Page 8

"Your Grace," she corrected gently, "I believe we ought to maintain proper formalities, given the circumstances."

He understood completely. He was a duke. She was a gentlewoman managing her family's estate, and thirteen years of silence lay between them like an unbridgeable chasm. Stepping back, he returned the journal to its place with deliberate care.

"As you wish, Miss Ashbourne."

Yet his fingers lingered on the leather spine, and he knew she noticed.

"That leaf structure is entirely incorrect," Mr. Aldwick, Julian’s assistant, declared flatly.

Adelaide looked up from the illustration she had been studying. Mr. Aldwick stood at Julian's elbow, his finger pointing at a botanical drawing spread across the library table. He was a slight, pale man, wearing an air of unearned superiority that often came from serving a prominent figure while believing himself equally distinguished by association.

"Incorrect in what respect?" Julian asked, his own finger tracing the fine pencil work.

"The venation pattern," the assistant insisted. "It suggests a subalpine variety, whereas this specimen was clearly collected at a lower elevation."

Adelaide set down her magnifying glass. "Clearly?"

Both men turned toward her. Julian raised an eyebrow, while Mr. Aldwick's mouth tightened.

"Miss Ashbourne," the assistant said, managing to make the formal address sound condescending. "You have been most helpful with the domestic arrangements, but these are technical matters."

A faint twitch appeared at the corner of Julian's mouth as he suppressed a smile.

Adelaide spread her hand across the table toward a second watercolor depicting a delicate white bloom. "This Sicilian mountain orchid," she said, addressing Julian directly. "You recorded it as gathered in May 1815."

"I did—near Taormina."

"That is impossible." Adelaide kept her tone even and conversational. "Mount Etna erupted two months prior, devastating the lower slopes and covering the area in ash through April. No orchid of this variety could have survived at that elevation in May. The specimen could only have been collected higher up the slope where the ash was thin—much later in the summer, likely August, when regrowth occurred."

Silence fell over the room. Julian stared at her, his blue-gray eyes fixing upon her face with undivided intensity.

"August," he repeated softly.

"At the earliest," Adelaide confirmed. "More likely late August, given the required altitude."

Julian reached for a leather portfolio at the edge of the table, his movements urgent as he pulled out a stack of loose, handwritten pages—his original field notes. He flipped through the cramped script until he paused.

"August fourteenth," he read aloud. "The corrected date. It was noted here in the preliminary draft, but the editor altered it to May to suit the narrative structure of the volume. I never caught the error during proofreading."

He looked up at her with undisguised astonishment. "You are correct. Entirely correct."

Mr. Aldwick cleared his throat stiffly. "A remarkable observation, Miss Ashbourne... for a lady."

The comment was a patronizing slap wrapped in polite praise. Adelaide straightened her posture, lifting her chin with the practiced composure she used whenever her intellect was dismissed in polite society.

"Thank you," she said, her tone turning icy. "I was unaware that my gender governed the accuracy of botanical facts."

"Now see here—" Mr. Aldwick began.

"That will be all, Mr. Aldwick."

Julian did not raise his voice, yet a sudden, razor-sharp authority cut through the room. He turned fully toward his assistant, his expression cold and unyielding.

"Miss Ashbourne has demonstrated a greater scientific comprehension of my work in a single afternoon than many established scholars have shown in years," Julian said. "You will offer your apology, gather your papers, and wait in the carriage."

"But Your Grace, I merely intended⁠—"

"You intended to diminish what you failed to understand," Julian countered sternly. "I know the habit well, and I shall not tolerate it. The apology, if you please. Immediately."