Page 17 of A Botanist and A Betrothal (Gentleman Scholars #4)

T he silence was killing him.

That was surely an overly dramatic thought for a man of science, one he knew full well wasn’t possible. But that was how he felt.

Lincoln had thought Vesta's offer of assistance would lead to a much better atmosphere between them. Gratified by her offer, he had quickly accepted it, overcoming his own disquiet about the state of their relationship.

Lincoln had thought discovering who vandalized the greenhouse would bring him and Vesta closer together. Instead, their different approaches to the investigation were driving a wedge between them.

"Mr. Caldwell would never destroy valuable plants," Vesta had insisted that morning when Lincoln suggested her stepfather might be trying to control his research. "He's obsessed with profit. If anything, he'd try to steal your work, not destroy it."

"Unless he's found some more profitable use for his land," Lincoln had countered, immediately regretting his words when he saw her expression close off.

Now they worked side by side in the greenhouse, documenting the damage in painful silence. Every time he glanced at her, he saw the hurt in her rigid posture. He hadn't meant to imply she was na?ve about her family, but his fears for her safety made him suspicious of everyone in the household.

Behind them, he could hear Kimberley and Nancy's shrill voices as they supervised the gardeners, making snide comments just loud enough to carry about "common laborers" and "fortune hunters." Their increased presence in the gardens these past few days was yet another strain on his relationship with Vesta.

"Doctor Welby," Kimberley called out with false sweetness, "surely you don't mean to keep our dear sister out here all day again? She has responsibilities in the house."

Lincoln's jaw clenched. Since Vesta had refused their domestic tasks, her stepsisters had taken to interrupting their work constantly. Each intrusion carried thinly veiled threats about speaking to their father.

"I believe Miss Lowell's primary responsibility now is to assist with my research," he replied stiffly. "As per your father's agreement."

"Oh yes, the ‘research’," Nancy drawled with a sneer in her tone, gesturing at the devastation around them. "Though it seems you're not doing a very good job of protecting your precious plants. Perhaps if you spent more time watching your greenhouse and less time monopolizing our sister."

"That's enough." Vesta's quiet voice cut through her stepsister's taunts. "You've made your position clear. Now, please leave us to our work."

Lincoln felt a surge of pride at her composure, even as he worried about the consequences of her defiance. The stepsisters flounced away, but he could hear them plotting their next interruption.

"I'm sorry," he said softly when they were alone again. "I know I'm making things more difficult for you."

"Don't apologize for them," Vesta replied, still not meeting his eyes as she cataloged broken equipment. "But Lincoln... they're not wrong about one thing. We do need to focus on protecting your work. And constantly suspecting my mother’s family isn't helping us find the real culprits."

He sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "You're right. But I can't help feeling that the answer is right in front of us. The timing of Mr. Green's visit, then the vandalism..."

"And what about the connection to the treasure hunt?" Vesta asked. "We still haven't figured out how the poem Mr. Green quoted ties into all this."

Lincoln stared at the empty spot where the white foxglove had grown. "Perhaps that's the key. What if someone is using my research as cover for searching for something else entirely?"

The thoughtful look that crossed Vesta's face made his heart leap. This was what he'd been missing — her ability to see connections he might overlook. If only he could protect her while still treating her as a true partner.

"We need to show these notes to your friends at the institute," she said suddenly. "Fresh eyes might help us see what we're missing."

Lincoln hesitated. Involving others might put them at risk too. But he couldn't deny the logic of her suggestion.

"You're going to tell me I should stay here while you consult them, aren't you?" Vesta asked, finally meeting his gaze with a challenge in her eyes.

And there it was — the heart of the tension between them. How could he keep her safe without diminishing her role in their partnership?

For a scientist, he was finding out he was really a terrible communicator.

"No," Lincoln said finally, surprising them both. "No, you're right. We're partners in this. Besides, your observations about the plant combinations have been invaluable. The other scholars need to hear your theories directly."

Some of the tension eased from Vesta's shoulders, though she still handled the broken equipment with more force than necessary. "Then why do you keep trying to shield me from everything? Either you trust me, or you don't, Lincoln."

"I do trust you," he said quietly. "It's everyone else I worry about. When I think about what could have happened if you'd been here when they vandalized the greenhouse, I nearly cast up my accounts."

