Page 90 of The Botanist’s Improper Bride

“So she should,” Trevor muttered. He wasn’t pleased with his parents for leaving Seraphina to go on her own when he wasn’t back in time. He knew they wanted to stay out of the scandal as much as possible, but there was no avoiding it, and Seraphina deserved to have support.

The butler hovered in the open doorway, glancing about as if uncertain what to do. Letitia’s break in protocol had obviously thrown the poor fellow off.

“My lady,” he said, bowing to Seraphina and then again to Trevor. “My lord, welcome home.”

As soon as the door swung shut, Lady Wembley pounced on him, squeezing him painfully before turning her attention to Seraphina.

“Congratulations, my dear.” She released Seraphina and smoothed the front of her dress. “Come to the parlor. I’ve had a celebratory cake prepared.”

Seraphina cocked her head, a smile playing at her lips. “What if I hadn’t been set free?”

“Then it’d have been a commiseration cake,” Lord Wembley replied wryly. He inclined his head to her. “I see that justice prevailed.”

“It did.”

They gathered in the parlor, where Letitia insisted on a detailed recounting of all that had happened. A maid brought in the cake, and they ate while listening raptly to Seraphina, but then Letitia began pestering Trevor to fill in the gaps in his wife’s story, and he set aside the remains of his cake, knowing that he wouldn’t get to finish it until he gave his cousin what she wanted.

Eventually, the excitement of the morning wound down, and Trevor took the chance to speak to Seraphina privately.

“I need a moment to myself,” he said, keeping his voice low so that no one would overhear him. “I’m sorry, but today has overwhelmed me. I’ll be in the library.”

She bussed a kiss over his cheek. “Go. I’ll keep everyone occupied.”

He slipped out of the room and made his way to the library, where he drew the curtains over the windows and lit a candle in the corner. His favorite botany textbook was exactly where he’d left it, and he huddled near the candle, divested himself of his cravat, and reread a chapter about the defining characteristics of vascular plants.

Between the quiet, the dim light, and the familiar text, his nerves began to settle, and he became engrossed in his reading.

A while later—he couldn’t be certain how long—Seraphina padded into the library, sent him a brief smile, and began to peruse the bookshelves. He tensed, hoping she didn’t want conversation, but she must have found something that interested her because instead of talking to him, she sat on an armchair nearby and opened a black leather-bound book.

Hours passed, and Seraphina summoned a tea tray, but they both continued to read and enjoy their refreshments in silence.

When Trevor’s insides had calmed enough that he felt recovered from the morning, he finished his current page and set the book aside.

Seraphina glanced over the top of her book at him, one of her eyebrows hitching up.

“Thank you for bearing with me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion because he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d just read quietly with another person. It was lovely.

She shrugged. “We both enjoy reading, and this is a nice library. It’s not a hardship.”

She seemed to mean it. He really had lucked into an exceptional wife.

Trevor levered himself upright and walked over to her, his heart skipping as she marked her page, closed her book, and stood up to meet him, a scant inch separating them. His hands went instinctively to her hips, and he drew her closer, eliminating the space between them.

She tilted her chin up, her eyes twin pools of the deepest blue, and he delighted in the way they darkened as he dipped his head and kissed her. She gripped his collar, her bare fingers—she’d removed her gloves in order to turn the pages more easily—brushing his chest where he’d stripped off the cravat and undone the top buttons of his shirt.

He crowded her backward, stealing one kiss and then another until the backs of her thighs hit a desk, and they couldn’t go any farther.

“This isn’t too much?” she asked as she pressed closer, rocking slightly against his thickening cock.

“With you? Never.”

Her teeth scraped over her lower lip, and she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I have this book, and it shows… Well, is it true that a man and woman can make love with the man standing and the woman sitting on something like, say, this desk?”

The question startled a laugh from him. “What kind of books are you reading?”

She gazed up at him innocently. “The educational kind.”

He shook his head, smiling ridiculously. Clearly, Mr. Dalton wasn’t careful about what found its way into his library.