Page 51 of The Botanist’s Improper Bride

She laughed. “A lot of people would disagree. Also—” Feeling mischievous, she dipped her head nearer to his ear and whispered, “I think you’re very handsome.”

His eyes widened, and he reared back. “H-handsome? Me? I’m not stylish or⁠—”

“You’re handsome,” she interrupted. “Your eyes are a lovely, warm shade of brown, and if you’ll forgive me for being overly forthright, you cut a striking figure with your lean, strong physique. You don’t smile often, but when you do, it’s clear that it comes from your heart. You’re more appealing than you realize.”

“You’re the beautiful one,” he argued, the color on his cheeks deepening. “You must know that.”

She’d been told that before, but it meant more coming from a man as honest as Trevor.

“I think we could be very happy together,” she told him.

His eyes met hers briefly, then dropped. “I hope so.”

Struck by an irresistible urge to convince him that he was as desirable a partner as he seemed to think she was, she asked, “May I kiss you?”

He blinked, startled. “Yes.”

Her heart light, she stretched over and brushed her lips against his. They were unexpectedly soft, and he smelled of fresh grass and something citrusy. A ripple of awareness washed through her, urging her to grip onto him and never let go.

She knew deep down that they could share something special. She just hoped he wouldn’t hate her when he learned her secret.

“All right, that’s enough,” Letitia groused from across the room. “Please try not to fully discredit me as a chaperone.”

Seraphina smiled as she drew back, and when she saw Trevor’s answering smile, her heart gave a little pitter-patter.

Please don’t hate me.

CHAPTER 18

With a curse, Seraphina disposed of the willow bark solution that had failed to crystallize.

“I’ll have to try a different solvent,” she muttered to herself as she cleaned up. “Perhaps ether or spirit of turpentine.”

She rinsed out the containers, washed her hands, and turned her attention to labeling the latest batch of quinine that she’d bottled for distribution. On each label, she noted what the compound was, what it was used for, and when it had been made.

A knock at the door interrupted her work, and she took off her apron and hung it over the table, then checked her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was slightly askew, so she took a moment to smooth it down before answering the door.

Smithers stood on the other side. His nose crinkled, and he tried to look over her shoulder, but she positioned herself so that he couldn’t see past her. “Whatever perfume you’re brewing, I don’t think the ladies of the ton will be queuing up to buy it. Smells awfully… chemical.”

She grimaced. “I had a spill.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you might want to cover yourself with something that smells better because you have a caller.”

“A caller? Is it Letitia?”

“No, a gentleman by the name of Mr. Emerson.”

Her stomach dropped. What on earth was that snake doing here? Whatever it was, she didn’t have anything to say to him.

Well, not anything nice, anyway.

“Please tell Mr. Emerson that I’m not at home.”

Smithers shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “I’m afraid your father saw him arrive, and he’s shown him into the parlor and sent a maid to chaperone your visit.”

Blast. That meant she had no easy means of escape.

“Fine. Please ensure that no one sends a tea tray. The last thing I want is to encourage him to linger.”