Chapter Nine #2
“Stop with the flattery, Florence. I’m helping you, aren’t I? I do not need more coaxing.”
“It isn’t coaxing. May I not be honest with you and express my complete and utter admiration of your abilities?”
Were the choice left to him, he would appreciate her enthusiasm more in the bedchamber. Remarks in awe of his powers of seduction would be welcomed.
Ooh, Trajan. My big, strong stallion.
He cleared his throat, for this was neither the time nor place for those wayward thoughts. “Lady Simmons gave you a good description of those letters, did she not? I don’t mean what was in them, but what the packet looked like. Size, color of parchment, how they were bound.”
“Yes!” she said with obvious pride. “I insisted she provide me detailed specifications. After all, it would be disastrous if I retrieved the wrong packet. For this reason, I insisted on actual samples of the parchment used and the silk ribbon with which she tied the letters.”
“You have those?”
She nodded.
Gad, she was an efficient little thing. Quite organized and resourceful.
“Well done. Now we’ll know exactly what we must look for. It was clever of you to demand those samples.”
“Thank you.” Her smile was beaming. “Despite what you think, I am good at what I do. But you have taken this a brilliant step further.”
He gave her pert nose a light tweak. “Do not get too excited about this plan. It won’t be easy to pull it off. However, first thing tomorrow, we are going to take a trip into Weymouth.”
“To find a match for the parchment and ribbon?”
He nodded. “As the new duke, it is expected that I should have my own stationery made up. Calling cards, too.”
She smiled at him. “Absolutely.”
He leaned forward and took her hand. “Since you are to be my wife, we’ll need to order some for you, as well. And perhaps acquire some for Hermia. Then this besotted duke is going to purchase some pretty ribbons for his soon-to-be wife and her aunt.”
“And no suspicions raised because every new duke requires his own letter paper.” Florence cast him another smile that was bright as a beacon.
“Trajan, I shall say it again—you are the cleverest man I have ever met. Oh, I wish I had thought of this first. But no matter, it is a most promising plan, and you deserve all the credit for it.”
“These are just the first small steps,” he cautioned her.
“We should be able to find the exact parchment and ribbon we need. I think this will be the easiest part of the plan.”
“I hope we can, or we are finished before ever having started.”
“We will find the perfect match. I’ll bring along my samples,” she said with confidence. “In truth, we only need to find close enough matches to fool Lord Frampton’s eye. But finding the exact match is best.”
“Assuming we do find what we need, the next step is to duplicate the look of those purloined letters. Do you have any idea how many letters that lovelorn idiot sent?”
“Eight letters in all. I questioned Lady Simmons on this because even one letter left behind would be damaging and entirely defeat the purpose of my work.”
“You’ll have to write something in each fake letter before we bundle them up. Frampton might notice if they were left entirely blank,” he suggested.
“Hermia and I can attend to this.”
“Good, but the hardest part comes next. Lady Frampton must somehow switch these fakes with the originals.”
“Or I can do it, assuming she will tell me where he kept them hidden.”
“Oh, gad. Florence, that is out of the question. No.”
“But her surly maid will be watching her too closely.”
“And you think that woman will not notice you suddenly disappearing for twenty minutes? Or others on his staff won’t notice you popping your head into every room? Do you think he is just going to leave those letters sitting atop his desk?”
“No, I know he has them securely hidden.”
“Bloody right,” Trajan muttered. “He’ll have them under lock and key, or in a guarded safe. Even if the safe is unguarded, you wouldn’t be able to open it without the combination. Do you think he will leave those numbers conveniently written down for you to find?”
“Of course not. But if I cannot do it, then who will make the switch?”
“Lady Frampton is the one who must take the risk.”
“While I create a distraction?”
“I am certain you are quite proficient in that,” he teased. “You are the most distracting young lady I have ever met.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
He shook his head. “Frankly, I don’t know.
But the point is, no one must ever realize the switch has taken place.
I think Lady Frampton must know the combination to the safe, assuming the letters are hidden there.
Or she will have the key to any locked drawer or strong box.
How else would she be confident enough to get them to you in that carton of cuttings? ”
“True.”
