“Such as?”
“Will Lady Frampton have taken the original packet and hidden it in the cuttingsbeforethe tea starts? Or is she thinking to do itwhilethe tea is in progress?”
“Does it really matter? We just have to figure out how to plant the fake packet in her husband’s hiding spot before he notices they were ever gone.”
“He will have his guards on high alert and watching for anything suspicious. If he has even an inkling that something is going on, all hell will break loose. If he searches you, then you had better not have the originals or the fakes on you.”
“He would not dare search my person.”
Trajan raked a hand through his hair. “Are you serious? That man has no scruples. He will use physical force on you if he thinks you have thwarted him.”
“Are you sure about this? After all, I am betrothed to a duke and will not be shy about reminding him of it. That ought to give him pause.”
How could she be so clever and naïve at the same time?
“Let me be clear about this,” he said with a soft growl. “Atnotime are you ever to have those letters in your possession.”
“Not even the fake packet? But that is impossible. How am I to plant them, or give them to Lady Frampton to plant, if I don’t have them?”
“You arenotthe one to do it. You’ll have to rely on Hermia.”
“My aunt?” She stared at him in surprise. “But how? She is not nimble. She might not even remember what to do. What if she panics? Or simply forgets and says something she shouldn’t.”
Trajan did not think Hermia would falter. That dithering, dotty-aunt routine was just a façade, or so he hoped. But he was rarely wrong about the nature of people. Hermia may be slower in the gait, but she was as clever as Florence.
Gad.
Why did he have to be worrying about any of it? Florence had been ready to give up her mission until Lady Frampton and her whispered words put her right back on the scent.
“I mean it. You do it my way or I do not allow you to do anything at all.”
“But this is my investigation,” she said, sounding indignant.
“But you are my beloved.”
Oh, bloody hell.He had meant to saybetrothed, that she was hisbetrothed.
She stared at him open-mouthed. “Beloved?”
Why had he spilled his thoughts when it was the worst thing he could do to her at this moment? This was what Florence had always dreamed to be, someone adored and cherished. Loved and accepted. Appreciated instead of dismissed.
Beloved.
“Aren’t we supposed to be a love match?” He gave a shrug, trying not to make too much of his slip, since he was not ready to spout any love declarations yet.
She would run roughshod over his heart if she knew. And he needed to maintain tight control over this Frampton situation, rein her in for her own protection. She was too adventurous and fearless for her own good.
“And have I not already suggested we marry?” he muttered.
“Yes, because you insisted it was the only way to protect me.”
“That’s right, and we have stayed in character, you and I. We’ve done a good job of convincing everyone the betrothal is real. Is this not how you wished to keep things between us? Pretense. No commitments.”
“But you wanted more.”
“Because I thought we could turn this betrothal into something more. But you obviously are not ready. You needed time. You wanted time. I am giving it to you.”
He saw the light dim from her eyes as she said, “Yes, we agreed upon this.” She turned away a moment, let out a heavy breath, and then turned back to him after swallowing her disappointment. “We ought to have two identical fake packets.”
