Page 14 of A Botanist and A Betrothal (Gentleman Scholars #4)

V esta hurried toward the house, anxious to speak with Mr. Caldwell about this strange visitor. It was unusual for her to consider Mr. Caldwell in the light of a saviour.

She was certain the gentleman had never called before, and she could tell from Lincoln’s posture that he was highly uncomfortable. Of course, he had told her he was not comfortable around many people, so perhaps that was the only issue.

But Vesta suspected it was something more than that—more than merely social discomfort.

Something was wrong, and she needed to get help. Vesta was certain of it.

It was hard to believe she was seeking Mr. Caldwell for help, but if this gentleman truly was there to visit her stepfather, then it was his responsibility to deal with the man. Her brash and brazen stepfather was sure to be able to handle an interloper.

"Have you seen Mr. Caldwell?" she asked the nearest footman as soon as she arrived in the house through one of the tall windows opening onto the terrace.

"I believe he’s in his library," the servant replied immediately.

"Thank you, John," she said as she hurried up the stairs.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and then knocked firmly.

"Enter," Mr. Caldwell called from deep within the large room.

Vesta opened the door and stuck her head into the room, not really interested in entering. She didn’t have any good experiences in that room, not even when she became betrothed to Doctor Welby, considering the gentleman considered himself coerced.

"There’s a Mr. Scott Green here to see you," she said hesitantly, surprised to see her stepfather frown.

"I don’t know any Scott Green," Caldwell said. "Send him away."

"He’s with Doctor Welby," Vesta said.

"Well then, have the good doctor send him away," her stepfather said, waving her away dismissively.

"I think he might be here to cause trouble," Vesta said softly, unsure of the reception she would get for her statement.

"What sort of trouble?" Mr. Caldwell asked with a fierce frown.

"I can’t rightly say," she said. "I didn’t wait around to see what he had to say. When Lincoln said he was a friend of yours, I came to get you."

"Well then, this isn’t my problem, is it?" the cantankerous older man said. "If you need help, get some of the footmen to deal with it."

Vesta sighed and nodded, taking her leave without another word. She should have known the old grouch wouldn’t be of any help, it had been foolish of her be optimistic about it. She didn’t have time to dither if Mr. Caldwell wasn’t going to help. Lincoln was counting on her; she was certain of it.

On her way back down the stairs, she was shocked to hear someone asking for her at the front door. She wanted to run and hide but could not be so craven. She did, however, hurry to the bottom of the stairs and stand where she could not be seen by the visitor and waited for a footman to come for her.

"Sir Edmund is here to see you, Miss," a footman said, keeping his voice low so as to not be overheard when Vesta shook her head and held a finger up over her mouth in a shushing gesture.

"Sir Edmund?" Vesta repeated quietly, horror dawning. "Good heavens. This is going from bad to worse.” She sighed then added, “Show him to a salon and let the housekeeper know." Vesta turned before adding, "I need to run back to the gardens and collect Doctor Welby."

Vesta had no interest in seeing an old suitor while her fiancé dealt with an intruder. She grabbed John before she left the house and had him accompany her back to the gardens.

"I’m sorry to say Mr. Caldwell isn’t prepared to meet with you, Mr. Green. In fact, he doesn’t think he knows you, and Doctor Welby’s presence is needed in the house, so we will have to wish you a good day." Vesta tried to be polite as she made an effort to rid herself of one unwelcome gentleman, even as she fretted over the presence of another within the house.

Mr. Green did not appear pleased by the turn of events, but there was nothing he could realistically do about it at that time. He took his leave ungraciously and walked away with barely a how-do-you-do.

"Mr. Caldwell really said he doesn’t know the gentleman?" Lincoln asked quietly.

Vesta nodded, her thoughts distracted. "That’s what he said. But I have another problem. We seem to be inundated with uninvited company. Sir Edmund has called to see me. Can you come in the house for tea?"

Lincoln stopped and stared at her, his expression arrested as though caught between suspicion and curiosity. "Who is Sir Edmund?" he asked. Vesta could tell he was trying to be polite but was actually reluctant to accompany her. His frown was fierce.

"I know you have better things to be doing with your time, but I would really appreciate it if you came with me," she said.

“I didn’t know you were being courted by someone,” Lincoln said, sounding aggrieved. Vesta almost thought he was jealous but dismissed the idea when he continued. “Why didn’t Mr. Caldwell say so when he demanded our marriage?”

