Chapter Eight #3
After breakfast, Trajan delayed his meeting with his cousins for thirty minutes in order to spend a little time with her. They merely took a stroll through the garden, but he took her hand in his as they walked along, the gesture more intimate than walking arm in arm, and more proprietary.
It was a quiet but unmistakable statement that she was meant to be his.
But he wasn’t demanding any decisions from her, merely showing her what they might have as husband and wife if she were to accept his proposal.
She would, in time.
Florence spent the rest of the morning in the ladies’ parlor with her aunt, who was now dressed and had come downstairs to continue her embroidery while Florence read a book.
After a light midday meal, they retired to their bedchambers to prepare for tea with Lady Frampton.
Jenny came in to assist Florence in donning the lavender gown and freshening her hairstyle. Looking at her reflection in the mirror afterward, she thought she looked very much as a new duchess ought to look.
Was this how Trajan saw her?
When she returned to the parlor, she saw that Mrs. Albright had set out their tea service beautifully.
The best china and silverware were used for this occasion, and the table had a lovely lace tablecloth with matching lace table linens.
Tarts, cakes, and buttered breads, some with cucumbers and some without, were just being brought in on tiered dishes that were also of the finest porcelain.
“Thank you, Mrs. Albright. It is a lovely display.”
The housekeeper smiled and nodded. “One of the footmen will serve the tea once Lady Frampton arrives.”
Trajan and his cousins stepped out of his study when Timmons informed them that a carriage was approaching. Florence happened to step out of the ladies’ parlor at the same time, eager for what this afternoon visit would reveal.
Sebastian whistled at her. The others grinned.
Trajan bowed over her hand. “You look lovely, Florence. These lighter colors become you.”
“The bees would attack me if I ever dared go bird watching in these softer colors,” she said, blushing as she glanced at her lavender gown. “They would mistake me for a flower and…” She meant to add “and pollinate me,” but that sounded too lewd, so she said, “and sting me.”
Lady Frampton descended her carriage followed by her maid, who looked quite a surly thing, while her mistress was all smiles.
Florence was not certain what she had expected Frampton’s wife to look like, but it certainly was not this delicate woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties and had the kindest eyes and warmest smile for her.
Her maid was completely the opposite in character—cold, hard, and seeming to be in charge even as she took a position in the corner of the room as any subservient companion would.
Some maids had the ability to blend into the furniture and be forgotten, but not this one.
There was such a disquieting hardness about her that immediately caught Florence’s attention and held it throughout.
She had no doubt Lady Frampton’s companion was more of a guard rather than a servant or companion, which meant every word spoken would be reported to Lord Frampton.
For this reason, Florence was glad when Aunt Hermia took the lead in their conversation, which resulted in a twenty-minute discussion of embroidery patterns and which shops sold the best threads and yarns that left Florence numbingly bored and probably did the same to the maid watchdog.
That boring conversation was followed by another one, a yawn-inducing discussion on the various teas available in England, which London shops carried the best ones, and which were their favorite blends.
Only after the topic of tea varieties had been wrung dry did they move on to discussing the latest ton scandals.
The maid’s ears instantly perked.
Having been made to see sense by Trajan, Florence was going to give up this love-letters quest. She meant to steer the conversation away from any mention of Lady Simmons or government leaders, but her aunt inadvertently brought up the very thing she had hoped to avoid.
“I hear Lady Simmons has taken on a new lover,” Aunt Hermia said with gossiping glee. “Poor Lord Simmons. I wonder whether her antics will cost him politically.”
Lady Frampton paled. “Oh? I hadn’t heard. In truth, I pay little attention to political intrigues. It seems such a dirty business.”
“I agree, quite low and dirty. Nor do I care for it,” Florence said. “But I am curious to learn more about the upcoming crop of debutantes. I hear the Earl of Mowbry’s daughter is quite the beauty.”
Lady Frampton let out a breath and smiled. “Oh, yes. She is quite pretty, and kindhearted, too. Those traits rarely go together in one of her station. Beauty often seems to walk hand in hand with vanity, don’t you think?”
Florence nodded. “Yes. Too often these girls are taught that their good looks will grant them all the entitlements one can offer. There is never any stress on independent thinking or consideration of the feelings of others.”
Lady Frampton set down her teacup and took Florence’s hands in hers.
“I think we are of one mind, Lady Florence. I am so looking forward to your marrying the Duke of Weymouth and settling here permanently. We shall become fast friends, I think. Would you and your aunt be available this Thursday? I would love to have you over for tea at my home.”
Florence ought to have refused, for after this morning’s conversation with Trajan about the dangers of involving Lady Frampton in her intrigue, she had decided to drop the matter of retrieving those letters.
