Page 4 of A Scandalous Proposition
She clung a little more tightly, daring to rest her head against the major’s broad back to protect her face from a sharp wind. Briefly she wondered how it would feel to have such a man permanently acting as her champion. She’d not felt safe since coming to this country, and the burden of responsibility she bore for the welfare of others frequently wore her down. Major Fitzroy would be able to assuage her fears, of that she felt assured. He was the sort of gentleman who could achieve anything he set his mind to. She wasn’t sure how she could be so certain.
Somehow she just was.
Florentina sternly adjured herself to stop daydreaming and face up to reality. No one could help her. She had trusted a gentleman once before and look where that had landed her.
‘Oh, Rochester, why did you have to let me down now, of all times?’ The words were whipped away by the wind the moment they left her lips. The major couldn’t possibly overhear them. ‘I thought I was your friend. If you hadn’t cast a shoe then Major Fitzroy wouldn’t have stopped at the Feathersand I wouldn’t be in this mess.’
But then again, if he hadn’t been there, how would she have evaded Reynolds? What to do? Dare she trust Major Fitzroy with her secret? He had a reputation locally for integrity and a deep sense of honour. She’d made such a mull of things, and the temptation to lean upon him was compelling. Just for a moment, she gave way to it.
But then the consequences of such a foolhardy course of action struck home. She was riding astride, despite wearing a lady’s travelling attire. She lifted one hand from Major Fitzroy’s waist to cover her mouth, horrified at her momentary weakness. Her balance wasn’t all that it could be, what with the slippery mass of petticoats bunched beneath her derrière and her unfamiliarity with riding astride. Just as she felt herself slipping, a strong arm reached back and pulled her to safety before she got anywhere near Rochester’s flying hooves.
‘Hold on with both hands.’ He called the words over his shoulder, not slowing Rochester from a flat-out gallop. ‘Then you’ll be perfectly safe.’
‘Thank you, I’ll do that.’
Florentina’s breathing gradually returned to a more normal rate. She disciplined herself to direct her thoughts away from the feel of the major’s hand on her thigh and the very strange way it had affected her. Instead she concentrated on the matter that had almost caused her to come to grief in the first place.
She bit her lip, no nearer to deciding what to do about her situation when she became aware of Rochester’s pace slowing. Major Fitzroy walked his mount sedately down the main street in Oakley Common. Florentina felt secure enough to remove her arms from around his waist and reached a hand back to run it gently across Rochester’s sweaty quarters.
‘Well done, Rochester. You carried us both with ease.’
He glanced over his shoulder at her. ‘How did you know my horse’s name?’
‘Oh, I must have heard you say it a while back.’
‘Did you?’ Florentina could hear the surprise in Major Fitzroy’s voice and knew he didn’t believe her. ‘I don’t recall doing so.’
‘Nevertheless you must have, otherwise how would I know it?’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ He halted Rochester in the centre of town. ‘Now then, Mrs Smith, where would you like me to take you?’
‘To the vicarage, if it’s no trouble.’
‘None whatsoever.’ He encouraged Rochester forward with the gentle application of his legs on the stallion’s flanks.
Florentina’s destination actually lay in a very different direction but she didn’t intend to land herself in even more trouble by revealing her true port of call. She would attend to her business here as soon as she felt confident that Major Fitzroy was well clear of the town. She had a report to make. Then she’d worry about the major.
He brought Rochester to a halt at the gates to the vicarage. With athletic grace he swung his right leg forward over the horse’s neck and slid to the ground. He then reached up, placed both hands on Florentina’s waist and lifted her down. She was acutely aware of the searing warmth of his gloved hands through the fabric of her gown. Her face was briefly at the same level as his as he gently lowered her. She boldly met his gaze and held it, a strange sensation surging through her as he took far too long to place her on her feet and remove his hands from her waist.
It was twilight but she could see his features clearly enough to notice the intelligence in grey eyes that appeared to soften as he regarded her. There was a recent-looking scar above his left eyebrow but somehow it only added to his rugged allure. It filled Florentina with an impulsive desire to trace its length with her finger and make the hurt go away. She felt truly wretched for having lied to him, if only by omission. Her heart was fit to burst with the trouble she was causing.
‘Thank you, Major.’ She moved away when his hands finally released her. ‘I am much in your debt.’
‘You owe me nothing, ma’am.’ He raised the shako from his head. ‘It was a pleasure to be of service to you. I hope we shall meet again.’
Oh, Major Fitzroy, beware what you wish for.‘I hope so, too, sir, but I think it unlikely.’ She turned toward the vicarage as though she had every intention of entering that building. ‘I bid you good evening, sir.’
She concealed herself behind a stand of trees in the garden and waited. After five minutes, when the sound of Rochester’s hooves had long since faded, she swiftly headed back the way she’d just come. Her destination was Chamberleigh, a large establishment on the fringes of the town. Outwardly it appeared perfectly respectable but in actuality it was a bawdy house that catered for the needs of the well-heeled gentry in the area. The last place where one would expect to find a respectable widow of Florentina’s ilk.
She entered the house through a rear door and slipped unnoticed up the stairs. Mrs. Christine Seymour, keeper of this establishment, had her own suite of rooms on the top floor and would be anxious to know how things had gone in London.
‘Ah, Christine,’ she said, opening the door to her sitting room and being confronted by the back of her friend’s beautifully coiffured head. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. You’ve no idea how much trouble I?’
Only when it was too late did Florentina realise that Christine was holding a warning finger to her lips. Her gaze skimmed past her friend, and a small exclamation of terror escaped her as it came to rest upon the man seated in the chair opposite. His military tunic was half-unbuttoned, he had a large snifter of brandy in his hand, and his head was tilted to one side, as though he and Christine had just been laughing at some private joke.
Florentina felt the colour drain from her face and seriously doubted if her legs would be able to sustain her weight for very much longer. But she seemed incapable of doing anything other than stare at Major Fitzroy. A leaden weight kept her frozen to the spot, and all she could do was watch as his relaxed expression closed down and the amusement in his eyes was replaced by a cynical light.
‘Well, well, Mrs Smith.’ He didn’t bother to stand up. ‘So you were wrong, it would appear. We were destined to meet again after all, but I hadn’t imagined that it would be under circumstances such as these.’
