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He met his own gaze, then dropped his eyes, studying the elegant buttons of his waistcoat. A sense of disconnection rolled through him, and he turned his back.

With painstaking care, he removed the jacket, cravat, and shirt. Once he’d bared his upper half, he turned back to his reflection. His lower half was hidden beneath the bottom of the mirror, so he now looked more like the Trevor he was used to.

He stared intently at his features. His eyes were a similar shade of brown to the chest of the brown hares that roamed the Lincolnshire fens. His skin was naturally pale, but it had a little color in it thanks to countless hours spent outdoors in the sun. Freckles spattered the bridge of his nose and spotted the rest of his face.

Lifting his eyes to the top of his head, he noted that his hair was slightly overlong and was darker than his eyes, closer in shade to the bark of the English oak. He looked down at his hands. They were rougher than one might expect from an aristocrat, callused from working in the gardens.

He’d never thought much about how he looked before. He had no idea whether his appearance was pleasing to women. His mother despaired of his complexion, but she hadn’t mentioned anything else.

What did Seraphina think of him? Did she like his… brownness? Or should he introduce more color to his wardrobe like a peacock parading for a potential mate?

All of this was so confusing. Plants were much easier.

Irritated with himself for being so clueless, he unlaced and yanked off his shoes, removed his breeches, arranged his clothes neatly so that his valet wouldn’t be cross with him, and climbed into bed.

As he lay there, he closed his eyes and wondered what a life with Seraphina might look like. She struck him as a curious person, so he could imagine that she might join him in the garden sometimes when he was working. It would be nice to have someone to listen as he explained the science behind his botanical and horticultural experiments.

She would ask intelligent questions too. She might even point out flaws in his logic so that he could improve the integrity of his experiments. Hopefully, she would be amenable to living in the country for most of the year. He didn’t like the thought of wedding her and then maintaining different homes or having a stilted, awkward relationship where they got along because they had to.

Even if she married him out of desperation, he wanted them to be happy together. Deep in his heart, he believed they could be.

He slowed his breathing, trying to empty his mind in order to sleep, but no matter how he strove, his thoughts wouldn’t stop whirling, and he tossed from side to side, unable to settle.

Eventually, he threw back the bedclothes, dressed in a robe, and trudged through the sleeping house to his office. He placed the lantern on his desk, sat, and pulled open the top drawer. He withdrew several dried waterlily specimens that he had brought from Nunhaven and set one near the lantern.

Though he could see the specimen relatively clearly, he used a magnifier to examine the network of veins. He was curious to know whether the small details of waterlilies that contributed to their overall composition varied across species or only a handful of outward physical attributes.

He quickly became engrossed in his study, making notes about what he saw. When he heard footsteps in the corridor behind him and turned to spot a maid walking past, he jolted as he realized that somehow, hours had passed, and the light of dawn was already beginning to chase away the dark.

Groaning, he buried his face in his hands, his heart sinking. He knew he was unusual, and moments like this only proved it.

How could he possibly hope to woo Seraphina when there were hours at a time that he hardly managed to function as a normal human?

CHAPTER 9

“It’s unusual to see you ready to go out so early in the day,” Lady Wembley said as she blinked blearily at Trevor from across the breakfast table.

His father was still abed, but when he’d strolled past the morning room and seen her inside, he’d paused to wish her a good morning.

“I’m calling on Miss Dalton,” he said, leaving out the fact that he hadn’t slept last night. He might be an adult, but she was still his mother, and she was certain to have words for him if he admitted to having gone without sleep.

She paused with her teacup halfway to her mouth. “You are? That’s excellent.” She surveyed him from head to toe. “Might I make a suggestion about your attire?”

“Please do.”

He could use all the help he could get. He might have the advantage of being someone Seraphina already knew and potentially thought well of, but he would take any available advice because he wasn’t delusional. It would take more than that to win her over.

“Swap your coat for the dark green one. It brings out your eyes.”

Nodding, he asked, “Anything else?”

She sipped her tea, set it down, and started to spread a pat of butter on her toast. “What are you taking her as a courting gift?”

His pulse spiked, and his gut flipped over. “A courting gift?”

Damn it, both Sylvestor and Letitia had said something about that, hadn’t they? He rubbed his temples, trying to recall. Something about how gifts weren’t expected but could curry favor. Unfortunately, his sleep-deprived brain had forgotten all about it.

“Yes, often gentlemen will present the ladies with a token of their affection when calling on them.” She waved him toward the stairs. “Think about it while you swap your coat.”