Page 20 of A Trial of His Affections (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #2)

Chapter Twenty

G race sat in the window seat of the drawing room, waiting for Mr. Yardley’s carriage to arrive. Her legs bounced restlessly, as she could hardly contain her excitement for their outing.

She had seen pictures of the Apothecary’s Garden in several of the journals she read. But pictures never did justice to the plants they captured.

Pulling her legs up beneath her, she straightened her skirts over them and leaned her head against the window. Surely, he would be there soon. Several carriages passed the front of their townhome, but none were Mr. Yardley’s.

The mantle clock chimed twelve times, and Grace strained to see to the other end of Hart Street.

Where was he? She had never known him to be late. Indeed, he was usually early. Why must it be today, of all days, that he found himself delayed? She mused.

She let out a frustrated sigh. But just as she was about to stand up so she might pace, she saw a familiar carriage on Hart Street at the other side of the park. Jumping out of the window seat, Grace smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

Faster than was surely proper, she hurried to the entryway to retrieve her spencer and bonnet. She shoved on her gloves and made a hasty attempt at the ribbons, which hung askew, half-unfastened and wholly untidy.

Then she stood in the entryway and waited.

Her foot tapped impatiently on the tiles. What was taking him so long?

She glanced at the door, momentarily considering removing her bonnet. What would he think if he came in and saw her standing there waiting for him? Would he think her too eager?

She did not have long to consider the question before the sound of the knocker echoed through the entryway. Lansing emerged from the side room and opened the door to admit Mr. Yardley.

He stepped inside, and his lips turned up in a smile the moment he saw her.

A flutter stirred in her stomach, and her knees lost some of their resolve. Who would have thought excitement alone could produce such sensations?

“Again, Miss Jenkins, you seem to have anticipated me.” Mr. Yardley grinned widely.

Grace thought about understating the situation but decided against it. He should know how excited she was. He likely had made these arrangements just for her. And he should know that she appreciated it. “When Philip showed me your missive, I could barely contain my excitement.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Indeed, I’ve been watching through the drawing room window for your carriage.”

Mr. Yardley’s smile only grew. “I confess, I had hoped such would be your response.” He lifted his arm to her, and Grace’s heart hammered in her ears. Why was she so excited for him to offer her his arm? Perhaps it was because she felt as though he had denied it for so long. Lifting her chin, she put her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her out to his waiting carriage.

As soon as the door opened, Evie and Ari leaned forward, their pleasant faces a welcome greeting. “Good afternoon, Grace.” Ari bounced on the squabs.

“Good afternoon, Ari.”

Mr. Yardley handed Grace up, climbing in behind her. She sat next to Evie, allowing Mr. Yardley to sit next to Ari. Once they were both settled, he rapped on the side of the carriage, and they were off to see the garden. Grace nearly squealed with delight.

“Grace, we were so happy you could join us,” Ari gushed. “Indeed, I worried you could not come, and then we would be stuck seeing the plants by ourselves.”

Evie elbowed her sister in the ribs and gave her a dark look.

“What did you do that for?” Ari asked accusingly. “Do not say you didn’t have the same concern.”

Evie gave Grace a patient smile. “You must not pay Ari any heed. She does not always think before she speaks.” She flicked a scowl at her sister.

Grace tried not to laugh. “Do not fret, Ari. I know you meant to say that you would enjoy the garden more with someone who might share some information about it with you.”

Ari frowned. “No, I’m certain we will have a guide on our tour, will we not, Miles?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, Ari, we will.” He drew the last word out as if it were some secret code to his sister.

“It will be lovely for you to share your knowledge with us. But even without you sharing, it will be ever so much more delightful with you along.” She lifted her shoulders and beamed before turning a smirk on her sister.

Mr. Yardley crossed his feet at his ankles and folded his arms across his chest. “Why do you not save your conversation for the garden?” He said with raised brows. “Else Miss Jenkins might not accept our offer next time.”

Grace laughed. “Indeed, I should not decline such an offer. Why would I when I always have such a grand time with you?” Her eyes widened as she stared at him, and her cheeks heated at her implied meaning. “That is to say,” she stuttered, “when I’m with all of you, not just one of you or—” she frowned and cut herself off. She was just making more of a muddle of things with every word she spoke. She glanced up at Mr. Yardley from beneath her lashes. “Perhaps we should all take your heed and stay quiet.” He grinned, but nodded as she settled back and watched London roll by. The driver seemed to know it best to avoid Picadilly and instead took them near Green Park and St. James—a route Grace could not be unhappy about.

