Chapter Nine
“I need your opinion. I’m not sure what to do.”
Trajan pursed his lips as he sat beside Florence in a shaded arbor on the terrace, both of them sipping lemonade while she related in detail all that was said during her tea with Lady Frampton.
He was pleased she trusted him enough to confide in him, and this gave him reason to quietly cheer and put him in good humor, since the hot day and weight of his work had dampened his spirit.
It did not help that he had also worried about Florence the entire time.
He eased back in his chair and stretched his legs before him as a light breeze blew off the water, offering some relief from the sweltering heat.
But it was not nearly enough to cool him down after all those hours spent confined in the study with his cousins, his sleeves rolled up and his shirt collar unbuttoned.
He ought to have made himself more presentable.
But Florence did not seem to mind his informality, so he remained as he was and simply sat back in comfort. “So far, you’ve told me about embroidery and tea blends. What is the real heart of concern that has you seeking my opinion about Lady Frampton’s visit?”
She leaned forward, her voice softening to a whisper. “She said that she was going to give me some rose cuttings for your gardener.”
“So?”
“Then she whispered that she will have something else for me within the carton of cuttings. I think she was referring to those letters she stole from Lady Simmons. Oh, Trajan, now that I have met her, I am truly worried for her. I had not expected Lady Frampton to be as nice as she was. Well, I had no idea what to expect. It was awful of me not to give this any consideration at all until today. My mind was so fixed on my task, I did not regard her as a person with a heart or feelings, just someone to manipulate into giving me back those letters.”
“And now you think she is going to turn them over to you because of what she said?”
“It was more in the way she looked around furtively before she whispered in my ear, making certain that ogre of a watchdog did not overhear. Why take that precaution if it were not about those letters? Which leads to another problem.”
“What is this new concern?” he asked, although he was fairly certain he understood where this was going.
“If I am right and she does turn them over to me, then her husband is going to notice them missing and might blame her. What if he hurts her? How can I let this happen?”
“You cannot control every potential situation. It is quite possible he will never suspect her. After all, she did his bidding when stealing those letters. I only spent a few minutes greeting her, but she did not appear to be the sort ever to defy him.”
Florence let out a breath. “She seemed awfully sweet and kind in my opinion, too. But there must be a measure of spine in her, because that so-called maid watches her like a hawk. Why would he assign that humorless woman to his wife if he weren’t concerned about her loyalty?”
Trajan would have grinned at the remark if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation.
“Oh, I expect his concern was more about you. He had to be wary of the young lady he knows was spying on him from the shelter of the woods. He realizes you are too independent and likely to do something reckless, such as stealing back those letters.”
“How could he think I would when he does not know me at all?”
“His nature is to be distrustful, especially of pretty, green-eyed strangers who climb trees to peek into his home with their binoculars.”
“He cannot be sure it was me,” she grumbled.
“But that watchdog had her eyes on Lady Frampton as much as she had them on me. She was there mostly to keep tight control on his wife. I’m certain of it.
” Florence sighed. “I would suffocate if forced to live like that. Perhaps this is why she wants to help me. She would gain a measure of freedom for herself if he were brought to justice.”
“Florence, tread carefully. We have no idea what goes on between the Framptons. Do not read too much into her words.”
“How can I not? It is the whispers and furtive glances, you see. She must have heard her husband talking about those letters and knows he will try to stop me from getting them.”
He frowned. “So, now you are back on this mad quest to steal the letters?”
“I would be reclaiming them. It isn’t the same as stealing. But I don’t know what I should do. This is why I am trying to talk it through with you. I trust your judgment.”
He was pleased she thought highly enough of him to ask his opinion, even though he was not happy about this situation.
“I tried my best to avoid any mention of Lord Simmons or his wife, or politics, during the tea, but Hermia unwittingly brought up the latest affair Lady Simmons is having. You should have seen the look on that maid when their names were brought up. She is such a mean-looking thing.”
“Well, it is obvious she was not here as an amiable companion.”
