Page 61 of The Botanist’s Improper Bride

Seraphina gazed at him as if he was her savior, and his heart expanded, a warmth blossoming inside him. No one had ever looked at him that way before.

I can’t let her down.

CHAPTER 21

Never had Seraphina been more tempted to throw propriety out the window. She wanted to hug Trevor and maybe steal a kiss from the mouth that was set in a line of pure determination.

She resisted because she was in enough trouble as it was and saw no reason to add more potential scandal to the equation. That said, she could surely be a little mischievous without doing any harm.

“I could kiss you,” she whispered across the table of tea, scones, and cake.

He turned bright red, right to the tips of his ears, and that only made her want to hug him more. How had she gotten lucky enough to be betrothed to a man who not only believed her intelligent, but who also wholeheartedly supported her and blushed in a way that was surprisingly charming?

Any other man would have rushed to be rid of her, but here he sat, ready to make a plan to preserve her good name.

Trevor was one of a kind.

But because of that, she couldn’t take advantage of him.

“Are you sure you still want to marry me?” she asked.

His eyes met hers briefly before dipping, and his mouth hitched up at the corners. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

“It could cause trouble for your family,” she heard herself warn him.

Why am I reminding him that this is a bad idea? Idiot!

Trevor stood, rounded the table, and sat beside her. “We can weather it.” He hesitated, then took her hand. “I’ve never been one to flaunt the circumstances of my birth. It seems silly to be respected for something I have no control over. But I’ll be an earl one day. Emerson is a mere mister. If it comes to a matter of rank, then I’m willing to remind him of that.”

Seraphina wasn’t sure it would be so simple. While Trevor had a point that rank mattered, she doubted Mr. Emerson would have laid down an ultimatum without being prepared for the possibility that Trevor would try to use his status against him. But perhaps he’d never imagined that Seraphina might tell Trevor the truth, or that Trevor would choose to stand by her.

After all, the people he regularly spent time with weren’t known for being loyal—they turned against each other at the faintest whiff of scandal—so it might not occur to him that not everyone was so fickle.

Changing tack, she asked, “So, if we want to prove that my quinine hasn’t made anyone ill, where do we start?”

Trevor started to reach for his cup of tea, but since she was closer, she passed it to him. He seemed to have spent a lot of time handling it and had drunk very little. “How do you distribute it?”

“I have a contact at one of the churches. I provide him with the medicine, and he arranges for it to be distributed to other churches, particularly those in poorer districts.”

“Have you always worked with the same person?”

“Yes.” Once she found someone she trusted, she was hardly going to risk changing her approach unless there was no other choice.

“So we start with him.” He straightened, his expression brightening. “You’ll write a letter to your contact, and he can then send letters to his contacts at the other churches to ask after the people who used the medicine you provided.”

“A letter chain,” she mused. “Clever.”

He flashed her a grin. “Logical.”

Seraphina rose and crossed the room to a table, where she’d left paper and writing supplies in preparation for this meeting. She’d wanted to have whatever she might need so she wouldn’t have to leave the room and risk her father finding out that Trevor was visiting privately with her.

She wrote a letter, keeping it as simple as possible, then wrote out a copy, so she would have a record of exactly what she’d said and asked. She passed the first paper to Trevor and waited as he read it. Once he’d nodded his approval, she penned a second note, asking her contact to meet them at the usual place, and summoned Mark to have it delivered.

Suddenly hungry, Seraphina scooped cream and jam onto a scone and bit into it, enjoying the combination of sweet and tart flavors and the buttery softness of the scone itself. Her insides had been too tangled up to eat earlier, but now that it was sinking in that Trevor hadn’t rejected her, her body was making its needs known again.

“Is there a servant you trust?” Trevor asked, his eyes flicking to Bessie and back.

“Bessie, and her brother, Mark,” she replied, motioning toward the door to indicate the footman who’d recently left.