The carriage finally stopped in front of a rather ordinary-looking brickwork wall with a door. It was just as Grace imagined it to be.

Mr. Yardley handed out Grace and his sisters before knocking.

They waited a minute or two before the door opened, and a tall, lean-looking man stepped out. He looked from Mr. Yardley to the ladies. “May I help you?” He smiled kindly, if a little exasperated. “My apologies, but this is not a public garden. It’s intended use is for apothecaries and their apprentices. However, Hyde Park and St. James have some lovely trees that I’m sure you would enjoy.” He bowed and made to return inside the garden.

“Excuse me, but I was told to show you this letter.” Mr. Yardley held out a paper.

The man looked down at it, pulling out a pair of spectacles to read. He looked up, a new interest in his gaze. “This is from Sir Joseph Banks.” He tilted his head slightly. “How are you acquainted with the gentleman, Mr. Yardley?”

Mr. Yardley smiled. “I was fortunate enough to help his sister out of a most difficult situation.”

The man’s brows rose, but he asked no more about it. He glanced back down at the paper. “Mr. Fairbairn, the curator, is not here today. But I’d be happy to see you through the garden.”

Mr. Yardley dipped his head. “Thank you, Mr.—”

“Peters,” he said. “I’m part of the Court of Governors of The Worshipful Society of Apothecaries of London.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Peters. May I introduce my sisters, Lady Evangeline Yardley and Lady Arabella Yardley.”

Mr. Peters bowed. “My ladies, welcome to The Apothecary’s Garden.”

“Thank you,” Ari and Evie curtsied.

“And this is our dear friend, Miss Jenkins. She is a student of botany and shares your interest in plants.” Mr. Yardley said.

Grace smiled as her face heated. She hoped Mr. Yardley’s introduction didn’t set a false expectation. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Peters. Thank you for taking time away from your duties to show us the garden.”

He smiled. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Jenkins. It’s always a delight to meet a fellow admirer of the botanical world.” He motioned them through the door. “Please, follow me. There is much to see.”

“Thank you, Mr. Peters.” Mr. Yardley lifted his hand and gestured Grace and his sisters in ahead of him.

When Grace stepped through the door, she sucked in a breath. It was the most beautiful scene she’d ever beheld. Trees, shrubbery, vines, and flowers of every kind stretched out before her. Neat pebbled paths wound through the foliage in all directions.

To the right of her feet, she saw a small sign that read fevers . Grace could pick out the barley, peppermint, and the mustard plants. A blackthorn tree stood to one side, likely so as not to provide too much shade for the other plants. Each cluster had small signs with the plant’s common name and its Latin name underneath.

Grace took in a contented sigh. Lawks, she could spend days in this garden. Months even. It was a pity she only had two short hours. She looked over at Mr. Peters. “Do you press the blackthorn berry and distribute the sloe, or do the apothecaries pick and press their own?”

Mr. Peters smiled. “You know your plants, Miss.” He walked over and stood beside her. “Actually, a bit of both happens. We do not tolerate waste here in the garden. Therefore, we will pick and press what is needed to keep the tree producing. Or at the end of the season, we pick everything so the berries do not go to waste.”

She nodded. “A sound plan.”

They moved on down the path. Evie and Ari looked at the plants as casual observers while Grace and Mr. Peters chatted in more scientific terms. He was a wealth of knowledge, leaving Grace with the realization of just how much she didn’t know.

Mr. Yardley stayed quiet. Whenever Grace glanced in his direction, he seemed to watch her and Mr. Peters, a slight smile on his face. Did he find her lack of knowledge humorous?

She tipped her head to the side and studied him on the rare occasion he asked Mr. Peters a question. While she could not be certain what he was thinking—she did not know him well enough—she did not think his thoughts were of the mocking sort. His nature simply didn’t account for it. Perhaps he was enjoying his time in the garden. Indeed, Grace could not understand how anyone could not enjoy the place. It was calm and peaceful. The sound of the breeze flitting through the leaves was enough to bring joy to any heart.

“Mr. Peters, could you come for a moment? We have a most urgent matter for you.” A young man called from another path.

Mr. Peters nodded and sighed. “I’ll be along shortly, Mr. Braithwaite.” He gave a slight frown. “I should not be long. If you’ll continue on this path toward the glasshouse, I’ll catch up with you.”

Miles nodded. “We’ll see you soon.” He moved up beside Grace, his hands clasped behind his back as they walked slowly on the path. “How are you enjoying the garden, Miss Jenkins?”

