Chapter Seven
Trajan spent the rest of the rainy day closed in his study with his cousins, reviewing the Weymouth ducal holdings and determining who was to take on what responsibilities. However—and this was perhaps underhanded of him—he had Timmons report to him from time to time what Florence was doing.
He had phrased the request in terms of his wanting to make certain she was not bored while he was preoccupied with his cousins, but he really wanted to keep her under surveillance to make certain she would not sneak out and do something foolish.
To his surprise, Florence had not only stayed put at Gull Hall but seemed to have taken the initiative.
She walked through the house with his housekeeper and apparently took notes on the running of it.
Afterward, she ventured into the kitchen to compliment Mrs. Palmer for her cooking, and discussed the menus not only for tomorrow’s tea with Lady Frampton but for all the family meals for the week, starting with this evening’s supper.
Once done, she and her aunt, who was now up and about, had settled in the ladies’ parlor and spent their time embroidering.
“Egads,” Trajan muttered jovially after Timmons had given him this latest report and returned to his post. “Who knew she could actually behave like a duchess?”
His cousins laughed.
“Seems she has no end of talents,” Andrew remarked. “Now, all you have to do is make certain she does not come to harm retrieving those letters.”
“She is not entering that lion’s den for those letters,” Trajan said with a growl.
“How are you going to stop her? She seems determined.” Sebastian stretched his legs before him and tossed an arm casually atop the back of his chair. “I think she’ll do it. I would not wager against Florence.”
“Nor would I,” Nathan agreed.
Trajan shook his head. “Do not take the matter lightly. Frampton knows she is after something that he is not willing to turn over. How is she going to retrieve those letters without his knowing it and coming after her?”
“I don’t know,” Nathan admitted. “But I have every faith she will find a way. Do you think this will be her last assignment? Or is she going to accept more after you are married?”
“It would have to be her last if she married Trajan,” Sebastian mused.
“This assumes she will agree to marry me.” Trajan rubbed his neck in dismay. “I don’t know what she will do.”
“How can she not? Clearly, she is in love with you,” Andrew said, seeming surprised by his comment.
“She lights up like a fireworks display whenever she is near you. And surely she would stop her investigative work if you asked. Why would she take on more once she is a duchess? Would you even allow it?”
Trajan set aside the papers he was holding, leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands across the back of his head. “What makes you think Florence will ever listen to me?”
Nathan leaned forward. “But she’ll be your wife and must obey you.”
“Gad, how can you be so na?ve? You did graduate from university, did you not? So you must have learned something in all those years.”
“Apparently not enough about women,” Nathan grumbled. “Is it not in the marriage vows? Would she not promise to love, honor, and obey you?”
“I can guarantee you that obey will be stricken from her vow,” Trajan said with a wry smile. “Florence, to my endless frustration, is not the sort to bend a knee to anyone. If she cooperates, it is because she has a mind to do so, not because she is commanded to do so.”
Andrew frowned. “But that sounds awful. Should she not be a dutiful wife?”
“I just hope she is a sensible wife. I want her to think for herself, which Florence will do. Would any of you truly want a wife who will mindlessly do whatever you command? We are speaking of marriage here, not military duty.”
Andrew tossed him a wicked grin. “Well, it could be fun having an obedient wife in the bedroom.”
“Discussion of Florence and bedroom matters is off limits.” Trajan rolled his eyes. “I want an intelligent wife, one who will also take my feelings into consideration. In truth, I think Florence will…most of the time.”
“And if she does not?”
“Like now? Then I’ll protect her because it is my duty to keep her safe.”
“Are you sure you are not in love with her yet?” Nathan asked. “Because it sounds an awful lot like you are.”
Trajan did not bother to answer, but perhaps Nathan was right.
Was it not too soon to fall in love with Florence?
Considering how headstrong and determined to rush into danger she was, should this not give him pause?
Cast doubts? But he understood this need to prove herself to her family, even if he disagreed with the perils she was willing to face in order to accomplish it.
He also liked the fact that she needed him. He had saved her yesterday, actually saved a living soul, and he felt rather good about it, especially since the one he had rescued was Florence.
