Page 63 of Crash Landing
Hermia sighed. “Stop being so stubborn, child. Nor do we need to argue about it when we have no idea if there will be a problem with the stationery. We are getting ahead of ourselves.”
They engaged in trivial conversation for the remainder of the journey and made it to Weymouth by late morning. There were several stationery shops in Weymouth, but they started with the one the old duke had used for his personal letterhead.
“Your Grace, it is an honor,” the owner said, rushing out to greet Trajan. “How may I be of service?”
Trajan and the Newton ladies kept the shopkeeper on his toes for the next hour, poring over samples and surreptitiously comparing Florence’s sample to those brought out until they found the exact match.
Trajan then ordered personal letterheads for Florence and her aunt, as well as calling cards for the three of them.
He was pleased when Florence made no fuss about it, for he thought it meant she would accept to marry him and assume the role of his duchess.
She had not outright confirmed this to him yet, but Florence was also thrifty by nature, and he could not see her agreeing to the extravagance of stationery she would never use.
She cast him an endearing smile as the shopkeeper totaled their purchases. It saddened him a little that this had started as a fake courtship between them.
There had been no romantic moments for Florence. He had swept her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly that first time to preventFrampton from killing her. Kissing her in the arbor yesterday also had to do with plots against Frampton.
There had been no instant in time when his kisses had been forheralone. They had merely slipped into a betrothal in furtherance of the plots and intrigues swirling around them.
It would have to do. They would create memorable moments after they married, hopefully none that would end with one or both of them shot dead or seriously bloodied.
“I’ll take some of this parchment stock to tide me over until the embossed letterhead arrives,” Trajan said, glad to have this part of the plan successfully concluded.
The ladies walked next door to the haberdasher’s establishment and had found the ribbon’s exact match by the time Trajan finished settling accounts for the stationery and joined them. With the ribbon purchase also successfully concluded, it left them free to enjoy the rest of the day and the surprisingly pleasant weather.
Since Hermia was tiring, they decided to stop for lunch at the Weymouth Inn and dineal fresco, because there was a soft breeze off the water and the day was sunny and dry.
Florence seemed to blossom as the day passed.
Perhaps it was merely his falling deeper in love with her. She could be quite captivating when being her natural self, and sparkled whenever she laughed.
He was pleased to see her happiness shine through, even if only for the span of their afternoon sojourn.
He did not think she had been happy in a very long time.
He also learned she could be quite charming when she put her mind to it. In truth, she had it in her to be an impressive duchess.
“Hermia, do you mind if I take Florence for a short walk along the harbor?”
“Not at all, dear boy. I shall be quite content to linger over my cup of tea. I—” Hermia suddenly tensed.
He frowned. “What is it?”
“Lady Frampton’s prison guard is here.”
Trajan let out a breath. “Yes, I know. She has been following us since we left the haberdasher’s and stopped for lunch here at the Weymouth Inn.”
Florence pursed her lips. “Do you think she saw us at the stationery shop?”
“No, I had my eye out. No one followed us there.”
She let out a breath. “You really are remarkable, you know.”
He chuckled. “I like to think so. Come on, walk with me. You will excuse us, won’t you, Hermia?”
“Yes, dear boy. I am perfectly comfortable here.”
He and Florence left the inn.
