Page 43 of Crash Landing
Andrew raised his glass of wine. “Three cheers for Florence!”
Everyone raised a glass and repeated the toast.
Florence’s eyes turned watery, but she quickly dabbed them with her table linen and smiled at all of them. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“Liked it?” Sebastian said. “I am going to dream of sheep tonight instead of the buxom maid at Crawley’s Tavern.”
“I know the one you mean,” Nathan replied, casting his brother a wicked grin.
“Gentlemen, there are ladies present,” Trajan reminded them, although he did not think Florence or her aunt were in the least offended.
It truly hurt his heart to watch Florence absorb their dinner conversation like a little sponge. A joyful sponge. He had always thought her pretty, but she seemed radiant now. Approval and compliments were all new to her.
His cousins had eaten so many servings, they needed to be rolled away from the table.
Night had fallen by the time they all moved to the parlor for after-dinner drinks. Trajan took a moment to speak to Edgar and Alvin, who had slept most of the day and come on duty for their usual attendance at supper. But now they would take night watch again, and Trajan wanted to make certain they had everything they needed.
“Aye, Your Grace. We’re set. Alvin and I will be guarding the house while Herbert patrols the grounds with Dodger,” Edgar said, referring to his best bloodhound. “He and Dodger are already on the task. Figured he’d start as soon as the shadows began to creep across the garden.”
“Wake me if you notice anything at all, even the smallest sense that anything is amiss.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” Edgar said, and left with Alvin to take up their guard posts.
Trajan joined the others in the parlor, still tense as he drank his port. But he knew his staff was up to the task of protecting Florence should Frampton decide to menace her again.
In all likelihood, Frampton only meant to have his ruffians show their faces from time to time as a reminder not to mess with him. After all, the man at Trajan’s study window last night could have gotten off a shot and lost no more than one or two seconds in fleeing.
But he had just fled. No shot fired. So, either the pistol had jammed and he could not fire, or Frampton had given orders to scare them and nothing more.
Those orders might change after tomorrow, especially if Florence learned something of interest from Lady Frampton during her afternoon tea.
Since his mind had been on Frampton’s next move and not the casual conversation going on between the ladies and his cousins, Trajan was surprised when everyone suddenly rose. “Where are you going?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? We’re going to the music room,” Andrew said. “Your lovely bride-to-be is about to give us a piano recital.”
“And sing for us,” Nathan cheerfully added.
Trajan groaned inwardly. This evening had gone smoothly, and he did not want it ruined by Florence’s bad singing or playing. Not that he would ever insult her, nor would his cousins. But they were already marveling over her mealtime triumph, so why not leave it at that?
His cousins already approved of her joining the Aubrey family in marriage. There was nothing more she needed to do to win them over.
Florence poked him lightly in the ribs. “You are frowning, Trajan. Do you have no faith in my musical talent?”
He grimaced. “I am sure I am going to love your recital.”
“Liar,” she said with a soft laugh. “You have convinced yourself that someone as independent and obstinate as myself would never bother to learn the feminine arts.”
Frankly, he did not care if she sang like a crow instead of a nightingale. He would be well satisfied so long as they were good together in bed, which they would be, because Florence had passion.
The only feminine art that concerned a man was the art of the bedroom. If a woman could please a man there, she would have him in the palm of her hand forever.
Florence, to his great relief, did not start her recital with one of those overly complicated and endlessly boring compositions that alternated between soft passages that had everyone straining their ears to hear, and loud, banging chords that had them stuffing handkerchiefs into their ears with all due haste. Instead, she led off with a lively country air that he and his cousins knew well because the song was popular in the taverns they frequented.
Not that he frequented such places all that often. But he and his cousins liked an entertaining night out whenever they got together. His cousins sang along with vigor.
Florence arched an eyebrow at him, an indication that he ought to join in.
Yes, he needed to get into the spirit of the evening. His voice wasn’t so bad, either.