“So, she has to be the one to switch those letters. She will be safe enough because no one will think twice if they see her in any particular room of her own house.”
She nodded.
“And one more thing, Florence.”
“Yes?”
“Before you undertake anything, you must be sure that gift she has hidden within the rose cuttings is that packet of letters and not some damn tin of biscuits.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. She looked so pretty while listening to him with rapt attention. While he hated her involvement in this affair, he very much liked this rapport they had with each other.
“Ugh. It won’t be a tin of biscuits. The greater concern is keeping Lord Frampton from opening any of the fake letters, or he will know at once they have been switched.”
“I don’t think this is in his nature. He’ll see the letters wrapped in pink ribbon and leave it at that. He may not realize he has been duped for days, weeks. Even months from now. Perhaps never.”
“Because we have pulled off the perfect crime,” she said in a reverent whisper.
Bloody blazes.
Could this possibly work?
He hated this entire business, but Florence was going to do this with or without him. Better that she do it with him.
“I shall howl at the moon with joy if we can pull it off,” she said, now smirking. “And won’t he be surprised when the Princess of Wales and her allies slam him to the ground and threaten him for all his misdeeds? Hah! I’m sure he will not like that turnabout at all.”
Trajan lolled his head back and sighed. “Do not get ahead of yourself. There are so many variables to be considered.”
“Such as?”
“Will Lady Frampton have taken the original packet and hidden it in the cuttings before the tea starts? Or is she thinking to do it while the tea is in progress?”
“Does it really matter? We just have to figure out how to plant the fake packet in her husband’s hiding spot before he notices they were ever gone.”
“He will have his guards on high alert and watching for anything suspicious. If he has even an inkling that something is going on, all hell will break loose. If he searches you, then you had better not have the originals or the fakes on you.”
“He would not dare search my person.”
Trajan raked a hand through his hair. “Are you serious? That man has no scruples. He will use physical force on you if he thinks you have thwarted him.”
“Are you sure about this? After all, I am betrothed to a duke and will not be shy about reminding him of it. That ought to give him pause.”
How could she be so clever and na?ve at the same time?
“Let me be clear about this,” he said with a soft growl. “At no time are you ever to have those letters in your possession.”
“Not even the fake packet? But that is impossible. How am I to plant them, or give them to Lady Frampton to plant, if I don’t have them?”
“You are not the one to do it. You’ll have to rely on Hermia.”
“My aunt?” She stared at him in surprise. “But how? She is not nimble. She might not even remember what to do. What if she panics? Or simply forgets and says something she shouldn’t.”
Trajan did not think Hermia would falter. That dithering, dotty-aunt routine was just a facade, or so he hoped. But he was rarely wrong about the nature of people. Hermia may be slower in the gait, but she was as clever as Florence.
Gad.
Why did he have to be worrying about any of it? Florence had been ready to give up her mission until Lady Frampton and her whispered words put her right back on the scent.
“I mean it. You do it my way or I do not allow you to do anything at all.”
“But this is my investigation,” she said, sounding indignant.
“But you are my beloved.”
Oh, bloody hell. He had meant to say betrothed, that she was his betrothed.
She stared at him open-mouthed. “Beloved?”
Why had he spilled his thoughts when it was the worst thing he could do to her at this moment? This was what Florence had always dreamed to be, someone adored and cherished. Loved and accepted. Appreciated instead of dismissed.
Beloved.
“Aren’t we supposed to be a love match?” He gave a shrug, trying not to make too much of his slip, since he was not ready to spout any love declarations yet.
She would run roughshod over his heart if she knew. And he needed to maintain tight control over this Frampton situation, rein her in for her own protection. She was too adventurous and fearless for her own good.
“And have I not already suggested we marry?” he muttered.
“Yes, because you insisted it was the only way to protect me.”
“That’s right, and we have stayed in character, you and I. We’ve done a good job of convincing everyone the betrothal is real. Is this not how you wished to keep things between us? Pretense. No commitments.”
“But you wanted more.”
“Because I thought we could turn this betrothal into something more. But you obviously are not ready. You needed time. You wanted time. I am giving it to you.”
He saw the light dim from her eyes as she said, “Yes, we agreed upon this.” She turned away a moment, let out a heavy breath, and then turned back to him after swallowing her disappointment. “We ought to have two identical fake packets.”
