Page 12 of A Botanist and A Betrothal (Gentleman Scholars #4)

E xtracted from us, Vesta repeated inside her head, despair and anger warring within her chest.

Of course, it wasn’t as though they had met and decided to wed on their own. They had been coerced into their betrothal. But it didn’t always feel like that to her when she could forget for a moment, like earlier when he was explaining the plants to her.

How could she have allowed herself to forget that even for a moment?

Lincoln was marrying her for access to the plants, not for anything to do with her personally. She needed to keep that foremost in her mind and not become some silly romantic fool over the man.

She blinked away what was likely written on her face and straightened her shoulders, turning her attention to what he had said prior to hurting her feelings. She knew the gentle scientist hadn’t intended to hurt her in any way. It would be foolish to allow the barb to stick under the flesh of her sensitive soul.

A treasure hunt—that might be a way to find direction in her life.

Very well, she would help, and of course, she would keep his secrets. It wasn’t as though she felt any sort of fondness or loyalty toward Mr. Caldwell or his interests. And she hadn’t really been allowed to develop any friendships, even in the village.

Who was there for her to tell?

Much of her enjoyment was gone from the afternoon, though.

It wasn’t truly Lincoln’s fault. She was the one who had allowed her imagination to get away from her, thinking they could be friends or even something more. But while she followed him from tree to shrub to plant and back again, her enthusiasm for the pursuit of science had waned considerably.

It was still fascinating, of course, learning about the different plants and watching him take such avid interest in each one. It took her a little while, but after some time had passed, his enthusiasm rubbed off on her once more. She was finally able to relax again and even offer further help.

“I could take the notes for you,” she offered quietly after watching him scribble away in his notebook.

“Really?” Lincoln asked, sounding eager. “You wouldn’t mind?” he asked further.

Vesta laughed. “My Latin is very poor. I might not know how to spell everything, but if you speak slowly enough, I should be able to make the notes for you. They should be legible at the very least.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful and would speed up the process so much.”

“Speed it up? But I just asked you to speak slowly,” Vesta protested with a giggle that surprised them both after the rather morose afternoon.

“That doesn’t matter,” Lincoln replied. “Even if I speak slowly, the process will still be faster if I don’t have to stop and write. Thank you!” It sounded to Vesta’s ears as though no one had ever offered him any sort of assistance.

“Don’t the scholars help each other?” she asked hesitantly, unsure if she was going to hurt his feelings or not.

It sounded to Vesta that the laugh he gave her in response was nervous laughter, but she couldn’t fathom why.

“I suppose we do,” he said, “in certain matters. But there is often a competitive spirit amongst fellow scientists, even when we are in different studies altogether. It isn’t meant to be mean spirited, but each is so determined to attain their pursuits, we rarely make time for one another unless there is benefit in it for ourselves.”

At her shocked expression he gave another awkward laugh and shrugged. “It sounds dreadful, I know. Most of the fellows at the Scholarly Institute are good men and would likely assist if I were to ask. But no one has ever offered to take notes for me, not voluntarily.”

Lincoln shrugged again making Vesta suspect he was trying to excuse others’ behaviour and explain his own delight over her offer.

“I have a tendency to talk too much or go in a roundabout way in my notes. I can condense them myself before I write it down, but if you take the notes, I think we might actually capture more appropriate information. I will try very hard not to talk too fast for you.”

He handed her his notebook and pencil. “Be sure to let me know if you aren’t enjoying it or if I’m going too fast or if you need something else to change.”

Vesta laughed.

“I’m doing it now, aren’t I? Talking too much?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh of his own.

“Maybe a little,” she said shyly. “Never mind. Let’s try it and see how it works. Maybe you won’t like my notetaking and you’ll want to take it back.”

“That’s not likely,” Lincoln said with a grin.

And so they carried on, returning to examining the mysterious plants that he thought were rare, rather than scouring the trees for any other symbols.

For the time being, it seemed as though Lincoln had forgotten about his treasure hunt. But just as they were about to go in for supper, he pulled her aside, thanked her for her notes, and asked her opinion.

“What do you think, Vesta?” he said, hesitating over her name.

She had noticed that all afternoon he almost never addressed her directly. It was as though he too were uncomfortable being so personal.

She couldn’t blame him, as she also couldn’t bring herself to use his first name as a form of address. But she admitted to herself, inside the silence of her own mind, that she did think of him as Lincoln.