"But I wasn't. And treating me like I might break isn't going to help us solve this." She set down the notebook she'd been writing in and faced him fully. "Do you know what I think? I think whoever did this wanted to frighten us. To make us doubt each other."

Lincoln considered her words. "You might be right. Mr. Green seemed more interested in causing discord than actually learning about the plants."

"Exactly. And look how well it's working — we're jumping at shadows and suspecting everyone." She gestured toward the house. "Yes, my stepsisters are horrible, and Mr. Caldwell is probably plotting something, but they're not subtle enough for this kind of sabotage."

A laugh escaped him at her matter-of-fact assessment of her family. "You make an excellent point."

He sobered quickly though. "But that means whoever did this is still out there, watching us."

"Then let them watch," Vesta said with surprising fierceness. "We'll be more careful, but we won't stop our work. And we won't let them drive us apart."

Lincoln felt something warm unfurl in his chest at her words. This was why he'd been drawn to her from the start — her quiet determination, her sharp mind, her refusal to be cowed by threats.

"I'll need to consult with the other scholars," he said carefully. "But I'll return with their insights, and we can work through them together."

Vesta nodded, though he saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face. Before he could question it, she spoke.

"That makes sense. I can continue documenting the plant combinations while you're gone. And," she hesitated, then continued, "I might be able to learn something from my stepfather's papers if I'm careful."

"Vesta..." Lincoln started, worry creeping back into his voice.

"I won't do anything reckless," she assured him. "But someone has to keep investigating here while you're gone. We're partners, remember?"

Their laughter felt like a release of pressure, dispelling the morning's tension. They turned back to their work with renewed purpose, documenting everything methodically while discussing theories about the treasure hunt's connection to the vandalism.

When Kimberley and Nancy made another appearance, their barbed comments seemed to slide off Vesta more easily. Lincoln marveled at her composure, even as he noticed how she positioned herself between him and her stepsisters, as though protecting him from their venom.

It struck him then — he wasn't the only one feeling protective. Perhaps that was the key to their partnership: not trying to shield each other completely but trusting each other to play to their strengths.

He would consult the scholars, and she would work from within her household. Together, they might actually stand a chance of solving this mystery.

The next day, when he arrived at his usual time despite his restless night of sleep, he didn’t see Vesta in the gardens or the greenhouse. He finally went into the main house to find her.

The servants directed him to Mr. Caldwell’s library, much to his shock. He hurried up the stairs but didn’t bother being announced by a footman. He knocked lightly on the door before sticking his head inside.

“Hello? Vesta, are you in here?” he called softly, hoping he wasn’t about to disturb Mr. Caldwell.

Vesta was sitting at a small table, hunched over a thick old book, but at Lincoln’s call, she lifted her head. To his pleasant surprise, her face was alight with excitement, her grin stretching nearly from ear to ear.

“Lincoln! I think I found it!”

“Found what, exactly?” he asked, entering the room, returning her smile despite his confusion, and eager to share in her excitement.

“This old textbook contains information that seems to connect your plants and that poem you were telling me about. I can hardly believe it!” Vesta was nearly dancing in her seat.

Lincoln frowned, and disappointment flickered across Vesta's face. Realization dawned on her features immediately, reassuring Lincoln of her intelligence but not reassuring him of his scientific discovery.

“If your plant is in this old book, then it’s not new, is it?” she asked with a frown of her own.

“That’s fine,” Lincoln assured her. “It’s not dire if I haven’t discovered a new plant. Let’s see what the book says about it. We still might have discovered its properties. They didn’t even know anything about heart disease until recently. Don’t feel badly, my good woman,” he said, stepping forward and patting her on the shoulder. “I would actually rather find out before we present a paper claiming a discovery that we didn’t actually make.”

Vesta frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, most scientists write a report to the Royal Society when they discover something or invent something. If we wrote that we were the ones to discover this plant, and there was evidence that someone else had done so... how shameful that could be.”

“Shameful?” Vesta gasped, offended on his behalf. “How could you be ashamed of that?”

“Claiming a discovery you didn’t make?” Lincoln explained. “You could hardly claim to be a scientist if you did that.”

