Page 66 of Crash Landing
Florence smiled. “I love when you make these marvelously apish comments.”
“Because you are mine to protect. By extension, so is your aunt.”
Hermia was seated opposite them in the carriage. Florence was seated beside Trajan, finding she needed the comfort of his touch to maintain her resolve. She also simply loved snuggling against him, for his shoulders were broad and muscled, and his scent was divine. Lather, citrus and sandalwood, and male heat. “You needn’t worry about us. Aunt Hermia and I are all set in our plan. Right, Auntie?”
Her aunt snuffled and opened her eyes, for she appeared to have nodded off despite their having just undertaken the journey.
Oh dear.This did not inspire confidence. The entire ride would take no more than ten minutes, and they could not have been in the carriage more than two of those minutes.
“What, dear?”
“This is what worries me,” Trajan mumbled. “I wish I could be there with you.”
“You are the one who wanted to give Aunt Hermia a larger role,” Florence said with exasperation. “I fear she was so excited about participating, she did not sleep a wink last night. I should have handled this on my own.”
“Nonsense, child,” her aunt intoned, proving she was not hard of hearing. Yet another thing she feigned from time to time, especially when asked a question she did not wish to answer, or engage in a conversation with a dullard she wished to escape.
Truly, Hermia had honed her dithering and doddering to a fine art.
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “You just worry about yourself.”
Trajan took Florence’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “My cousins and I will remain as close as possible. I’ll be watching you through my binoculars from a vantage point in the woods.”
“The tree that I fell out of?”
His lips twitched. “No, but close to it. Let’s hope Frampton leaves the parlor drapes open.”
“Aunt Hermia or I will insist on having them drawn open if they are not. Oh, we’re almost there. Wish us luck.”
He was back to frowning at her again. “I’m wishing for your safe return, Florence. Do not do anything foolish.”
“I won’t.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
“I promise.” She kissed him on the cheek, to which he responded with a soft growl to warn her that he wasn’t happy, and no amount of cajoling on her part would make this undertaking right.
“Just remember to save yourself and Hermia if things go awry. Lady Frampton will have to manage for herself.”
But what if that ogre of a maid tried to hurt her mistress?
Well, Florence would do what she could to save all three of them—and grab the letters, too. Of course, the entire point was to get out of there alive. She would keep her plan flexible and adjust it as necessary.
Lady Frampton was standing on the front steps of the imposing manor house, smiling and waving to them as their carriage drew up under the portico. Her husband was standing beside her, looking quite grim.
Trajan hopped out as soon as the carriage drew to a halt. A Frampton footman hurried forward to assist him in helping Hermia down, because she gave a masterful performance of an old lady struggling to maintain her footing.
Trajan insisted on attending to Florence himself. “Be careful,” he whispered, as though she required yet another warning.
“I love you,” she answered back, surprising him and herself.
“Gad, what a time to tell me this.”
“I know, but I do. Truly and sincerely. With all my heart.”
She wanted him to know her feelings on the chance that things went horribly wrong and she would never see him again. Perhaps this was not the best time to dump this confession on him, but was it not worse to say nothing at all and leave him uncertain?
Not that he ought to have any doubt when she gushed and turned moon-eyed whenever she was with him.