Ah, she was back to the task. Obviously still hurt, but she was the one not ready to commit to marriage.
She could change it all with a word. He wasn’t going to do it for her. She had to take this first step on her own.
This was cruel of him, perhaps. He could have just told her that he loved her. It might have changed things for her.
Or just bogged down matters without solving anything.
“Two packets? Why?” he asked.
“It is always good form to have a spare. But if you think I am going to involve Hermia without being certain she can handle the responsibility, then you can forget your idea.”
“She can handle it. I think she is a master at distraction and creating illusions. She even has you fooled, hasn’t she?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see. It is time we let Hermia in on all that has been going on.”
Florence cast him a worried look. “Must we tell her everything?”
“Yes. What you are doing is dangerous. She cannot walk into the lion’s den and not know the lion is watching you both and waiting to pounce. But I’ll do my best to protect you.”
“How? You cannot join us for tea.”
“I can peer into the parlor, can I not? Weren’t you doing just that when I found you stuck in the tree? Although you had your binoculars trained on his bedchamber. Did you think the letters were in there?”
“It was a possibility, but I believe he has them in a safe in his study.”
“Perhaps Lady Frampton can confirm this.”
She nodded. “I’ll try to get as much information out of her as I can.”
“Be careful when you do. Her ogress maid will be listening in. Take no risks.”
“So you’ve told me at least three times during this conversation.”
“Because what you are doing is risky, and I honestly hate this, Florence. How can I make you stop?”
“You cannot, so do not bother to try. But can you imagine if after all our plots and contortions, all Lady Frampton ever thought to give me in those rose cuttings was a tin of biscuits?”
“Hilarious,” he said with obvious sarcasm.
“Perhaps I’ll have Mrs. Palmer bake some biscuits and bring a tin of them to Lady Frampton.”
“Now you are just riling me.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist. All right. No more teasing you. Just business. Do you know that you look irresistibly attractive when you are serious, and even more so when you are irate and frowning?”
“Florence…”
She sighed. “The duplicate packets. An ingenious switch. And Aunt Hermia to create a distraction if one proves necessary. Satisfied?”
He glanced up at the heavens. “Let’s pray this plan works.”
She had leaned forward again and was now practically tipping out of her chair. “You are so very clever, Trajan. I cannot thank you enough for all you are doing for me.”
Blessed saints. “Enough with the compliments. I will not be happy about this, no matter how much you think to soften me up.”
She would not think he was so smart if he got her killed.
He pointed to her empty glass. “Care for another lemonade?”
“Yes, I would love one,” she said, smiling at him. “Shall we toast to our success?”
Gad, she was going to be the death of him.
He poured another for each of them, and then drained his lemonade in two gulps and set the glass down on the table. “Florence…”
“This will work,” she insisted. “Frampton will never suspect the letters have been taken.”
“Let’s hope, because he will come after you with a vengeance if this plan goes awry.”
“That’s a risk I am willing to take,” she said with resolve.
“But one I am not. I’ll see him burn in hell if he ever tries to harm you.” He drew her onto his lap and placed his arms around her because he needed to hold on to her and inhale the light lavender scent of her skin.
He ached to protect her.
“Why did you pull me onto your lap?” But she did not seem to mind, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just behaving like a protective arse.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I like those protective instincts of yours. Even if I am not your beloved.”
Ah, his remark still hurt.
“You could be in time,” he said, sincerely wishing to repair the damage. “But you are a lot to handle at the moment.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. It’s just these rotten circumstances.”
“Yes, they are quite awful. I do not mean to be so difficult, but my heart really is in pieces, and I need to heal it as best as I can.”
“By saving your brother?”
Her eyes began to tear.
“Don’t, love. Don’t cry.” Because his heart was defenseless against her vulnerability, and she was incredibly vulnerable right now.
“I can’t help it.” She pressed against him.
He felt a shiver run through her, so he wrapped her more securely in his arms. “Florence, love. Look at me.”
“Why?” But she did look up and gaze into his eyes.
“This might help,” he whispered, and crushed his mouth down on her pert lips, for who knew what tomorrow would bring?