Trajan put a halt to further discussion of Florence, since his cousins seemed to have taken to her like frogs to a lily pad and were quite fascinated by her. He did not want them encouraging her to pursue Frampton.
When Sebastian suggested they place wagers on whether or not she would succeed in retrieving the letters, Trajan threatened to toss them out of Gull Hall if they persisted.
“Sorry,” Sebastian muttered.
“No more talk of Florence. And no wagers. There’s already a betting book on me, and that is quite enough.” Trajan waited for them all to nod before he renewed their discussion of family business affairs. “Andrew, you seem to have a knack for management.”
Trajan assigned him to run the port of Weymouth warehouses that stored spirits, lace, and tea brought in from France, although the tea originated from China and traveled through Holland before reaching English shores.
“Sebastian will help you until he must return to university,” Trajan said.
“It will be no easy task. There’ll be pilfering by the haulers and carters, not to mention the revenue officers cannot be trusted.
They’ll have their hands out, and we’ll have to give them something if we want our cargo kept safe. ”
“What’s my task?” Nathan asked.
“You’ll be in charge of the Dorset farms and dairy. The old duke,” Trajan said, referring to their granduncle, “hired a good manager to run the farms, but the man is getting on in years and I don’t think he will be up to the task much longer. He’ll train you.”
“What will you handle, Trajan?” Sebastian asked.
“The Lothmere properties that will now be absorbed into the ducal holdings. The banking and investments, the contracts for products we’ll import for resale in England, the pottery works, the brewery. Basically everything else in addition to attending Parliament when it is in session.”
His cousins were to share in the profits, for he wanted them to have a vested interest in the business enterprises. They would become wealthy men if the Weymouth holdings remained profitable.
He had assigned Sebastian to help out Andrew, but meant to use him as a roving manager, someone reliable to help him out or Nathan whenever there was a need. Right now, the most urgent need was those warehouses.
The rain stopped by suppertime and the sun came out for the few hours remaining before nightfall. He and his cousins had done a solid day’s work and would resume tomorrow, for there remained the stud farm, the financial investments, and the London properties to discuss.
He made clear all final decisions would be his, and his cousins voiced no objections.
After all, not only was he the eldest among them, but he had run the Lothmere properties for several years before his father passed, and these ducal properties for several months, even though he had only inherited the title a short while ago.
None of the cousins had his experience.
Still, Trajan wanted their opinions regarding these holdings.
Even if he did not always take their advice, it was good practice for them to learn how to analyze what new businesses to acquire, if any, which of the less profitable assets to sell off, and how to respond to unexpected setbacks with efficiency.
“Lord, I’m stiff,” Andrew muttered, arching his back and groaning.
The others agreed and similarly stretched their muscles. So did Trajan, no doubt having a few more aching joints than his younger cousins.
Sitting at a desk for long hours was something he would have to get used to, because he would be inundated with reports and other matters that needed his attention on a daily basis.
Perhaps it was a good thing Florence had not leaped at the chance to marry him. Nor had she rejected him, so that was something. He knew she held him in deep affection, for she would have refused his proposal outright if she felt there was no chance for them.
But he had also noticed the way she looked at him and never hesitated to place her hand in his, as though craving his touch.
Also, she respected his advice, even if she had no intention of following it.
Perhaps she was falling in love with him.
He had to admit, it warmed his heart.
However, he would have little time for Florence over these next few months while he mastered his role as the new duke. For someone who had spent a lifetime ignored by her family, this could be a difficult thing for her.
Did she not deserve an attentive husband? This was what he wanted to be for her.
More important, he needed to be this for her, because he did not want her feeling their marriage had been a mistake…assuming there would ever be a marriage.
He still did not understand why he felt so comfortable with the notion of Florence as his wife. But both his mind and his heart were telling him this was right, so who was he to disagree?
“I’m famished,” Sebastian remarked.
Nathan nodded. “Me too. What’s for supper? Any idea, Trajan?”
Trajan shrugged. “No, but Mrs. Palmer is a good cook. Whatever it is will be delicious. I think Florence planned the menu.”