Page 49 of The Botanist’s Improper Bride

They hustled inside, shaking the moisture from their dresses. The butler showed them into a small drawing room, then retreated to fetch Lady Wembley.

When the countess entered, her head was cocked curiously. “I can’t help feeling that you aren’t really here to call upon me.”

Since Lady Wembley didn’t look upset by the subterfuge, Seraphina replied honestly. “I’d like to talk to Trevor, but it isn’t seemly for a woman to call upon a gentleman, so I hoped you might help us bridge the gap.”

“I’m willing to do most things to ensure Trevor marries,” Lady Wembley said with laughter in her eyes. “Wait here. He had a previous caller, and I’m not sure whether he’s still busy.”

She whisked past them, out into the corridor.

Seraphina leaned close to Letitia. “Who do you think would call on him so early in the day?”

Letitia’s eyes narrowed, and she stroked her chin thoughtfully. “If your father was kept better abreast of gossip, I would assume it was him, but considering he was in his office when we left, I don’t know.”

“It had better not be that weasel, Emerson.” Seraphina was prepared to do the man bodily harm if the fiasco at the ball yesterday hadn’t been enough to satisfy his thirst for vengeance. “The world would be a better place if not for spiteful men with sensitive egos.”

“I don’t disagree with you.”

Lady Wembley breezed back into the room, her hands clasped in front of her. “Trevor and Lord Sylvestor are in the parlor. Will you join them, or would you prefer to wait until Trevor can see you privately? Well, as privately as an unmarried couple can be together.”

Seraphina relaxed, relieved to hear who Trevor’s other guest was. The baron must have heard what happened and come by to show his support. “We’re happy to join him and the baron, as long as they don’t mind the interruption.”

“Not at all. Come this way.”

Letitia and Seraphina followed Lady Wembley into the parlor, where a small fire burned in the hearth, warming the cool air. As they entered, Sylvestor rose from the chaise lounge and executed a neat bow. Trevor belatedly followed suit, and it was all Seraphina could do not to smile at his obvious forgetfulness of social expectations.

“We haven’t come at a bad time, have we?” she asked, not wanting to intrude.

“Not at all,” Trevor assured her.

Sylvestor grinned. “I was just giving Trevor a new quizzing glass.”

Trevor reached into his pocket and withdrew an object.

Seraphina’s gaze dipped to the glass. “What fantastic timing. You can use it to study this flower I acquired from a banksia plant.” She passed him a flower wrapped in a handkerchief, pleased when he unfolded it and his whole face lit up. “The plant itself will be delivered later in the day. I wanted to make sure you knew it was coming so you could prepare an appropriate place to put it.”

“How fascinating,” Trevor said, using the quizzing glass to examine the flower more closely. “Such an unusual structure. There’s something very foreign about it.”

“As there should be. This particular plant was brought over on a recent boat from the Antipodes.”

“And you acquired it for me?” He looked touched.

“I did.”

He laid the flower on a tea table and bent over it, clearly itching to study it properly. “I believe this flower isn’t merely a single flower but a congregation of hundreds of tiny individual flowers.”

“Are you sure that’s actually a flower at all?” Lord Sylvestor asked. “Looks more like a soft, colorful pinecone.”

“It’s definitely a collection of flowers,” Trevor murmured, shifting to study the central area. “It is firmer than our native flora, though. The center is almost woody.”

As he continued to make observations, Seraphina noticed that Sylvestor was sidling closer to her. When he reached her, he tilted his head toward her and quietly said, “You did well. Good idea with the foreign plant. If you’re to marry him, you might want a list of them so you can present him with another next time he gets distressed.”

She nodded subtly. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

Letitia wandered over to Trevor, a willing audience—not that he seemed to need one. He appeared to be content rambling to himself. His lack of guile warmed something inside Seraphina. She loved how he never pretended to be something he wasn’t.

“Why are you choosing to marry him when you could have almost anyone, despite the scandal with Beardsly?” Sylvestor asked.

Seraphina glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Wasn’t the baron supposed to be Trevor’s closest friend? Why was he making it sound like he didn’t think Trevor was a good catch?