Page 6 of Crash Landing
Well, medieval warriors, perhaps.
Although warriors were generally built like hefty blocks of granite, while Aubrey was tall and elegant, cutting quite the imposing figure when dressed in formal attire.
Lord Frampton and his cohorts were staring at them from atop the stairs.
“Weymouth, do we get a turn next?” Frampton called out in jest, and started down the steps toward them with a hunting rifle in hand. His lackeys, also carrying weapons, followed him down.
Florence’s heart beat faster. She hoped he’d meant the remark as a jest.
She moved closer to Aubrey, who had kept an arm protectively around her. “It’ll be all right,” he whispered. “Don’t be scared.”
But she was, and could not stop her heart from pounding through her chest as these unpleasant men drew closer.
Frampton’s companions had the look of London ruffians, the vile sort who roamed the London docks at night and would just as soon slit your throat as beg your pardon. They were staring at her too avidly.
Trajan Aubrey—well, she really ought to start thinking of him as Weymouth, since he was now the duke—kept tight hold of her. “Let me do the talking, Florence.”
“Fine.” At this moment, she could not string two words together.
She took several deep breaths to calm herself. The two of them had to keep their wits about them if they were to fool these ugly fellows.
“I hope you are carrying a pistol,” she muttered, wishing she had some sort of weapon hidden on her person that she could whip out to defend herself with.
Aubrey nodded. “I have several on me, but they won’t be needed. I promise.”
She let out a shaky breath, not nearly as confident as he was. “Do not make promises you cannot keep. Those scoundrels do not look nice at all.”
“Yes, rough fellows,” he agreed. “They’re probably his guards. Frampton is ruthless and must have made many enemies on his climb to the top of the social ladder, many who would like nothing better than to do him in.”
As she watched them, Florence questioned her sanity in agreeing to take on this particular assignment. But she’d really had no choice.
She would be forever indebted to Aubrey if he got them out of this scrape.
He glanced at her, no doubt to make certain she was not going to faint.
She wasn’t. However, her knees were knocking and her heart was still pounding too hard.
“Be brave for me, Florence,” he whispered. “I won’t let any of those men touch you.”
Frampton and his four lackeys were now upon them.
Florence glared back at these men who were eyeing her with shocking disrespect.
Do not show fear.
Nevershow fear.
“Weymouth, I was going to ask if you had seen anyone running past you recently,” Frampton said, all the while leering at her, “but it is obvious you were otherwise occupied.”
The other men chuckled.
“You happened to catch me and Lady Florence in a special moment,” Aubrey admitted, sounding surprisingly calm, even joyful. “She has just agreed to become my wife.”
What?
Florence tried to hide her panic.
Was this his harebrained scheme to keep her safe?
