Page 19 of A Botanist and A Betrothal (Gentleman Scholars #4)
L incoln came to his senses with what felt like a thud.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” he said quietly but firmly to Vesta, beckoning for her to leave the room just as she was approaching the desk to search for a latch to the hidden compartment.
“While it seems that Mr. Caldwell is not being straightforward with us, it’s not for us to begin acting as nefariously as he has been. I cannot base my science on larceny.” Lincoln started toward the door.
Vesta laughed. “Larceny? I wasn’t planning to steal anything.”
“What would you do if you found something that would be helpful to us? Would you merely leave it there?” he asked her.
“Well, we could make a copy, couldn’t we?” she said. “Or we would at least know. Aren’t you the one always seeking more knowledge?”
“I think it best if we return to the greenhouse,” Lincoln replied instead.
Vesta stared at him as though he had lost his mind for a moment, but then something shifted in her features, and she nodded. They quickly left the room together without another word of protest.
As they were walking outside, Vesta admitted to Lincoln, “I haven’t been surrounded by people with high standards of any sort since my father’s death. Obviously, even my mother lowered her standards out of desperation, and now I am at risk of following in her footsteps. Thank you, Lincoln, for stopping me.”
Lincoln’s chest suddenly felt tight as though puffed up with pride and delight over Vesta’s words. He patted her hand.
“You were probably just thinking of me,” he said, “or perhaps yourself, but that’s justified,” he added with a laugh.
His grip on Vesta’s elbow suddenly tightened.
“Do you know of anyone that’s supposed to be visiting the greenhouse today?” he asked, pulling her along at a quicker pace.
“No,” Vesta said. “Since all the damage, even the gardeners are supposed to stay away aside from keeping an eye on it.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure someone’s in there. Perhaps we should first get one of the grooms or footmen to come with us.” Lincoln turned them away from the greenhouse and they hurried out of sight.
They quickly made their way to the stables and asked one of the grooms to accompany them. If there was going to be a struggle, they wanted to be reinforced. They were right to be concerned, as it turned out. When they arrived, they discovered it was Mr. Green in the greenhouse, looking around.
“What are you doing here?” Lincoln demanded. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
“Damage? Whatever do you mean?” To Lincoln’s ears, Mr. Green’s surprise sounded genuine, but he was unused to any form of prevarication, so how was he to know?
Then the other gentleman with Mr. Green turned around.
“Doctor Welby,” he greeted in an overly enthusiastic, fake sounding voice. Lincoln stiffened with dismay and Vesta stared at him, sensing his discomfort.
“Miss Lowell, might I present Doctor Horace to you,” Lincoln said stiffly, introducing the two without actually greeting the other man.
“Welby, I’ve heard you are digging into my research. What do you have to say for yourself?” Doctor Horace asked with his arms crossed and an air of authority surrounding him.
“Your research?” Lincoln repeated. “What are you talking about?”
“Mr. Green here tells me you have been experimenting with plants on Mr. Caldwell’s property and think to steal a march on me.”
“What are you on about, Horace?” Lincoln asked, restrained fury sounding in his voice. “I have an arrangement with Mr. Caldwell that allows me to run my experiments here on his property.”
“Well, I have a previous arrangement with Mr. Caldwell, and you are interfering,” Doctor Horace replied with such confidence that Lincoln didn’t think to question the veracity of his words.
Lincoln’s jaw set at a painful angle as he struggled to keep the vile words he wished to utter behind his teeth. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper in front of his betrothed, nor very scholarly in front of the other scientist.
But was Vesta his betrothed?
Mr. Caldwell was making arrangements with other scientists. What sort of other agreements had he made? Or was it only Lincoln who had seemed like such an easy mark that he had demanded an engagement between them?
Fury threatened to choke him. He was nearly certain Vesta was not involved in any sort of scheme against him. Her widened gaze and tight clutch of his arm indicated her discomfort with the situation.
Lincoln wanted to stalk off and leave the property, but he couldn’t leave Vesta there to deal with it all on her own. He pulled himself to his full height and mustered up Grandfather Westbrook’s haughtiest tone as he commanded the gentlemen to leave.
“Mr. Caldwell isn’t home right now, so the veracity of your claims cannot be confirmed. We will have to ask you to leave the premises and return when he is present.” Lincoln stepped back and gestured for the other men to precede him from the greenhouse.
“You have no authority here,” Doctor Horace sneered at Lincoln.
“Perhaps not,” Lincoln replied, trying to appear unconcerned, “but neither do you. So, I will have to insist that you leave, and John the groom here will help you on your way.”
Lincoln was relieved they had stopped to collect the servant, who was large and strong and just intimidating enough to encourage the other scientist to leave without further argument. Lincoln and Vesta watched in silence as Mr. Green and Doctor Horace stalked away, grumbling incoherently.
Lincoln was glad to see the back of them but his quiet had been sufficiently disturbed that he didn’t know if he could comfortably work on Mr. Caldwell’s property that day. He could hear the frustration in his voice as he turned to Vesta.
“I just wish we could bundle everything up and take it back to the institute. This is becoming ridiculous, don’t you think?” he asked Vesta. “Between other botanists and your various suitors turning up and interrupting us, we’re never going to get any work done.”
Vesta’s heightened colour indicated she didn’t appreciate Lincoln’s statement, but he was at the end of his endurance and didn’t have the forbearance to apologize once more. He knew he was being a bear, but what could he do?
He thought he was going to need a solicitor to sort out the matter of his access to the property, but it was going to be his word against Mr. Caldwell’s if it came down to an argument of access, especially now that Doctor Horace was seemingly involved.
As Doctor Horace was following behind the groom, he shouted out something that Lincoln just barely heard. He stared at Vesta, trying to understand.
“Did you hear that?” he asked her with a frown that he could even hear in his voice.
“It sounded like he said, ‘Neath moonlit sky, the roses weep,’” Vesta repeated what she heard.
“That’s what it sounded like to me too,” Lincoln agreed with a sigh. “How do they know about the poem?” he asked, fear and dismay warring within him. “Mr. Green had quoted from it when he was here the first time, too. They must be working together. And they certainly know about the treasure.”
“But how could the two possibly be connected?” Vesta asked, frowning.
“That is a question with very little possibility of gaining an answer. We’ll have to talk to the others about it to see if any of them have said anything. And I ought to write to Mr. Smythe and Lady Evangeline about where the original papers were found.”
Lincoln tried to get back to work even as he grumbled and mumbled about all their worries. He got his instruments set up, and his fingers were just beginning to stain from the soil when they were disturbed once more.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the footman called from the doorway, “but Miss Vesta, Sir Edmund is here to see you again.”
Lincoln uttered an unpleasant word he shouldn’t say in a lady’s presence and couldn’t even find it within himself to apologize. To his shock, though, Vesta laughed.
“I wish I could release my frustration so easily,” she said as she wiped a tear from sliding down her cheek. “I’m starting to wonder if any of this is worth it,” she added with a sigh as she wiped her hands on her apron to follow the servant.
“Any of what is worth it?” Lincoln called out to her. “And should I come with you?” he added.
She didn’t bother to answer, merely kept walking towards the house. Lincoln stared after her as a sense of doom hovered over his head.
Was he going to lose everything?
With a hiss of disgust, he too wiped off his hands and hurried after Vesta and the footman. He wasn’t going to lose his betrothed to such a namby-pamby fellow as Sir Edmund.