But this was about a desperately lonely woman reaching out for friendship, and she understood this feeling quite well. Having been raised unloved, she could not leave Lady Frampton stranded. “We would love it. Is that not so, Aunt Hermia?”
They spent the remaining time with Florence taking Lady Frampton on a tour of Gull Hall’s main rooms, ending with a brief sojourn into Trajan’s study, where he and his cousins were hard at work. The men set their papers aside to engage them for several minutes before resuming their tasks.
Next, it was on to the garden for a quick turn about the flower beds.
It turned out Lady Frampton was an avid gardener and had cultivated some prize roses.
“I hope to enter my cinnabar rose in next year’s flower competition at the Weymouth Fair.
Most fairgoers are drawn to the pie competitions, and the local farmers love the hog competitions, but we have a small circle of horticultural enthusiasts in Weymouth, and it would be quite an honor to win the garden award for the best rose. ”
“Does your husband share your love of flowers?” Florence asked.
“Him?” Lady Frampton gave a curt laugh. “He would sooner tread on them.”
“Oh, I see. But do tell me more about your rose cuttings. I would love to have some for Gull Hall’s garden.”
The afternoon turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Florence sincerely liked Lady Frampton.
They addressed each other by their given names when it came time to say farewell.
“The afternoon was delightful,” Lady Frampton said before climbing into her waiting carriage.
“I’ll set aside some of those flower cuttings we spoke about and give them to you when I see you on Thursday, Florence.
Thank you again for a lovely afternoon.”
“My pleasure, Sylvia. I look forward to seeing you and learning more about your prize flowers.”
As Florence bussed Lady Frampton’s cheek, the lady whispered, “And there’ll be a little something extra for you within the carton of cuttings. I dare not say more.”
Florence smiled and moved away as though nothing had been said, but her heart was beating frantically.
Was Frampton’s wife referring to those love letters taken from Lady Simmons?
There were hugs and cheeks bussed all around, for Hermia was not to be excluded. The icy maid took it all in without the glimmer of a smile.
Florence and Hermia stood on the front steps waving goodbye until the Frampton carriage was out of sight. Hermia tucked her arm in Florence’s as they made their way back into the house. “That is one sad and lonely woman.”
Florence nodded. “I wonder if she has any family close by. I ought to have asked.”
Hermia nodded. “Nor did I think to ask, but we can pursue that conversation on Thursday. Perhaps once we are settled here, we can form an embroidery circle. Invite ladies from local leading families to join us once a week for tea and stitches.”
Florence’s heart warmed. “Yes, that is a wonderful idea. Does this mean you would stay on with me if I married the Duke of Weymouth?”
“If?” Hermia frowned. “Is there a possibility you wouldn’t marry that gorgeous man?”
“Well, we’ve made no firm plans yet. No wedding date set. He may decide he does not want to marry me.”
“Nonsense, child.” Hermia paused as they were about to enter the house. “I have never seen two people look at each other with so much love in their eyes.”
“Oh, Aunt Hermia. No, that cannot be right.”
“Why?”
“We hardly know each other.”
“Have you not known him an entire year?”
Florence nodded. “Yes, but…” She could not reveal the extent of their farce. “How can anyone know for certain how suitable one is for another until they live together day in and day out for an extended period of time? Weather all seasons? Stand together through hardships and joys?”
“Florence, sometimes you think too much about things,” Hermia said with a shake of her head that made the fat curls about her ears bob and sway. “All I am saying is that you and Weymouth are off to a very strong start. You each have moonlight in your eyes when you look at each other.”
“All right, I will accept that.”
Florence walked in smiling and eager to talk to Trajan about Lady Frampton’s visit.
When Hermia went up to her bedchamber, Florence decided to knock at the study door. She only meant to ask him when might be a good time for them to chat, but he surprised her by setting aside his work and dismissing his cousins. “We’ve done enough. Go off and enjoy what remains of the day.”
His cousins cheered and immediately decided to ride to Weymouth.
“Don’t wait up for us,” Nathan said, tossing Trajan a wicked grin.
“Stay out of trouble,” he shot back as they thundered off with all the grace of a herd of rampaging elephants.
Florence laughed.
Trajan shrugged his shoulders. “Looks like it is just you and me now.”
“Do you mind?”
“No. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” He came around to her side. “Care for a lemonade on the terrace?”
“I’d love it. A lemonade and a chat?”
He nodded. “Yes, I am eager to hear how your tea with Lady Frampton went. You look as though you are leaping out of your skin to tell me.”
Florence nodded. “I am.”
“Oh, hell. She told you something, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And you are going to do something about it, aren’t you?”
Florence nodded again.
How could she not when Lady Frampton was taking this big risk upon herself?