Page 75 of Crash Landing
She sighed. “I hope you are wrong. Iprayyou are wrong, for the sake of all who are involved. Especially Lady Frampton.”
“Did she ask for your help in escaping her husband?”
“No.”
“Then do not meddle. It will only put her in greater danger.” Perhaps he was being rough on Florence, but he wanted an end to this nasty business, not have it extended. “Lady Frampton understood the risk when stealing the letters. She understood the risk when giving them back to you. She chose to help you, even knowing theconsequences to herself if she were caught. You both accepted the danger. What is done is done. You both went into this with your eyes wide open.”
Her chin was wobbling again.
He sighed, for Florence was obviously as overset as he was about this business.
“I’m sure she has contrived an escape plan for herself,” he said more gently. Florence was too softhearted for this line of work.
“Do you think so?” She regarded him hopefully.
“Yes, I am certain of it.” In truth, he did believe Lady Frampton had prepared for this eventuality. “Being married to Frampton cannot be easy for her. She may have devised a plan to leave him long before the letters became an issue. And do not forget, she was clever enough to steal them in the first place. And clever enough to pass them back to you.”
This heartened Florence. “That’s true.”
He grunted in agreement. “So, let’s worry about you. I want those letters out of your hands as fast as possible.”
“We could leave for London tonight. Within the hour, if you prefer,” Florence suggested.
“No, just be ready tomorrow morning. Traveling at night is never safe with all the highwaymen lying in wait to rob the unsuspecting citizenry.” He strode to Hermia’s side. “The doctor will be here shortly and expects to find an elderly woman recovering from a fit of vapors. I do not want him reporting back to Frampton that you are right as rain and he came upon you dancing a jig.”
Hermia nodded. “You make a valid point, dear boy. Let me scoot upstairs and change into my nightclothes. Have a posset brought up to me, and some tea and biscuits. Also, one of the maids should be sitting by my side looking worried. Do you have someone who can be trusted to lie convincingly to the doctor?”
“Right,” he muttered. “This is what my household has descendedto, liars and frauds.”
Hermia took herself off to prepare for the doctor’s visit. After a brief discussion of the next steps to be taken, particularly in the running of the Weymouth holdings in Trajan’s absence, the rest of them disbanded.
Florence returned to her bedchamber to pack her essentials for tomorrow’s journey.
He and his cousins retired to his study to review impending matters and decide which cousin was to take over whatever tasks that normally would have fallen upon Trajan were he still here. “Plan on these added duties for about ten days, perhaps a fortnight,” he told Andrew. “Delegate to your brothers as needed. I don’t think it will take us very long to hand over the letters and return to Gull Hall.”
Andrew nodded. “Will you marry Florence in London? Or wait until you return here?”
Trajan winced, for he had been giving thought to the matter and wanted Florence to have the protection of his name as soon as possible. “I don’t know that she would consider marrying me in London, since Hermia would not be there with her. Nor would I like to wed without you or my mother and sister present. But I don’t know that we have the luxury of waiting.”
“Do what you must,” Andrew said, “and that means getting her to the altar immediately. We can always have a family celebration afterward. After all, a party is a party, and we’ll happily overindulge no matter the reason.”
Trajan laughed. “Then we are all squared away?”
His cousins nodded.
Trajan was about to go upstairs to look in on Florence when Dr. Pritchard arrived. He escorted the earnest-looking man to Hermia’s bedchamber, not surprised when Florence darted out of her quarters with her worried mask in place and sat beside her aunt while the doctor examined her.
Knowing he was not needed, Trajan returned downstairs and strode into his library, no longer musty from being cleaned after the hot cocoa spillage. The carpet was still out for drying, but the rest of the room was basically restored.
He searched for a book to read while this latest charade was playing out upstairs. After choosing one, he settled in a soft leather chair and opened to the first chapter.
Well, heattemptedto read. It was impossible while his head was filled with thoughts of Florence and what had transpired today. Not to mention all the lies they had been spouting.
He was a fighter, and had done his military service without rancor or complaint. In battle, you knew your enemy, and the object was to shoot him before he shot you. He was not cut out for clandestine operations and the lies and subterfuge that went along with these assignments.
It rankled him to lie to the doctor. He knew it was necessary, because Frampton would be quizzing the man about Hermia’s condition, and his answers had to be genuine.
Trajan gave up on the first book he had grabbed and tried to read another, this time settling in with a brandy in hand.
