Chapter Eight
Yesterday’s rain was a thing of the past, and the sun shone brightly on Florence’s face as Mrs. Albright came in to draw aside the drapes. “Ah, are you just waking up, lamb?”
“This bed is most comfortable,” Florence said, stretching as she smiled. “I hardly did anything yesterday, and yet I slept as soundly as a log.”
The hour was eight o’clock, and she had asked to be awakened no later, since she wanted to join Trajan for breakfast—and perhaps they might take a walk together before he disappeared into the study with his cousins.
“Is His Grace up yet?”
“Oh my, yes. Several hours already. He likes to go for a ride in the morning before it gets too hot. He’s just back now and gone up to properly wash and dress. I’m sure he’ll be down to breakfast within the half-hour.”
“I’ll join him there.” She tossed off her covers and walked to the window to open it and peer out onto the day.
“Oh, I love the scent of the sea,” she said, inhaling.
“And there’s a lovely breeze today. Open the other windows, Mrs. Albright.
I can smell the roses, too. Light and lemony to mix with the salt of the sea. It’s simply wonderful.”
The housekeeper smiled at her. “I think you are meant to be duchess here. His Grace must have sensed it, too. He’s a clever fellow.
I did not think anyone could be smarter than the old duke, his granduncle.
But I think His Grace will be a match for him.
And you will be a perfect match for our new duke. ”
“Oh, I think I have quite a way to go before I prove myself worthy.”
“No, Lady Florence. You have already proven yourself to him and shown your fine qualities. This is why His Grace wishes to marry you. It is a love match and will bring much joy to this household.”
“That is very kind of you to say, Mrs. Albright. I would hate to disappoint His Grace.”
“You won’t, lamb.”
“Well, I will give him a fright if I come downstairs with my hair looking this wild. I may need help with it this morning.”
“I’ll send Jenny up to you. In fact, I’ll assign her to be your lady’s maid. She has a good sense of fashion.”
“Unlike myself,” Florence said with a light laugh. “I am truly hopeless when it comes to keeping up with the styles of the day.”
“That is because you have more than frivolities on your mind. Clothes may be important when making a first impression, but they will not mask a meanness of spirit. It is what one wears in one’s heart that matters.”
“Very well said, Mrs. Albright.” She liked this sensible woman who made the running of this house look easy, when Florence knew the task would have been too daunting for almost everyone else.
The housekeeper was organized, efficient, and, perhaps most important, very good at anticipating whatever might be needed.
Mrs. Albright soon left, and it was not long before a young maid with a cheerful countenance popped in. “Good morning, Lady Florence. I’m Jenny.”
“Good morning, Jenny. Your arrival is timely. I’ve just donned my gown and now I need my mop of hair done up properly.”
“I’ll do you up proper, never you worry,” she said with a merry smile.
The pleasant girl grabbed Florence’s hairbrush and began to comb out her hair. Florence sat patiently, eager to see how the hairstyle would turn out, for the girl seemed to know what she was doing.
“Here, have a look in the mirror,” Jenny said, turning her around.
Florence loved the elegant yet simple way Jenny had braided, twisted, and pinned back her hair, leaving a few soft curls to frame her face. “It is perfect. Thank you.”
Jenny beamed. “My pleasure. His Grace won’t be able to take his eyes off you at all today.”
Florence laughed. “Oh, I think he’ll manage. He still has a lot of work to get through with his cousins. I expect they will settle in the study again to slog through all the reports.”
Jenny nodded. “Yes, it will have to be his study, since the library will need another day or two of sunlight to dry everything out before being usable again. It still has a musty smell. Not very pleasant.”
Unfortunately, this meant Florence could not settle herself in one of the cozy library chairs and curl up there with a good book.
“Miss Florence, which gown should I set out for you for this afternoon’s tea?”
In truth, Florence had not given it much thought.
This was foolish of her, since she would need to dress elegantly to receive Lady Frampton.
Unfortunately, she had brought only a few suitable gowns for such an occasion, since she had mostly planned to hike, climb trees, and sneak into Lord Frampton’s home.
“This lavender silk will be perfect,” Jenny suggested, drawing it out of her wardrobe. “But it is slightly wrinkled. Let me take it downstairs for you and freshen it up.”