Despite that brief discomfort earlier, when it was evident that he felt it wasn’t the best future for him to be committed to her, Vesta still felt that their union had great potential for her.

She couldn’t fault him for his hesitance, and she appreciated that his word as a gentleman meant that he would keep the commitment if she still wanted to go forward with it. If she wasn’t to have a Season, she suspected Doctor Lincoln Welby was the best possible future for her.

Of course, there had been potential suitors in the past, but either Mr. Caldwell had chased them away, or they were completely unsuitable to Vesta for reasons of her own. Unfortunately, the least suitable to her were the ones Mr. Caldwell was most furious with her for refusing.

There had been one gentleman in particular who had been quite eager in his pursuit of her, but Vesta had taken him in dislike and didn’t wish to think of him at all. It was the only time she and Mr. Caldwell had agreed.

The fact that Mr. Caldwell had arranged this match with Doctor Welby for her was shocking on many levels. He had never exhibited any good taste before, nor had he ever seemed to have her interests in mind.

Of course, Vesta reminded herself, the churlish man thought Lincoln’s family was going to be able to provide some sort of benefit to his daughters. Discomfort squirmed through Vesta’s insides as she contemplated the evening before her. What must Lincoln think of the Caldwell girls?

“You don’t mind Kimberly and Nancy over much, do you?” she asked Lincoln quietly before they entered the house.

“Mind them?” he repeated, obviously stalling for time. “What do you mean?”

“They’re not the sort you would normally spend time with, are they?” she asked.

Lincoln laughed. “I don’t normally spend time with anyone,” he admitted.

"Plants are more your style?" she asked with a laugh as she took his elbow and walked into the house to the sound of his accompanying laughter.

"Something like that, yes," he agreed, not sounding insulted in the least. "People aren’t my strength," he admitted, "but I am thinking of your stepsisters as curious plants, like milkweed—strange and not very attractive, but they can have their uses. We just haven’t discovered what they are when it comes to your sisters—"

"They aren’t my sisters," Vesta reminded him and was gratified when he bowed to her with an apology.

"You’re right. I misspoke. Thank you for reminding me. You are nothing like them. It is easy to notice."

Vesta was pleased by his quick acceptance of her correction. "Thank you, Doctor Welby," she said.

His frown indicated his own desire to correct her.

"Can’t you call me by my name?" he asked in a low tone that did inexplicable things to her belly, making her want to curl closer to him. But then she reminded herself that he was being coerced into this relationship, and she refused to acknowledge the warmer feelings.

"Have you explored the greenhouses yet, Lincoln?" she said, adding gentle emphasis to his name, pleased by his smile and response.

"I did," he said. "Earlier, before noon, when I first arrived, the gardeners showed me around. They showed me an empty space where I can set up my instruments, but I fear it’s not secure enough—or sanitary enough, for that matter. I wish Mr. Caldwell would allow me to take materials back to the institute."

"Once we’re married, we can do whatever we want," Vesta sighed.

Lincoln laughed and nodded. "Do you trust him, though?" he asked with a frown, looking around and keeping his voice low, obviously not wishing to be overheard by anyone in the household.

"What do you mean?" Vesta asked, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Do you trust that he will allow us to take the plants once we’re married? What will we have left to bargain with?" Lincoln’s frown furrowed his brow and he hesitated as he spoke, as though not wishing to voice his concerns that might hurt her feelings.

Vesta's heart sank.

Was Lincoln right? Was Mr. Caldwell going to find a way to further exploit him?

She was reasonably sure the man’s word could be trusted if he gave it. But that wasn’t really based on any concrete knowledge, just a feeling she had.

"Perhaps we should demand to have it in writing," she suggested. "A contract."

Lincoln’s eyes widened and glowed as though he were impressed with her suggestion. "I usually have my head in the clouds," Lincoln admitted, "and business matters are not my strength, but that is a wonderful suggestion. Thank you, my dear. It is likely to appeal to your stepfather, as well, when you think about it.”

Vesta nodded for lack of anything else to say.

"Have you seen the greenhouses?" he asked before the silence became awkward.

Vesta was pleased that he seemed inclined to remain in her company, lingering in conversation. "Not since I was a little girl exploring her new home," she said.

"I will take you there tomorrow," Lincoln promised.

Vesta's heart swelled before she could squelch the reaction. It wouldn’t do to fall in love, she reminded herself firmly.