Page 30 of The Botanist’s Improper Bride

Seraphina glanced around and then withdrew the folded paper from a pocket sewn into the lining of her pelisse. She passed it to Letitia, who opened it without speaking, then turned immediately to face her.

“What’s this?”

“The criteria by which I mean to determine a suitable husband,” she said.

Letitia shook her head, obviously amused. “My cousin certainly has an open mind. You can’t deny that.”

“He’s kind too.”

Not in a way that was outwardly obvious, but in a quiet way. He could be blunt and direct, but he never intentionally said a cruel word about anyone, and he treated all people the same unless he had reason not to. That was a form of kindness.

“I’m not sure I’d say he has a specifically modern perspective about women,” Letitia mused, reading the next item on the list. “More like it doesn’t occur to him to expect anything different from women than he does from men.”

“And why should he?” Seraphina demanded. “We’re just as likely to be clever as men. The only difference is that men rule England and therefore consider themselves better.”

“Shh,” Letitia hissed, glancing around nervously. “You know I agree with you, but some things are best said in private.”

“You’re right. It just irritates me. If I had been born a man, I could have studied chemistry and physics at Oxford or become a doctor. It isn’t fair.”

They were both quiet for a moment. They’d discussed the topic before and didn’t have any new ground to cover, but that didn’t lessen the intensity of the fury that sizzled through Seraphina’s veins until she was able to get her feelings under control.

Letitia cleared her throat. “A generous nature. Do you think that’s Trevor?”

Seraphina tilted her head from side to side, pondering the question. “I wouldn’t say he’s ungenerous.”

“I think in the right circumstances, he could be very giving,” Letitia agreed. “And as for the last thing on the list. He’s a future earl. You couldn’t do a lot better in terms of status.”

Inhaling deeply, Seraphina took a moment to appreciate the scent of fresh grass in the air and dispelled the last remnants of bad temper from her mind. She breathed in again and released a long, slow exhale that left her feeling a little lighter.

“I never considered marrying Trevor before now. It didn’t occur to me. But I don’t think he would interfere with my work because he would probably be too preoccupied with his own, and we could get along well enough.”

Letitia smirked. “If you married him, you’d be my cousin.”

“I like the sound of that.”

They walked for a while longer, and Seraphina was grateful to her friend for giving her the silence she needed to process her thoughts. Eventually, they turned and walked back to the carriage.

During the journey home, she tried to imagine sharing a life with Trevor, and it was surprisingly easy. They’d live at Nunhaven—at least until his father died—because he adored that place, and she’d never ask him to base himself elsewhere.

He’d spend his days in his office or outdoors, and she’d occupy herself producing quinine and continuing her experiments with willow bark. It would be more difficult to find someone to get quinine to those in need from the middle of the Lincolnshire countryside, but she had faith that she could find a person willing to assist.

The carriage dropped her off, and she wandered through the house aimlessly, but when she found herself outside the library, she walked in and flopped onto the most comfortable chair, resting her head against the back and closing her eyes.

All right, so she could imagine a life with Trevor. What about performing the marital duties? How would she feel if he saw her without clothes on? If he touched her? Slotted himself inside her?

She pictured Trevor’s earnest expression as he peeled her dress off. He would bring the same intensity to that act as he did everything else. She shivered, and a strange sort of yearning blossomed deep within her.

In her mind, she’d always thought of sexual intercourse as a purely practical thing designed to create children, but as she imagined Trevor’s clever fingers trailing down her front and venturing into the private place between her legs that no one else had ever touched, she wriggled, restless, and her breath came faster.

She looked down at her chest, surprised to find it flushed. What on earth was happening?

When she’d considered whether she could tolerate the attentions of other men, she’d always had a sense of either mild disgust or indifference.

This was something else altogether.

Drawing in a deep breath to calm her flustered body, she got up and went to the shelf she had always avoided, knowing the contents of the books there weren’t appropriate for young ladies. Her father had warned her away from them years ago.

Excitement rising in her gut, she slid the thickest one off the shelf and opened it.