"I do not have any sort of understanding with Sir Edmund. In fact, he makes me very uncomfortable," she added. "He tried to court me months ago before I put an end to his visits. I thought we were rid of him, but it would seem I was wrong. Or perhaps it’s nothing, but in either case, I do not wish to meet with him without my fiancé present."

Some of Lincoln’s resistance seemed to disappear at her mention of his being her fiancé. That made her feel at least a smidgen better about the situation.

Vesta wished she didn’t have to tell Lincoln anything about Sir Edmund. She wished Sir Edmund had taken himself off to the colonies. She was obviously not receiving her wishes that day and there was nothing she could do about it in the moment.

Sir Edmund was waiting for them, and her position as a gentleman’s daughter required her to display at least a modicum of politeness. Lincoln’s upbringing was similar. His heavy sigh gave evidence of the fact that while he had no wish to do so, he was about to accompany her.

It was the most uncomfortable interlude of Vesta’s life, even more uncomfortable than the evening upon which she had introduced Lincoln to her family, if that could even be imagined.

It put her quite in mind of the awkwardness when a farm had more than one rooster; both seemed determined to dominate the other in the very politest of terms. Vesta would have laughed if she didn’t want to cry. For a brief moment, she didn’t wish to be betrothed to either gentleman.

But then Lincoln seemed to call himself to account and checked himself from the almost seemingly instinctive male domination she was witnessing between the two gentlemen. He cleared his throat and sat back in the chair he was in, clearly trying for a more relaxed posture.

"Sir Edmund, tell me," he prompted, "where did you go to school?"

Vesta wasn’t sure if this was a good conversational gambit, but at least it was slightly less posturing than what had gone before.

"Eton and Cambridge," Sir Edmund replied promptly. "And you?" he asked, obviously realizing he too ought to be polite.

"I’m an Oxford man," Lincoln returned with a note of pride. "But I’ve heard good things about Cambridge," he allowed. "What did you study there?"

"Oh, I wasn’t a very dedicated student. I wasn’t about to make a career out of it. I just studied the basics in order to finish my education." The baronet seemed determined to dismiss Lincoln’s pursuits as frivolous or unworthy.

Lincoln nodded as though he didn’t notice the disparagement or that merely studying the basics wasn’t anathema to him. Again, Vesta had to stifle laughter. This time, it was of the commiserating sort, as she knew Lincoln considered higher education to be of the utmost importance.

Finally, the afternoon passed, and they were able to rid themselves of their second uninvited guest after having endured a seemingly interminable interlude of tea and biscuits.

"If you change your mind, Miss Lowell, do let me know. You could surely do better than this one," Sir Edmund said to her as he was taking his leave, not bothering to keep his voice very low.

Vesta’s face felt as though it had been touched by fire, so intense was her embarrassment that he would say something so dreadful in front of Lincoln. But Lincoln took it like a gentleman, merely putting his hand at the small of her back and waving as Sir Edmund climbed into his carriage.

"Well, wasn’t that fascinating," he said to her with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "I might have to adjust my focus of study. It’s turning out that humans are at least a little bit interesting after all."

Vesta tried to return his amusement, but Sir Edmund’s visit had left her very unsettled. It was clear he still had an interest in her and would pursue her if she allowed it.

“I was surprised at his lack of surprise when you introduced me as your fiancé. Do you think the news has spread to your neighbours already?” Lincoln asked with the slightest frown.

“I wouldn’t have thought so, but it does seem likely, doesn’t it?” Vesta returned, wondering why he would mind.

“Why did you not accept Sir Edmund’s suit?” Lincoln asked quietly. “And are you regretting that past decision?”

She was no closer to thinking he was a good match for her, but with so much uncertainty about her future, she wondered if she should have allowed that opportunity to pass. She sighed.

“I never thought he would make a suitable husband. He is reputed to mistreat his animals and his servants.”

“Never say so,” Lincoln responded immediately, stepping toward her as though to offer his protection.

Vesta’s heart felt as though it turned over in her chest. Such an uncomfortable and yet delightful experience.

“I never witnessed the behaviour myself, but I just couldn’t warm to him and his rather pointless conversations.”

“If he should call again, do not allow yourself to be alone with him, my dear,” Lincoln advised. “He didn’t strike me as the most intelligent fellow. He might be the sort who considers our betrothal to be a challenge he can overcome rather than an end to his pursuit of you.”

Vesta swallowed her response. She didn’t wish to hand her heart over to Doctor Welby just yet.