Page 62 of The Botanist’s Improper Bride

Trevor leaned closer and dropped his voice. “You could ask one of them to look into the story about Emerson’s footman’s nephew. Mother tells me that servants gossip. They might know someone who knows something.”

Seraphina hesitated, a rock in the pit of her gut that she couldn’t quite explain. She was afraid that if she did that, somehow word would get out in the household about what she’d been doing, and then her father would finally learn the truth.

“I don’t know.”

He paused, as if taken aback. “Why not?”

“Because if they start asking questions, my father might notice.”

“Ah.” A furrow formed between his eyebrows, but disappeared a moment later. “What about if I ask our butler to do it?”

“The fewer people who know about me, the better.”

“I wouldn’t tell him why. I’d just ask about any illnesses in Emerson’s footman’s family.”

Exhaling slowly, she considered the possibility. If she agreed, Mr. Emerson might find out that they were poking around in his business, but surely that wouldn’t be a surprise. He must expect her to attempt to make sure his claim was genuine.

“Yes, please.”

His smile flashed again. “Consider it done.”

After that, they both fell silent. Seraphina’s thoughts had been all over the place, so she knew she had no chance of charting the next sensible step. Best to wait for Trevor to make a suggestion and go from there.

But he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “How are the wedding plans proceeding? My mother has been in a wonderful mood, so I assume nothing other than this has gone terribly wrong.”

An almost maniacal laugh burst from her. “No, other than this tiny little issue, everything has been coming along well. We’ve confirmed that the ceremony will be held at St. George’s with the wedding breakfast here afterward. The flowers are ordered—we decided on lilies of the valley—and the menu for the wedding breakfast has been set.”

“Excellent. Thank you for indulging her.”

Affection filled Seraphina, and she shifted slightly closer, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body. “It’s no burden at all. It’s been lovely to have someone who knows what they’re doing in charge. You may recall that my own mother didn’t live long enough to teach me about hosting events. I had tutors, of course, but it isn’t the same. I like planning this together with her. And thank you for being so… you about all of the… other things that have come up. For just accepting what I do and deciding to help.”

“Why wouldn’t I accept you?” He looked baffled. “You’re marvelous.”

“No, you’re the one who’s marvelous. Most people wouldn’t take everything in stride like you have.”

He shrugged and glanced toward the window, obviously uncomfortable with the praise. “I always knew that there must be a reason you wore a mask for society. I’d never have guessed this, but it doesn’t surprise me that you’re hiding something so intellectual.”

“A mask?” she blurted, caught off guard. She had the vague notion that he’d made some comment to that effect previously, but she’d never really dwelled on it.

“Yes,” he agreed readily. “You pretend. Most people probably can’t tell, but I’ve known you for a long time.”

She blinked at him, her mouth hanging open. With an effort, she clamped it shut and closed her eyes in order to gather herself. After a moment, she said, “You’re right. I wear a mask in front of others.”

Sometimes, she worried she’d been wearing it for so long that she didn’t know how to take it off.

How fortunate that Trevor could see through it.

There was a knock at the door, and then it opened, and Mark stepped through.

He bowed to Seraphina. “I have a reply for you, miss.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the folded paper from him, opened it, and read. “He’ll be at the meeting point in half an hour. Trevor, would you like to accompany me?”

His chest puffed out in an uncharacteristic display of masculine pride. “If you want me there.”

“I do.”

She turned back to Mark. “Have the carriage brought around, please.”