Page 26 of A Botanist and A Betrothal (Gentleman Scholars #4)

D awn painted Vesta's chamber in shades of gray as she paced, her slippers making soft shuffling sounds against the floor. She had barely slept, her mind too full of the previous night's activities – sneaking through the grounds with Lincoln, digging up specimens by moonlight, constantly looking over their shoulders for whoever might be watching.

"What kind of lady helps steal plants in the dead of night?" she muttered, then immediately corrected herself. "Not stealing. Relocating. For science."

The justification sounded hollow even to her own ears.

A gentle tap at her door made her jump. "Miss? Your mother is asking for you."

Vesta's heart leaped – her mother rarely sought her out anymore. "Tell her I'll come directly."

It was a matter of minutes to pull a serviceable frock over her head and braid a simple plait into her hair. She found Mrs. Caldwell in her darkened chamber, curtains drawn against the morning light. The familiar sweet-sickly scent of laudanum hung in the air.

"Vesta, dear." Her mother's voice was faint, dreamy. "I had such strange dreams. People moving through the gardens at night, like ghosts."

Vesta's hands grew cold. Had her mother seen them? "Just dreams, Mama. You know how the laudanum affects you."

"Mm, yes." Mrs. Caldwell's fingers plucked restlessly at her coverlet. "Your father used to walk in the gardens at night. Do you remember? Looking at the stars..."

"Did you ever accompany him, Mama?" Vesta perched on the edge of the bed. "Papa so loved studying the stars, didn’t he?"

Her mother's eyes focused briefly. "Like your young man? The scientist?"

"Yes." Vesta hesitated, then pressed on. "Mama, did you know about Maisie? About her spying on us?"

But Mrs. Caldwell's attention had already drifted. "Such pretty flowers in the garden. Your father loved them so..."

Vesta's throat tightened. She'd hoped, just for a moment, that her mother might offer guidance, protection, anything. But that hope had died years ago, drop by careful drop of laudanum.

A few more moments of futile attempts at a conversation and Vesta gave up, leaving her mother to her slumbers.

But she wanted to find the truth—the truth of the plants, the truth of the treasure, the truth about her stepfather, and whether or not he was actively involved in the sabotage. If not him, then who? Who had hired her maid to spy on them all? Could it really be those two, Mr. Green and Doctor Horace? But why? There were so many things they still needed to know!

Vesta almost wailed with the frustration but again quelled the strong emotions.

Outside her mother's room, she nearly collided with Kimberley and Nancy, their heads bent close together in whispered conversation.

"—father says the botanist will be worth every penny once—" Kimberley cut off abruptly at the sight of Vesta.

"Worth every penny?" Vesta repeated, her voice sharp. "What do you mean by that?"

Nancy's laugh was brittle. "Oh, nothing you need concern yourself with, sister dear . Though I suppose you'll be too busy with your scientific pursuits to care about our social advancement now."

They swept past her, giggling, but Vesta barely noticed. Her stepsisters' words had crystallized something in her mind. She hurried back to her chamber, closing the door firmly behind her.

Vesta had gotten a taste of what being studious and scientific meant, and she wanted more of it. She wanted evidence, she wanted answers, she wanted the life that Lincoln had offered.

The real trouble was, she wasn’t sure if it was still on offer, considering everything that had taken place in the last couple of days. And what of her mother? What should Vesta do about her?

Vesta was of half a mind to just pack up what little she owned and set out on her own, but she knew that was foolishness. She was a gently born woman and couldn’t hide that fact, which would make her a target for every ruffian she came across.

She didn’t know how to disguise her position with her speech or her conduct. Clothes could be easily remedied. It wasn’t as though she had been given anything very nice to wear since she had moved here, but who she was would be harder to hide.

And did she even want to? Was she so foolish and headstrong as to just up and leave?

She didn’t think so, and she suspected she might not even have the courage. But she couldn’t endure remaining here if Lincoln decided he didn’t want her anymore. Nor could she turn to Sir Edmund—that buffoon was not a worthy solution to her problem, that was certain.

She wasn’t sure why Sir Edmund had called on her after she had refused him in the past, but she was going to have to ensure the servants said she wasn’t at home to visitors the next time he called back—if there was a next time. Perhaps her distraction on his most recent visit would finally put an end to his attentions.

Vesta faced a choice: Did she leave herself to the whims of her stepfather, or did she throw herself on Lincoln’s mercy and ask him to take her away from here?

All she knew was the risk of not having access to her dowry. Even that aside, it was a big risk. If they didn’t play upon Mr. Caldwell’s whims, they risked marrying with no source of income, especially if Lincoln’s research took too long or turned out not to have a resolution.

But Vesta knew she couldn’t stay with the Caldwells. After the betrayal of her servant and her stepfather using her as a bargaining chip with no argument from her mother, Vesta knew there was nothing for her with them.

Even if Lincoln didn’t wish to marry her, she knew he was a good enough man that she could trust him, and he would help her however he could. If she had to choose and place her trust in someone, despite their short acquaintance, Vesta knew Lincoln was her best choice.

"Enough," she said to her reflection. "Enough secrets and schemes." She began to pace again, but this time with purpose, rehearsing what she would say to her stepfather.

"Mr. Caldwell, I require answers."

No, too demanding.

"Sir, we need to discuss recent events." Better, but still not quite right.

"I know Maisie was paid to spy on us." She lifted her chin, meeting her own gaze in the mirror. "I know Doctor Horace claims some prior arrangement with you. I know my stepsisters think Lincoln's research will benefit them somehow."

Her voice grew stronger.

"I deserve to know what game is being played here. If you're using me to get to Lincoln's research, or using Lincoln to get to something else entirely..." She trailed off, remembering the torn pages from the book, the strange plant arrangements, the mentions of treasure.

"I won't be a pawn in this game anymore," she declared to her reflection. "I won't let you use Lincoln's research for your schemes. And I won't let you deny me my dowry as leverage."

The words felt right. She was no longer the timid girl who had accepted her stepfather's machinations without question. Lincoln trusted her with his research, valued her observations. She owed it to them both to uncover the truth.

Vesta smoothed her skirts and checked her reflection one final time. She would confront Mr. Caldwell today, before Lincoln arrived. It was time to stop reacting to events and start demanding answers.

She opened her door with newfound determination. The house was stirring to life around her, servants moving quietly through their morning routines. Soon her stepfather would be in his study, reviewing his correspondence over his morning coffee.

Perfect timing for an ambush.