Page 44 of Crash Landing
He saw the surprise on Florence’s face when she heard him sing.
When the country lilt ended, he strode to the piano. “Play another one.”
She chose a Scottish ballad, one of those plaintive tunes where everyone dies because the Scots never backed down from a fight no matter the hopeless odds, and they were always fighting because their irreverent nature always got them into trouble.
A hush fell over the room, and Trajan did not think anyonebreathed while those dulcet notes sprang from Florence’s lips.
She had not been jesting when she said she could sing. No high-pitched, operatic singing, either—her voice had a simple purity and clarity. The voice of an angel.
The cousins cheered her with shouts of “brava” as they shot to their feet and clapped.
Trajan was already on his feet, but it took him a moment to join in because he was that impressed by her talent.
Florence took everyone’s compliments with humility.
“You were incredible,” he whispered, and then kissed her on the cheek.
But he was still unsettled. Florence had behaved herself all day, shown herself to be thoughtful in presenting them with a meal they would remember, and then regaled them with an excellent concert that proved she was remarkably talented.
And yet her parents ignored her. They had never shown her any love or approval.
The brief conversations he’d had with Hermia revealed there was nothing in Florence’s past that would have explained this.
If that were so, then the only explanation was the existence of an explosive family secret.
A girl with a heart so full of love should not have been shunned as Florence had been throughout her life.
What dark secret were her parents hiding from Florence?
Chapter Eight
Yesterday’s rain wasa thing of the past, and the sun shone brightly on Florence’s face as Mrs. Albright came in to draw aside the drapes. “Ah, are you just waking up, lamb?”
“This bed is most comfortable,” Florence said, stretching as she smiled. “I hardly did anything yesterday, and yet I slept as soundly as a log.”
The hour was eight o’clock, and she had asked to be awakened no later, since she wanted to join Trajan for breakfast—and perhaps they might take a walk together before he disappeared into the study with his cousins.
“Is His Grace up yet?”
“Oh my, yes. Several hours already. He likes to go for a ride in the morning before it gets too hot. He’s just back now and gone up to properly wash and dress. I’m sure he’ll be down to breakfast within the half-hour.”
“I’ll join him there.” She tossed off her covers and walked to the window to open it and peer out onto the day. “Oh, I love the scent of the sea,” she said, inhaling. “And there’s a lovely breeze today. Open the other windows, Mrs. Albright. I can smell the roses, too. Light and lemony to mix with the salt of the sea. It’s simply wonderful.”
The housekeeper smiled at her. “I think you are meant to be duchess here. His Grace must have sensed it, too. He’s a clever fellow. I did not think anyone could be smarter than the old duke, his granduncle.But I think His Grace will be a match for him. And you will be a perfect match for our new duke.”
“Oh, I think I have quite a way to go before I prove myself worthy.”
“No, Lady Florence. You have already proven yourself to him and shown your fine qualities. This is why His Grace wishes to marry you. It is a love match and will bring much joy to this household.”
“That is very kind of you to say, Mrs. Albright. I would hate to disappoint His Grace.”
“You won’t, lamb.”
“Well, I will give him a fright if I come downstairs with my hair looking this wild. I may need help with it this morning.”
“I’ll send Jenny up to you. In fact, I’ll assign her to be your lady’s maid. She has a good sense of fashion.”
“Unlike myself,” Florence said with a light laugh. “I am truly hopeless when it comes to keeping up with the styles of the day.”