“Oh, I adore it!” She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. “I’m trying to discover a plan in which I could come here often and study alongside Mr. Peters.” She released a breath. “But I think it highly unlikely.” Reaching up, she fingered a curl at her cheek. “Tell me, Mr. Yardley, do you think I could pass for a gentleman?” She was teasing, of course. But if she thought it could work, she would attempt it in a heartbeat. “Perhaps if my hair were tucked up in a hat?”

He lifted a brow. “Not even for a moment, Miss Jenkins. Your features are too decidedly feminine and lovely.” His face pinked at the last word, but he didn’t call it back.

She pushed out her lips in a pout. “It seems my luck is not improving this Season.”

He grinned at her. “I far prefer you as a female than a gentleman.”

“Thank you,” she twisted up her mouth. “I only wish there were a way for me to study here. But I’m certain they would not allow it of a woman.”

Mr. Yardley nodded. “I’m certain you are correct.” He frowned. “I’m sorry. There are surely many things you wish to do that you cannot.”

“Indeed, I should even be happy to attend the lectures. But alas, I am denied that also.” She lifted her shoulders with a heavy sigh. “But what I should really like to do is illustrate a book about ferns. But it is difficult when I don’t have daily access to so many of their kind.” She bit her lip. Why was she telling him such things? Philip and Elle did not even know about that dream. She cleared her throat and bent over, looking closely at the flower. “Look at this, Evie. It is a P aeonia officinalis.” Perhaps he would forget what she said, and they could move on.

Evie looked at the flower. “It looks like any other flower.”

Grace smiled. “It is a peony but of the European variety.” She gently held the stem of the flower between her fingers and moved it so she could see it from all angles. “It’s lovely, is it not?”

“Is that not a fern?” Mr. Yardley asked pointing to the side. “I thought I recognized the name.”

Glancing over, Grace grinned. “It’s a Maidenhair tree or a ginkgo biloba.” She stood up and took a step back, but her foot caught on the edge of the bed, and she lost her balance. With arms flailing, she let out a yelp.

Mr. Yardley lunged forward and grabbed her about the waist, drawing her to him. “Are you hurt?” He asked in a concerned, slightly breathless voice.

He pressed her tightly against him, his chest rising and falling. And his face…it was so very close—so close she could see the flecks of black in his dark brown eyes. How had she never realized how warm and inviting they were?

His breath tickled along the side of her neck as she held his gaze. “I’m well, thanks to your quick thinking.” Her voice was equally breathy and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

He stared at her as her pulse thrummed. It was as if it had joined the charge of the King’s Horse Guard. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? She need not even consider the question. It was a resounding yes.

She licked her lips at the thought, and his gaze followed the slow progression. Why was he hesitating? Perhaps if she leaned slightly forward— “It seems as if you are always to come to my rescue, Miles.”

He blinked three times, as if clearing a dust mote from his eyes. Swallowing, he frowned. His body released its rigid posture, and he pulled his hands from around her waist as he took a step back. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad no harm came to you, Miss Jenkins.” He smiled, but it was only on the surface. He took two more steps back and gestured toward the path. “We should continue on lest Mr. Peters arrive at the glasshouse before us.”

Grace nodded, confusion coursing through her. What had she done? Had he thought her untoward when she leaned in? Had she completely misinterpreted the situation? He must not have wished to kiss her. Oh, lawks! She’d even used his Christian name just before she had nearly pounced on him. What must he think of her? Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. What was wrong with her?

“Yes, we should hurry along.” She picked up her skirts and walked down the path, barely paying the plants any heed.

Two paths converged a short distance from the glasshouse. Mr. Peters was walking toward them, his hand raised. “Your timing is impeccable.” His eyes were alight with excitement, and she was grateful for the distraction. “I know I said we would tour the glasshouse, but something very exciting has just been discovered and I thought it might interest you, Miss Jenkins.”

Grace nodded, wondering if he could see the humiliation written on her face. “Indeed, what is it?”

“Something rather amazing has happened to a rhubarb plant. It seems a bit of rhubarb has grown up, even though it was covered for the winter with a bucket. It’s rather remarkable. I believe you’ll find it quite fascinating.”

“I should enjoy seeing it.” Grace feigned an excitement she didn’t truly feel. How could she after such an event had happened only moments ago? As remarkable as rhubarb was, it was nothing to almost kissing Mr. Yardley…Miles. She hurried after Mr. Peters, not even bothering to look at Miles. Indeed, she did not know if she could ever look on him again without blushing.