Chapter Thirteen
Trajan’s hands were shaking because he was so rattled by Florence’s sojourn into the Frampton home.
He had been watching through his binoculars and seen Hermia take that dive onto the tea cart, which had conveniently landed atop Rutledge the Ogre, and seen Florence’s aunt flailing atop that pile like an overturned turtle.
He’d almost fallen out of his perch in the tree in his rush to climb down, for that had been his cue to get the pair of Newtons out of there fast.
Gad, this was such an ugly business. He hated Florence being involved in any of it. He did not know which was worse, that she was involved in it or that she was not afraid to be involved.
“May we talk? Are you still seething?” she asked once they reached Gull Hall.
He ignored the question, helped both ladies out of the carriage, and ordered them into his study. His cousins, too. He must have sounded harsher than he realized barking out orders, because they all rushed in without a word of protest.
Could they blame him for being livid? He was still overset and his head felt as though it was about to explode.
He must have looked like a savage beast, for Florence’s eyes were wide and her chin began to wobble. “Have you decided you do not wish to marry me?”
He turned to her, startled.
The idea of ending their betrothal had not even occurred to him. Perhaps she thought she had given him reason because what she had done had been reckless and foolish.
But it was also very brave. He loved her all the more for it. She was never going to be a timid mouse of a wife.
He was overset because he was the one who should have taken on the risk for her. He should have figured out a way to grab those letters and be the one placed in danger.
Instead, he had allowed her to march into the lion’s den armed with nothing but a maiden aunt and an embroidery basket. He had done nothing to protect her.
He had yet to ask if she had succeeded in reclaiming those letters.
Had she?
Yes, she must have.
Florence was incredible, and she had now saved her brother.
For all the good it would do her, he thought morosely.
“I haven’t changed my mind, Florence. We are betrothed, if you still wish it. We will marry, if you accept to have me as your husband.”
She nodded, her expression showing her relief.
And now it would be up to him to accompany her to London and make certain her royal benefactor did not renege on the bargain.
Angry as he was about this entire affair, he would never allow anyone, not even the Princess of Wales, to cheat Florence. She had poured her heart into this assignment and risked her life for her worthless brother and a pair of cheating lovers.
Was this worth placing her life in danger? He doubted anything would change within her family and how they treated her. Nor would Lady Simmons reform her ways and stop taking on lovers.
Florence withdrew her handkerchief to dab at her tears. “Thank you. I do wish to marry you and gratefully accept you with all my heart. Are you positively sure you want me?”
“Yes, love,” he said, his voice achingly gentle because he knew how fragile Florence was at the moment. “I’m sure. Never a doubt.”
“Then this is finally real?” Andrew asked, smiling.
Florence glanced at Trajan uncertainly.
“Yes,” he said, taking hold of her hand and leaning in to give her a soft kiss on the lips, “it’s real.”
The tears now streamed openly down Florence’s face, but she was smiling, too.
His cousins cheered.
Trajan asked her the question she was most eager to answer. “Did you get the letters?”
“Yes! Hermia and Sylvia were brilliant. They played their roles to the hilt.”
“You were bravest, my dear,” Hermia said, casting Florence a doting smile.
“I could not have succeeded without the two of you. But I’m so worried about Sylvia. There is no telling what Frampton will do to her if he suspects her complicity in any way.”
“He won’t,” Hermia assured her niece. “He does not even realize anything has been stolen. We have just pulled off the perfect crime, to which we owe our undying gratitude to you, Weymouth, for coming up with the brilliant idea.”
“Yes, undying,” Florence repeated, casting him a doting smile. “Your plan has kept us all alive, including Sylvia. She is safe for the moment, and hopefully for always.”
She turned to his cousins, also smiling at them. “Sebastian, your embroidery basket idea was very clever, too.”
The cousins burst into grins and laughter. Nathan and Andrew patted their younger brother on the back and ruffled his hair. “You are not so dumb after all,” Andrew teased.
“But you ladies were the ones who carried it off brilliantly,” Nathan remarked.
By their wide, hyena-like smiles, Trajan expected the lads were half in love with Florence themselves, and quite in awe of both Newton ladies.
Florence moved over to sit beside her aunt. “Hermia! Your gown is soaking wet. I did not realize so much of the tea had spilled onto you in the tumble, and—”
“Gad, Hermia! Why did you not mention it?” Trajan silently berated himself for being too busy behaving like an angry beast to notice her discomfort. He had not even given a thought to her gown being wet.
