Page 12 of Crash Landing
The staid butler’s eyes widened, and he smiled. “Are you, Your Grace?”
“Yes.” He then properly introduced Florence to his ever-reliable servant.
“May I offer my congratulations to you and the young lady, Your Grace?”
“No, you may not…well, not yet. I need to write to my mother and sister to tell them the news. So please keep the matter quiet until they receive word.”
“As you wish,” Timmons said with a flicker of disappointment.
Florence suspected the secret would not be kept for much longer even if Timmons uttered not a word. The butler was never going to risk his position by leaping like a gazelle into the kitchen to report their betrothal to the other servants. He was obviously the reliable sort who would take a secret to the grave.
But would the other servants not notice she and Hermia had suddenly moved in? How was Trajan going to introduce them?
When she pointed out the obvious, he relented. “All right, Timmons. Let the staff know, and have them prepare rooms for Lady Florence and her aunt. They are going to stay with us for the next few days. Perhaps longer. Perhaps permanently,” he said, purposely goading her.
She cast him a smile that reeked of insincerity. “Or not.”
“Right, no firm plans yet. And we will need my carriage brought around. Lady Florence and her aunt are presently lodged in Weymouth. Utterly inconvenient. They need to move in here this very day.”
The butler sprinted off, delighted.
“I suppose you are right,” Trajan admitted once they were out of the butler’s earshot. “Frampton would immediately grow suspicious if my own servants had no idea you were my betrothed. We need to keep this ruse believable.”
“Yes,” she said, but this was going to be a problem for her afterward.
One that might be impossible to overcome.
How was she to break off her engagement to England’s most eligible bachelor without completely ruining her reputation once her assignment was accomplished?
Chapter Three
Florence quietly contemplatedher situation while seated in a shady spot on the terrace of Trajan’s grand house.Trajan.She liked his given name and had easily stopped thinking of him as Aubrey. He was now Trajan, named after one of the greatest Roman emperors, known for his intelligence and military prowess.
His betrothal scheme had saved her from Frampton, and she would not deny that she had been in a heap of trouble until Trajan’s kiss had rescued her. But undoing their betrothal would come with its own perils. Her already-tenuous relation with her parents might never be mended after this.
They would never forgive her for rejecting this perfect duke. Or any duke, for that matter. They would cut her off completely upon learning the extent of his wealth and power.
That he was also handsome and kind did not help. Even she would have thought herself deranged to walk away from their betrothal.
Well, her family had cut her off from their affection years ago. More recently, they had cut her off from her allowance, too. What else could they do to her?
She had never held their love, so there was nothing left to lose beyond the hope of repairing a relationship that had always been damaged and dangled on a very thin thread.
She stared across the lovely view of Trajan’s private cove, admiring its crystal-blue waters.
Trajan had kissed her on the beach in that cove.
She dared not tell him just how much she would treasure their kiss.
Unaware of her turmoil, he sat back comfortably in his chair and grinned. “Nice, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was.
“And can you believe the size of this house, Florence?”
His smile held such pride that she could not resist smiling back at him. “It is quite impressive, and also beautifully decorated. Surprisingly tasteful and welcoming, considering its enormity.”
She could manage a house of this importance, for her schooling had trained her for this very thing.
