Page 52 of Crash Landing
He was pleased she thought highly enough of him to ask his opinion, even though he was not happy about this situation.
“I tried my best to avoid any mention of Lord Simmons or his wife, or politics, during the tea, but Hermia unwittingly brought up the latest affair Lady Simmons is having. You should have seen the look on that maid when their names were brought up. She is such a mean-looking thing.”
“Well, it is obvious she was not here as an amiable companion.”
“I’m sure she was listening in on everything we said and will report our conversationsverbatimto Lord Frampton.”
“But you kept the conversations innocent, so what harm will be done when she does report to him?”
“None, I suppose.” She took a sip of her lemonade, staring into the glass a moment before she looked at him again. “But the fact remains, Lady Frampton might give me those letters, and now I must do something to protect her.”
Trajan’s tension had been increasing throughout their conversation because Florence was once again proposing to leap into danger, and this meant he would be dragged in, too. “You cannot save everyone.”
She cast him a big-eyed, defiant look. “Why not?”
This was what he loved about Florence—and why she also infuriated him. She felt a passionate need to do good. He expected that passion would also translate into enjoyment in the bedchamber, but right now it was going to lead her straight into danger.
How was he to protect her when she was determined to be everyone’s hero? Could she not simply choose one, her brother or Lady Frampton, to save? Let the other fend for himself or herself. Saving Lady Frampton would be simplest, for all Florence would need to do was whisper a warning in her ear to do nothing about those letters. There. Done. Nothing taken from Lord Frampton. No suspicion on Lady Frampton.
However, that would not save her brother.
Trajan knew Florence was not going to take that route because she so desperately wanted her family to take notice of her.
“Frampton’s wife is no thief,” she continued, and he could see the thoughts continuing to whirl in her agile brain. “That her husband forced her to steal the letters does not sit well with her at all. I will ask her to tell me where he hid those letters, then I can create some sort of diversion to make it look as though I stole them while she had us over for tea.”
Trajan groaned. “So he can hunt you down and shoot you? Thinkagain. I wish you hadn’t accepted her invitation. You could have held her off and then come up with an excuse to decline.”
“But I wanted to see her again, and she wanted the same, obviously. She’s so lonely and afraid. How can I abandon her? Help me out here, Trajan. She’s going to have the Frampton gardener prepare those rose cuttings and give them over to me when I see her on Thursday. I am certain those letters will be hidden in there.”
“Bloody blazes,” he muttered, knowing this could not possibly end well.
“Frampton has to be made to believe the letters she is going to hide in those cuttings were stolen by someone other than her.”
“Namely you?” He leaned forward, their faces closer. “No.”
She studied his expression, now confused. “What do you mean by ‘no’?”
“How is ‘no’ not clear enough for you? Her husband is already itching to shoot you, and I am not going to let you give him a reason. Besides, you are going about this all wrong.”
She perked. “How am I wrong? Oh, Trajan. Wait…have you come up with a brilliant idea? You have! I can see it in your eyes.”
“I don’t know how brilliant a plan it is, but I think it is better than anything else proposed.”
She inched forward to the edge of her chair. “All right, out with it. I am listening.”
“It isn’t a question of who to blame for the theft.”
She stared at him. “It isn’t?”
“No. What will keep you and Lady Frampton safe is his believing those letters have not been stolen at all.”
Her eyes widened. “A crime no one knows has been committed?”
“Precisely.”
“Trajan, that is genius! But how are we to pull it off?”
“I’m not sure yet. This is what you and I must work out.”
