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The Botanist’s Improper Bride

Page 2

by Jayne Rivers

She didn’t recall everything about the woman, but she’d had soft hands and a warm smile. Her mother wouldn’t have forced her to marry someone she didn’t want just because it was convenient to have her out of the house.

At times like this, she tried not to hate her father, but it was difficult to be charitable when he had the freedom to make his own choices and she had to go along with whatever he said or be cast out. She didn’t believe he meant to be cruel, but he was so afraid of his own emotions—or anyone else’s—that the end result was the same.

“Do you think you did enough?” Bessie asked as she put the finishing touches on her hair and held another mirror up behind her so that Seraphina got the full effect.

“I can’t be certain. I had to be subtle, or what I was doing might have become obvious to my father.”

Standing, Seraphina allowed Bessie to help her into her wedding gown. Once the back was laced, they added a pearl necklace, and then she donned the pretty matching shoes she’d had made for the occasion.

Despite the fact that she didn’t want to marry, she did like her gown. It was a pale, pretty shade of pink that complemented her fair coloring, and it had lovely puffed sleeves that were elegant rather than dramatic.

Part of the reason she’d been so successful at playing the part of a typical society miss was that she enjoyed fashion. People mistook that interest for general frivolity.

“Is my equipment hidden?” she asked Bessie.

In the event that the wedding went forward, she needed to ensure that no one accidentally stumbled across her secret stash of scientific textbooks and laboratory tools. Most of the household had no idea what she did in her spare time. She had convinced her father that she dabbled in perfumery, and she paid Bessie and her brother an extra stipend to ensure no one else found out differently.

“I’ve stored it somewhere Mr. Dalton won’t find it,” Bessie assured her.

“Thank you. Your loyalty means a lot to me.”

Bessie made a humming sound. “Loyalty is earned. You’re a good person.” She stepped back and studied Seraphina. “You’re ready. I’m sorry.”

So was Seraphina. But there was nothing else for it. She would have to go down and move as slowly as humanly possible toward the carriage.

Her father was waiting in the entrance hall, and servants bustled back and forth, no doubt running errands to prepare for the wedding breakfast.

He glanced up as she descended the stairs and nodded approvingly. “You look lovely.” He offered her his arm. “Come along. We don’t want to make your groom worry that you’ve run off.”

Actually, she wasn’t sure she’d mind that. Especially if it meant he’d leave too.

Heart heavy, she looped her arm through his and dragged her feet as they walked to the main entrance and passed through the door.

Why hadn’t she run away? Had she been so arrogant about her intelligence and acting ability that she hadn’t considered the fact she might fail to divest herself of her future husband?

It seemed foolish in hindsight. She wasn’t infallible.

“Now,” her father said as they settled beside each other in the carriage and a footman closed the door behind them, “I want you to have a successful marriage, so you need to do whatever it takes to keep your new husband happy. I know how pleasant you can be when you try, so try, and absolutely, under no circumstances, are you to let him know of your predilection toward academia.”

Seraphina sat on her hands to hide the way they trembled—not with fear, but rage. He knew she didn’t want this, and he was doing it to her anyway while acting as if he didn’t know that she hated every moment of it with her entire being.

It brought her a small kernel of satisfaction that he had no idea just how deep her love for so-called “academia” went. If he had any idea about the texts she had smuggled into the house and the experiments she conducted in the private dressing room she had requisitioned for making perfumes, he would lose his mind.

“Beardsly will want a son, so your initial focus should be on providing him with one. For that, he will, ah, take you to bed. I won’t explain further because I’m sure he’ll want that honor.”

Looking out the window, Seraphina bit her tongue because that was the only thing that could keep her from chiding him. It was just as well that she was scientifically minded because if she hadn’t done her own research, she would be blindsided by what the marital act involved when the time came.

“I’m uncertain whether Beardsly will want to stay in London during your confinement or retire to the country. Since there is no chance of him being needed in the House of Lords, either option is equally viable. Whatever he chooses, don’t quibble.”

In all of this, she couldn’t help noticing that he hadn’t said anything about her happiness. But then, why should he? She wasn’t the heir he had always wanted, and she was an ongoing reminder of her mother.

“I understand. I’m to be a biddable, obedient wife.” Her tone was laced with bitterness, but judging by his answering smile, he didn’t notice.

“Exactly. If you provide him with a son and keep him satisfied, I’m certain all will be well.”

It was as if he didn’t know her at all.

They rounded a corner, and St. George’s appeared ahead of them. Seraphina peered out the window, hoping she might see some kind of evidence that the Honorable Phineas Beardsly had scarpered before she arrived.