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

V esta’s heart pounded as she pressed her ear against the thick wooden door.

She shouldn’t be there. Or well, she should be in that corridor, but dusting. She shouldn’t be standing so blatantly trying to overhear. If she were to be caught, she couldn’t even fathom what the consequences could be.

Once again, she had been pressed into service of the menial sort, but this time she didn’t mind overly much. Dusting the shelves in the hallway allowed her access to eavesdrop upon the conversation between the scholar and her stepfather.

It was a risk she was willing to take. Standing in the hallway outside Mr. Caldwell's study meant she could be caught at any moment, but her curiosity was outweighing her fear. She had been the one to direct the gentleman to her stepfather, after all. One could say she had a stake in the conversation.

Well, an open-minded person might. It wasn’t likely Mr. Caldwell would.

She could only hope the businessman saw benefit to allowing the scientist to study or whatever he wanted to do on the property. He would probably expect a percentage of Doctor Welby’s profits, but Vesta couldn’t consider that unfair under the circumstances as long as the arrangements were reasonable and not overly onerous for the botanist.

Through the heavy oak door, she could hear Mr. Caldwell's voice, stern and authoritative. "Mr. Welby, I understand your passion for your work. However, I must consider what is best for my family."

Vesta's own passion for botanical studies made her lean closer. She'd spent countless hours poring over her father's old scientific texts, learning Latin names and medicinal properties.

Her mother used to encourage her studies, back when she still took interest in things beyond her laudanum drops. But that was before. Before Mr. Caldwell, before the decline in their circumstances, before everything changed.

Lincoln’s voice, calm yet insistent and eager, followed. “I assure you, sir, my intentions are purely scientific. The plant I’ve discovered on your land could hold the key to numerous medicinal advancements. It could save lives.”

Vesta leaned closer, her breath catching. Medicinal advancements? What kind of plant could be so important? Excitement surged through her along with determination to involve herself in his studies in some way. How thrilling that would be.

She thought of the pressed flowers hidden in her room, her careful notes on their properties, the way she'd helped the cook identify healing herbs for the kitchen garden. All secret studies, done when her stepsisters weren't around to mock her "unfeminine" interests. If only she could speak with a real scientist about such things, share theories and observations.

Mr. Caldwell’s tone turned shrewd, interrupting her thoughts. “Your research is admirable, Mr. Welby, I’m sure, but access to my land comes at a price. You must marry my stepdaughter, Vesta.”

Vesta’s eyes widened in shock, and she took a step back from the door for a second. Marriage? To the scholar? Why would he demand such a ridiculous thing? Of course, the scholar would refuse. Why didn’t Mr. Caldwell just deny him access if he didn’t want the scientist on his land?

Unless... her heart raced as pieces fell into place. The strange symbols she'd noticed in the garden layouts, the odd arrangements of certain plants that seemed too precise to be natural. Could there be more to Mr. Caldwell's interest than just the botanical research? She'd heard whispers in the village about other scholars searching for something, though nobody seemed to know quite what.

She couldn't help but remember their encounter yesterday — how different he'd been from what she'd expected of a scholar. Despite his obvious distraction with the plants, there had been a gentleness in his manner, an underlying kindness in how he'd spoken to her. And when he'd smiled... Vesta felt her cheeks warm at the memory. She'd never seen anyone so transformed by joy over a simple plant specimen.

Not that such observations should matter. She had no intention of letting her stepfather arrange her marriage, no matter how agreeable the gentleman in question might be.

Vesta quickly stepped closer in order to hear what was said next. Lincoln’s stunned silence seemed to stretch forever before he finally spoke. “Marriage? But, sir, I barely know Miss Lowell.”

Her pulse quickened, and she fought the urge to burst in and shout that she had no desire to marry a stranger either. Instead, she listened intently as Mr. Caldwell continued.

“That barely matters,” her stepfather said. Vesta could imagine him waving away the gentleman’s concern. “You will get to know her, Mr. Welby. She is a fine young woman and deserves a husband of standing. It is a fair exchange for the scientific opportunity you seek.”

Vesta’s mind raced. The lack of power she had over her own life swept through her, and she almost threw a fit. What good would that do? Her mother wouldn’t stand up for her; the poor woman couldn’t.

Lincoln’s voice grew firmer. “I understand your position, Mr. Caldwell, but I cannot agree to such terms without first speaking to Miss Lowell herself.”

Vesta’s heart fluttered. He wanted to speak to her? Maybe he wasn’t as cold-hearted as she feared. Perhaps he would understand her predicament. Unlike most gentlemen of her acquaintance, he seemed to value a woman's thoughts. The way he'd listened so intently yesterday when they’d briefly discussed the unusual plants, actually considering her words instead of dismissing them, had caused her heart to flutter then too.