Florence thanked her and then made her way down to breakfast, suddenly wishing she had donned a prettier morning gown than this serviceable forest-green muslin that would blend in perfectly with the local foliage and make Trajan think she was going to climb trees again.
She had no intention of wandering far from the house today. Why would she risk another dangerous encounter when Lady Frampton was coming to her?
She was pleased to find only Trajan at the dining table when she arrived. He was nursing his coffee while he read the morning paper, but set it down with a smile and rose to greet her. “Good morning, Florence. Did you sleep well?”
Oh, he looked so handsome in his casual attire, buff breeches, a shirt of whitest lawn, and a waistcoat of meadow green, a shade darker than his eyes. He wore no cravat or jacket, since the day would be hot and he would be sequestered for hours in the study with his cousins.
She smiled back at him. “Yes, I slept quite comfortably. It looks to be a perfect day.”
He nodded. “There was a cool, dry breeze while I was out riding earlier. I didn’t think to ask if you wished to join me. Will you forgive me? I just assumed you would decline, since you never joined us on our morning rides during the Bromleigh house party.”
“Nothing to forgive. I’m not a very good rider,” she admitted. “I could never have kept up with you.”
“I wouldn’t require you to do so. I could have slowed down for you. It’s just a ride. I don’t need to tear across the countryside. I’d enjoy your company tomorrow, if you are of a mind to join me.”
She settled her in the chair beside his. “I would love to, but it will have to wait until my next visit. I haven’t brought along my riding attire.”
He cast her a wicked grin. “You could ride on my lap.”
She laughed. “Are you serious? That would certainly raise eyebrows.”
“Do you care?” His expression turned more sober. “I meant it when I said I was willing to marry you, Florence.”
Since the footmen usually assigned to attend them at breakfast had been on guard duty throughout the night, they were not around to pour coffee or tea. Florence delayed having to respond to his remark by pretending her throat was as dry as the Sahara sands.
She rose hurriedly to pour a cup of tea for herself. As she stood by the buffet, she realized Trajan had purposely neglected to assign footmen to replace Edgar and Alvin on breakfast duty. And she, so eager to see him again this morning, had fallen right into his trap.
They were alone.
This now gave him the golden opportunity to ask her more of the difficult questions she did not wish to answer.
The salvers atop the buffet were filled with ham, eggs, kippers, and other items she could only guess at by the pleasant aromas that wafted toward her. She delayed responding to him by pretending to peruse the salvers and beginning to pile a little of everything onto her plate.
Where were his cousins? Why had they not come down to breakfast yet?
When she sat down again, she dug into her food with voracious zeal as another means to delay responding.
He sat with arms folded across his chest while watching her. “What are you afraid of, Florence? Besides choking on your food if you do not stop shoveling it into your mouth as though demons are going to catch you if you do not swallow it down fast enough?”
“It is delicious, and I am famished.”
“You are avoiding having to talk to me. Never mind. Forget it.”
She was grateful that he did not press her for an answer, although he hadn’t really asked her anything in the form of a question. All he had done was make clear he was ready to marry her.
Was it not obvious she ached to marry him?
But how could she agree to it yet?
“Last night’s supper was incredibly good,” he said, folding up his paper and tossing it onto the empty chair beside his. “I wondered whether you would alter this morning’s breakfast menu.”
“I thought it better to take small steps and see if you liked the supper changes first, but I could mention it to Mrs. Palmer if there is something in particular you would like added to the morning fare.”
“No, I’m satisfied with what there is. You really did a wonderful job with supper last night.”
Warmth spread through her body, for she had not expected the sincerity of his compliment or ever expected any compliment at all. “Mrs. Palmer deserves the credit. I merely supervised the recipe.”
“I liked all the little touches you added to the dining table, too.”
“Truly? I did not think you had noticed.”
“You ought to know by now that I notice everything. However, I would not have complained if you had left things as they were. It meant a lot to me that you did make these small changes. It showed that you were thinking of me and you cared. Your improvements are turning this house into a home.”
She did care about him. Very much so, she realized.
And was it not an awful thing to care so deeply for him? How could she give her heart to him while she was in the midst of dealing with her most difficult assignment yet?