“Well, there’s no way that you would be able to know!” Vesta argued, the frown on her face making its way into her voice. “There’s no shame in that. You didn’t read every single book that exists.”

Lincoln laughed. “The assumption among the scientific community is that you did, in fact, read every book that exists, if you’re a true scholar.”

Vesta joined him in his laughter despite her obvious disapproval of such an assumption. Then they both hunched over the book, studying what Vesta had found, as well as some rather cryptic notes in the margins.

“This is what you thought connected to the poem, isn’t it?” Lincoln asked. “I can see why you would think that.”

They both poured over the book for a time, reading what was written there and trying to interpret the notes. But even as he read, Lincoln couldn’t help sinking into suspicion.

How did Vesta find this book?

He had never heard of it. He had never heard of that plant until finding it.

Was he as foolish as he was feeling, or was she somehow involved in the destruction of his greenhouse? How did Mr. Green tie into everything? What of Sir Edmund...?

Lincoln’s unease rose exponentially as he sat beside the beautiful young woman who was his fiancée, and yet—what did he know of her? She seemed to adapt well to his interests and pursuits, but to what end? Why would she pretend to be interested in his science?

“I think I’m going to have to agree with you,” Lincoln said with a sigh. “There is definitely a connection.”

Lincoln had been taking many notes and comparing what they found in the book to what he could remember from the poem. They had finally taken the book with them to another room where they could be more comfortable and were less likely to be disturbed.

“How did you come to find this book?” Lincoln finally asked. He must not have been able to hide the suspicion in his tone, because Vesta’s gaze sharpened.

“What do you mean, how did I come to find it?” she asked with a frown. “I was trying to see what sort of books Mr. Caldwell might have about plants and the surrounding countryside. You’ve been asking repeatedly how it could happen that they grow together. I thought it could help.”

“You’re right,” Lincoln replied immediately. “It does help. But isn’t it strange that you found this book in Mr. Caldwell’s possession? How could he possibly be involved in the treasure hunt? How could my plant, or rather maybe not my plant, but the plants here, and the treasure that no one seemingly knows about be connected?”

Lincoln got up from the table and began to pace, shoving a hand restlessly through his hair. “But Mr. Green quoted from the same poem, so it’s clearly not such a hidden subject, and obviously, Mr. Caldwell must have some involvement if these notes were found in his book.”

He stopped in his pacing and turned a narrowed gaze upon his fiancée. “Are you absolutely certain you knew nothing of it until I told you?”

“Of course, I’m certain, Lincoln. What are you asking me? You think I lured you here under false pretences? You’re the one who came onto this property uninvited. How could I have arranged that?”

Vesta jumped to her feet, putting her hands on her hips in her heated state. “One could argue, if it’s true that there’s a connection here, that you are the interloper trying to involve yourself in something that doesn’t concern you.”

She began gesturing rather wildly. “And surely, you’ve witnessed my interaction with this household enough to know that I am not party to anything in Mr. Caldwell’s life, let alone being involved in some sort of conspiracy with him.”

“Is that really true, though?” Lincoln asked. “Wouldn’t you do almost anything to please him, even becoming engaged to a stranger? As far as I know we had no knowledge of each other until the day I came on this property. From what I can tell, you grew up in the strangest of circumstances. You would give almost anything to be accepted and approved of by this household, wouldn’t you?”

The expression on her face made Lincoln feel as though he had abused her or slapped her in some way, but he couldn’t take back the words. There was no getting around the fact that the notes in that book were handwritten—they were not published in the book. So, someone in this household had likely put them there, and if they did pertain to the treasure hunt, that confused everything.

“We’ll have to speak to Mr. Caldwell about it, won’t we?” Vesta said, shutting the book and quietly handing it over to Lincoln. “Do you have any wish to return to the greenhouse today, or shall we have luncheon called and you can do whatever you plan to do?”

Lincoln stared at her. Was she not going to defend herself from his bold accusation?

Lincoln had never seen her so despondent, but he had no way of comforting her given the circumstances.

He wished he had never set foot on the Caldwell property. But then he suddenly rejected that thought. He wouldn’t have her if he hadn’t—but did he really have her if she was in league against him?

Or if he had hurt her sensibilities to such an extent that she chose to reject their betrothal?