because Frampton wanted Florence out of the way, and Florence, being Florence, had no intention of cooperating with that fiend. She wanted those letters.
How was he to keep her safe, especially if she persisted in her assignment?
He fell asleep contemplating the problem.
Sometimes, by sleeping on a matter, one could come up with a solution. Unfortunately, he had a blistering headache and still no answers come morning.
His valet was fussing about his bedchamber and had drawn the drapes aside by the time Trajan roused. He heard the quiet bong of the large clock in the hallway as it rang the eight o’clock hour. “Is that right, Reed?” he muttered, rubbing his temples as he sat up, certain he must have counted wrong.
“Yes, eight o’clock, Your Grace.”
This was much later than he usually remained abed, so he hastily tossed off his covers, donned the banyan that his valet had placed at the foot of his bed, and marched to the window to peer out onto a gray, dreary day.
A steady rain was falling and began to pour down in buckets as he watched, so he saw nothing of his usually splendid view, only these sheets of water.
“Doesn’t look like it will end soon,” Reed remarked.
Trajan nodded. This storm would likely last all day. Once the rain slowed to a drizzle, the mix of moisture and heat would leave his grounds blanketed in fog. It would take a strong wind to clear the clouds and dampness from the air any time soon.
This foul weather might rein in Florence’s desire to snoop, he realized.
However, it would also interfere with his ability to follow that lurker’s trail. No point in putting his dogs on the scent now. The downpour would have soaked into the soil and washed away all trace of that man by now.
“Shall I order your bath brought up, Your Grace?”
“Do you know if Lady Florence or her aunt are awake yet, Reed?”
“Miss Hermia has not stirred yet, Your Grace. But I believe Miss Florence has just gone downstairs.”
“Blast. Never mind the bath. No time for it. Set out my shaving gear and my clothes, nothing fashionable. Good work clothes will do.” He tossed off the banyan and poured water from his ewer into the basin.
Soap and a wet washcloth would serve just as well to scrub his body clean.
He slopped water about while hastily washing his hair, but Reed was ever efficient at mopping it up as the droplets fell.
He allowed Reed to shave him because he was already fretting about Florence being left on her own, and was going to carve his chin up if he rushed through the ritual to get himself downstairs faster.
It felt like an eternity but could not have been more than ten or fifteen minutes before he was groomed, dressed, and ready to join Florence at the breakfast table.
He left his valet to his tidying, and tore down the hall.
Perhaps he was worrying too much about Florence. What could she do in this inclement weather?
Still, she was a determined force of nature and he would not put it past her to leave the comfort of his home in order to spy on Frampton again.
He leaped down the stairs and raced past Timmons, who was dutifully at his post by the front door. “Morning,” Trajan called to his butler, and hurried into the dining room.
Florence looked up from the cup of tea she was about to put to her lips, and immediately set it down. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Why? Good morning, Florence,” he said, his manner casual although he felt as though he’d just run three miles over enemy terrain. “Did you sleep well?”
She smiled at him. “Yes, and you?”
Gad, how did such a little troublemaker manage to look so sweet and pretty in the morning? Vulnerable, too. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and assure her all would work out, that he’d keep her safe.
But he knew better than to think she was in any way frail and in need of his protection.
Well, she did need protecting, but mostly from herself because of her stubborn refusal to acknowledge the danger and keep away from Frampton.
She sighed. “Did you stay awake all night thinking up ways to keep me safe?”
“I might have done.” He went to the buffet and poured himself a cup of coffee before taking a seat at the table beside her. He noticed her plate was clean and empty. “Were you waiting for me to come down before having your breakfast?”
She nodded. “Yes, I thought it would be rude to start without you. Besides, I wasn’t very hungry. Yesterday’s adventures were a little upsetting.”
He laughed. “Only a little?”
“All right, a lot upsetting. But you needn’t worry about me. I—”
He growled softly.
Gad, when had he ever growled at a woman? But Florence was already infuriating him, and she hadn’t done anything other than smile at him.
“Trajan,” she said with a slight purse of her lips that now had him fixing his gaze on them and wishing to kiss her, “I am not going to go off and climb trees in this downpour. I cannot even pretend to bird-watch, since you tossed my binoculars into the undergrowth and Frampton now has them. Nor will I ask to borrow yours, since you are going to hit the ceiling and put a hole straight through it if I ever dare ask.”