“I’m sure she was listening in on everything we said and will report our conversations verbatim to Lord Frampton.”
“But you kept the conversations innocent, so what harm will be done when she does report to him?”
“None, I suppose.” She took a sip of her lemonade, staring into the glass a moment before she looked at him again. “But the fact remains, Lady Frampton might give me those letters, and now I must do something to protect her.”
Trajan’s tension had been increasing throughout their conversation because Florence was once again proposing to leap into danger, and this meant he would be dragged in, too. “You cannot save everyone.”
She cast him a big-eyed, defiant look. “Why not?”
This was what he loved about Florence—and why she also infuriated him. She felt a passionate need to do good. He expected that passion would also translate into enjoyment in the bedchamber, but right now it was going to lead her straight into danger.
How was he to protect her when she was determined to be everyone’s hero?
Could she not simply choose one, her brother or Lady Frampton, to save?
Let the other fend for himself or herself.
Saving Lady Frampton would be simplest, for all Florence would need to do was whisper a warning in her ear to do nothing about those letters.
There. Done. Nothing taken from Lord Frampton. No suspicion on Lady Frampton.
However, that would not save her brother.
Trajan knew Florence was not going to take that route because she so desperately wanted her family to take notice of her.
“Frampton’s wife is no thief,” she continued, and he could see the thoughts continuing to whirl in her agile brain.
“That her husband forced her to steal the letters does not sit well with her at all. I will ask her to tell me where he hid those letters, then I can create some sort of diversion to make it look as though I stole them while she had us over for tea.”
Trajan groaned. “So he can hunt you down and shoot you? Think again. I wish you hadn’t accepted her invitation. You could have held her off and then come up with an excuse to decline.”
“But I wanted to see her again, and she wanted the same, obviously. She’s so lonely and afraid.
How can I abandon her? Help me out here, Trajan.
She’s going to have the Frampton gardener prepare those rose cuttings and give them over to me when I see her on Thursday.
I am certain those letters will be hidden in there. ”
“Bloody blazes,” he muttered, knowing this could not possibly end well.
“Frampton has to be made to believe the letters she is going to hide in those cuttings were stolen by someone other than her.”
“Namely you?” He leaned forward, their faces closer. “No.”
She studied his expression, now confused. “What do you mean by ‘no’?”
“How is ‘no’ not clear enough for you? Her husband is already itching to shoot you, and I am not going to let you give him a reason. Besides, you are going about this all wrong.”
She perked. “How am I wrong? Oh, Trajan. Wait…have you come up with a brilliant idea? You have! I can see it in your eyes.”
“I don’t know how brilliant a plan it is, but I think it is better than anything else proposed.”
She inched forward to the edge of her chair. “All right, out with it. I am listening.”
“It isn’t a question of who to blame for the theft.”
She stared at him. “It isn’t?”
“No. What will keep you and Lady Frampton safe is his believing those letters have not been stolen at all.”
Her eyes widened. “A crime no one knows has been committed?”
“Precisely.”
“Trajan, that is genius! But how are we to pull it off?”
“I’m not sure yet. This is what you and I must work out.”
“Us? Together?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Truly, you are the smartest man I have ever met. It is such a delight talking things over with you.”
He groaned. “We haven’t worked out any details yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure we will, and it will be perfect and excellent because you are perfect and excellent. I think you are not only the smartest man in all of England but the handsomest, too.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Save your flattery for after we pull off this idiotic scheme. Gad, I cannot believe you are sucking me into this.”
She cast him a doe-eyed look of innocence.
“I want you to know right now how grateful I am to you. And it is not an idiotic scheme. It is brilliant. I happened to read a book like that once. The perfect murder. Everyone believed the victim had died of natural causes and the villain got away with the crime. He wound up with the money and the love interest, and they lived happily ever after. Utterly immoral, but fascinating reading. So, how do we get away with the theft?”
“Our first step is to duplicate that packet of letters.”
“Duplicate them?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, you are so very clever! I should have thought of this. What an idiot I am! But you are so logical and sensible.”