But then, he probably only wanted to speak with her to find a polite way to refuse. No gentleman of his obvious breeding and intelligence would want to be forced into marriage with a barely dowered stepdaughter of a merchant.

“I will arrange a meeting,” Mr. Caldwell said. “But know this, Mr. Welby: without this agreement, there will be no access to my land.”

Vesta’s hands trembled as she clutched the dusting cloth. This was her chance to make her feelings known. She must confront her stepfather about this ridiculous suggestion. She could not let her future be decided without her consent.

As the conversation in the study continued, Vesta’s internal dialogue roared.

How dare he barter me away like a piece of property? Does he think so little of me? Well of course he does. But I cannot allow that to decide matters. I must find a way to make my voice heard. I won’t let him ruin my life for his ambitions.

Vesta pulled herself up short and stepped further down the hall, her mind in a whirl. She couldn’t face either of them yet. Not while she was in such a turmoil. She wasn’t even supposed to know what had been discussed. If she reacted, it would be evident she had been eavesdropping.

She hurried into a small parlour just as the library door creaked open.

She needed a plan, and she needed it fast.

It was very likely this was some stratagem on her stepfather’s part. Most likely to benefit his daughters. Her breath caught. Was that it? Who was Doctor Welby? Was he connected in some way to the upper echelons of Society?

She thought of Kimberley and Nancy's latest social failures. Just last week, they'd mortified themselves at the assembly by loudly discussing potential suitors' fortunes. Lady Pembrook had been particularly scandalized when Nancy declared she wouldn't settle for less than five thousand a year, "just like that fancy mathematician's wife got."

Others had murmured and demurred. Vesta had nearly laughed. The mathematician wasn’t fancy, it was his lady wife who had been the wealthy one.

The memory made the breath catch in her throat.

The mathematician's wife... Vesta frowned. Hadn't there been some gossip about a treasure hunt? Something about coded messages and star charts? But surely that couldn't have anything to do with Doctor Welby's plant research.

Vesta dragged her thoughts back to her stepfather’s atrocious bargain with the scholar.

If it were merely wealth involved in the transaction it wasn’t likely he would use Vesta. He would arrange for one of his own daughters to benefit from the wealth. Kimberley and Nancy, with their garish gowns and loud voices, desperately needed the polish that good marriages could provide.

Just this morning, she'd overheard Nancy practicing her French with the new maid. "Fetch me my bon-net," she'd demanded, mangling the pronunciation so badly even the maid had winced. And Kimberley's latest attempt at playing the pianoforte had sent the cat yowling from the room. Yet they dared to mock her interest in books and science.

"At least we know how to catch a husband," Kimberley had sneered yesterday, when she caught Vesta reading in the garden. "All your clever books won't keep you warm at night, sister dear." The way she'd said 'sister' had made it sound like an insult.

No, the botanist must be connected to the wellborn but not be terribly important himself in her stepfather’s eyes.

It was Mr. Caldwell’s greatest ambition to buy a title for one of his daughters, or both of them would be even better to his mind.

Confronting Mr. Caldwell would be the first step to resolving this issue, but she also needed to find a way to speak to Doctor Welby. Surely, he couldn’t want to wed with a stranger. Plants couldn’t possibly be worth that.

Though she had to admit, there was something compelling about his passion for his work. The way his eyes had lit up when discussing the plants, how his hands had moved with such precision as he'd gestured toward the specimens. It was so different from the calculated social manners she was used to seeing. There had been real warmth there, real enthusiasm.

Stop it, she chided herself. It didn't matter how handsome he looked when he smiled, or how his voice took on such fascinating depths when he spoke of his research. She wouldn't let herself be sold into marriage, not even to an intriguing botanist who actually seemed to value the things she secretly loved.

Gathering her courage, Vesta resolved to take control of her future. This arranged marriage might be her stepfather’s plan, but she would not be a passive participant.

She had resources of her own, minor though they might be. Her botanical knowledge, her observations of the strange patterns in the garden, the overheard fragments of scholarly gossip — surely these could be turned to some advantage. If Doctor Welby truly needed access to those plants, perhaps they could find a solution that didn't involve either of them being forced into an unwanted marriage.

Besides, she thought with a slight smile, her stepfather always underestimated her. He saw only the quiet, obedient stepdaughter who did as she was told. He had no idea how much she observed, how much she understood. That could be useful.

She would fight for her independence, her future, and perhaps, if fortune was kind, her own happiness. Vesta had never done so before, but surely, she was of sufficiently sound mind to do it now when it was most needed.

Vesta would far rather be a spinster than be bartered off for her stepfather’s dubious benefit.