But of course it was. She had purposely knocked over that tea cart and spilled tea everywhere. Her gown happened to be a tea color, so he hadn’t even thought… Blast, where was his mind?
Hermia remained quite calm and did not appear at all put out. “No, dear boy. It is nothing. This discussion is far more important.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “It can wait. I’ll ring for a maid to—”
“No, Weymouth. Let’s finish this first,” Hermia insisted. “Florence needs to unload those letters as soon as possible.”
“What’s the plan?” Andrew asked.
“Do you have one?” Nathan added.
“Of course he does,” Sebastian said. “He is always thinking two steps ahead.”
“Not always,” Trajan muttered, but he had given this eventuality considerable thought. “Andrew, I am leaving you in charge of Gull Hall in my absence. Florence and I will leave for London just before dawn tomorrow.”
“What of my aunt?” Florence asked.
“Hermia stays here,” he said, turning back to the aunt in question. “We have to move fast. As brilliant as you were today, I don’t think you will be able to keep up. My cousins will look after you. Is that all right?”
“Of course, dear boy. I never expected to travel with you to London. I am in no fit condition. I shall be fine right here.”
“Not fit?” He grinned. “You are an acrobatic marvel, Hermia.”
She winked at him. “I was rather limber in my younger days.”
The saucy comment went completely over Florence’s head, but this further warmed Trajan’s heart toward her. She was so innocent when it came to men.
Her mind was already lost in thoughts of their escape. “Oh, then you and I will be traveling alone.”
“Yes, it cannot be helped. You need to get those letters to London and in the hands of the Princess of Wales as fast as possible. We cannot travel with an entourage. Where are the letters?”
“I have them hidden in the secret pocket of my gown.”
Trajan arched an eyebrow in surprise. “There’s a secret pocket even in that pretty gown? Well done. I never would have guessed.”
“And he’s been looking closely,” Sebastian said with a snicker that earned him a frown from Trajan and a knock on the head from Andrew.
“Dolt,” Andrew muttered.
Florence clasped her hands together. “Um, I would need a moment of privacy to withdraw them.”
Nathan cast her a leering grin. “I would offer to assist, but I think Trajan would bite my head off if I dared.”
“Bloody right, I would. Andrew, give Nathan a knock on the head, too.”
“Gladly. Dolt,” Andrew muttered again, this time aimed at Nathan.
Trajan crossed to the window to peer out of it. “Florence, leave it hidden in your gown for now. Do you have secret pockets in any of the other gowns you plan to bring along?”
“All of them,” she admitted. “They are quite useful.”
“Of course,” he mumbled, but the notion amused him. This was such a typical Florence thing to do. But this was her, eccentric and also very clever.
However, he did not dwell on all the things he liked about her. He was still on edge, and could not shake off the feeling that something bad was about to happen. Perhaps because their plan had gone off so smoothly.
He continued to stare out the window.
“What has you so engrossed?” Florence asked. “Surely Frampton is at home gloating over what he believes is my failed attempt. He has no idea I have the letters.”
Trajan turned back to her and frowned. “Do you not understand the nature of this beast? He isn’t finished with you. He’s a bloody bastard—pardon the profanity.”
Nathan frowned. “Do you think he will do something out of sheer malice? Even though he believes those letters are still in his possession? Shouldn’t he be satisfied that he won? Well, thinks he won.”
Sebastian was also frowning. “Perhaps he will simply gloat and open a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”
“He may do that, but it will not be the only thing he does. He is vindictive by nature,” Trajan said.
“Would he be so foolish? He knows I will soon be your duchess,” Florence remarked. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Trajan arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t he?”
She sighed. “I hope you are wrong. I pray you are wrong, for the sake of all who are involved. Especially Lady Frampton.”
“Did she ask for your help in escaping her husband?”
“No.”
“Then do not meddle. It will only put her in greater danger.” Perhaps he was being rough on Florence, but he wanted an end to this nasty business, not have it extended.
“Lady Frampton understood the risk when stealing the letters. She understood the risk when giving them back to you. She chose to help you, even knowing the consequences to herself if she were caught. You both accepted the danger. What is done is done. You both went into this with your eyes wide open.”
Her chin was wobbling again.
He sighed, for Florence was obviously as overset as he was about this business.