Page 41 of The Botanist’s Improper Bride

Fortunately, the inside of the ballroom wasn’t as overwhelming as some he’d seen. The dark-paneled walls were adorned in shades of brown interspersed with cream. Dozens of candelabras illuminated the space with their soft light, and an orchestra was performing from atop a dais in the far corner of the room.

“Are you comfortable joining me for a simple country dance?” Seraphina asked as they approached the dance floor, winding around other guests.

He tried to breathe through his mouth so he wouldn’t inhale dozens of different types of perfume. “I’ve been practicing. I believe I’m up to the task.”

“I see Lady Carlisle,” his mother said, breaking away from them. “I’ll be with her.”

The music ended, and Trevor escorted Seraphina to a space between couples. As the next set began, he shot her an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I won’t be much of a conversationalist. I need to focus on where I’m putting my feet.”

“I understand.” She gave him a small smile clearly meant just for him, and his heartstrings thrummed happily. “I appreciate you trying. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“You deserve the effort.”

They started moving, and he concentrated hard on recalling where his feet and arms were supposed to be at each point in time. Once, he made a misstep and had to look around to see what the other gentlemen were doing, but other than that, he made it through without embarrassing anyone.

Thank the heavens. He’d been more than a little concerned he might trip or knock someone over.

“You did well,” Seraphina whispered as they headed toward a less crowded section of the room.

He was torn between the urge to metaphorically puff out his chest and the need to deflect her praise because he hadn’t done anything beyond that which any member of society ought to be able to accomplish.

“Lord and Lady Blackwell are coming toward us,” she added quietly.

Looking around, he quickly spotted the duo in question, recognizing Lord Blackwell from their years at school. Lady Blackwell, he remembered from the greeting line at her ball. She was fair and pretty, not unlike Seraphina, but with slightly darker hair and a more slender figure.

“Good evening,” Lady Blackwell said as she stopped in front of them. “I was so glad to hear of your engagement, Miss Dalton.”

Seraphina smiled, donning the society mask she was so adept at. “Thank you, my lady. You have no idea what a relief it is to be betrothed to an honorable man after being put through such unpleasantness earlier in the season.”

Lady Blackwell sighed deeply. “I can only imagine. I’m impressed by how strong you were in the face of his treachery. Many people would have hidden away afterward, but you showed you weren’t ashamed, and now, you have a much better man on your arm.”

Trevor’s face warmed, and he shuffled from foot to foot, relieved when neither woman seemed to expect him to say anything.

“I’m certainly likely to be happier now than I was with Beardsly,” Seraphina replied softly enough that Lady Blackwell had to lean close to hear her. Raising her voice, she added, “I believe that invitations will be sent in a month or so, but we’re taking our time with the preparations. Lord Blackwell, I understand you attended Eton with Lord Fitzgerald?”

Lord Blackwell, who had stood by as silently as Trevor, nodded and turned to him. “I was slightly older, but I recall seeing you around.”

From what he could remember, Lord Blackwell was never one of the boys who’d made fun of him. He’d spent a lot of time in the library, just as Trevor had.

“I’m afraid we never got to know one another well because I was always more interested in plants than people,” he said frankly.

Blackwell laughed. “Meanwhile, I always had my nose in a poetry book.”

Trevor dared to smile. “I only participated in social events when they were mandatory, or when my friend, Sylvestor, dragged me along.”

Blackwell grinned. “I think you mean that quite literally. I saw it happen a time or two.”

“I’m usually literal.”

“I was more inclined to be social in my youth, but I’m not as gregarious as I used to be.”

Beside him, Trevor was aware of Seraphina and Lady Blackwell exchanging a meaningful look, but he had no idea what this silent communication was about, and he would no doubt give himself a headache if he tried to decipher it, so he pretended not to notice.

“Once you’re married, you should join us for lunch one weekend,” Lady Blackwell said.

Seraphina glanced at Trevor, who gave a slight nod. “We’d enjoy that.”

The strains of a waltz rang through the ballroom, and Lord Blackwell raised his head. “Please excuse us. I promised this dance to my wife.”