“Oh!” came a startled male voice right behind her.
She spun around. Thank heavens they hadn’t been speaking aloud.
Elijah made a chagrined face. “I smelled biscuits, and I...” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with your father. I can go and entertain myself. I’ve neglected my research long enough.”
She blinked, then interpreted this for her father. “Research?”
“Oh.” A flush crept up his cheeks. “That’s nothing. It’s just...”
She waited.
“...botany,” he finished.
“Botany?” she repeated, unsure she’d heard him correctly.
Flowers didn’t sound like the domain of Gothic villains.
“How you feel about horses is how I feel about cinchona officinalis,” he said in a rush. “I’m a small part of the procedure, but I’m working with a chemist interested in furthering the experiments I’ve been conducting with dozens of important gardens, and I...” He took a breath. “...have been talking too much about botany. I’ll go.”
As she interpreted for her father, Elijah turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
With a wink, Papa handed Olive a plate of biscuits and returned to the kitchen.
She held it out toward Elijah. “Tell me about your gardens.”
“Well...” He began a head-spinning explanation of the various public and private gardens in London, what flora might be found in each, as well as their potential alternative uses.
She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. She’d seen gardens, of course—Cressmouth wasn’t covered in snow all year round—but she didn’t know a Strichno-thingummy from a Carapi-whatsit.
In the space of a half-dozen biscuits, it became charmingly clear that Elijah was right: He knew as much about plants as Olive did about horses.
Here was another intriguing contradiction.
She had thought him a fribble who looked like a farmhand, when in fact both were costumes disguising a studious, enthusiastic botanist.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m boring you.”
“You’re not boring me.”
He was making her realize there was a lot more to him than she had believed. Facets she might like to get to know. It felt like the earth was tilting.
“I’m missing an important appointment. I was meant to present a detailed plan for next year’s research to a well-respected chemist. Now there’s little time.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not used to not working. I have all my notebooks, but without any plants to observe...”
“Well,” she said slowly. “That’s not entirely true.”
“I saw the evergreens,” he assured her. “And I’ve jotted detailed notes on the phleum pratense—that is, the Timothy grass—your horses are consuming beneath the snow. I wouldn’t call it a garden—”
“—but I know where one is.” She leapt to her feet. “Come with me.”
He jerked back, startled. “Where?”
“Outside.” She pointed at the extravagant borrowed greatcoat hanging from its hook and slipped her arms into her own fur-lined pelisse.
She had meant to walk the mile up the road to the castle, but they exited her front door just in time to catch one of the local sleighs.
“Come on.” She motioned him to join her on the rear bench of the wide, open-air sleigh.
Elijah approached with caution, his eyes not on her or the bright red sleigh, but the glossy black gelding standing proud at the front.
“He looks like one of your horses,” Elijah said suspiciously.
“He was.” She flung out her palm. “Meet Prancer.”
Rather than nicker in greeting at the sound of his name, Prancer’s eyes tracked Elijah as though sensing his reticence.
“He’s not going to fly off like Rudolph, is he?” Elijah whispered as he joined her on the padded seat.
“Maybe,” she said cheerfully. She lifted her voice to Mr. Anderson, the driver. “How fast does this beast go?”
“You should know,” answered Mr. Anderson. “He came from your farm.”
Elijah turned to Olive with wide eyes. “Is it too late to throw myself from the sleigh in a dramatic, yet heroic effort to save my own life?”
“Too early,” she whispered back. “We haven’t started moving yet.”
He nodded gravely. “Let me know when it’s time.”
She hid a smile. Blast him. She liked him far more than she wished to.
He wasn’t trying to impress her, which was in itself impressive. By admitting his fears and perceived flaws, he was giving her power over him. On purpose. She could mock him if she liked. Make him feel bad for being who he was. He was putting the choice in her hands.
Trusting her with his true self.
Prancer ambled forward. Anderson glanced back over his shoulder. “I can scarcely believe you dragged this lady away from her farm during the busy season.”
Elijah blinked and turned to Olive. “I can’t believe it either.”
She swallowed hard.
She’d like to believe this outing together had been spur of the moment. The consequence of her father’s not-so-gentle insistence. But she was wearing a pretty morning gown, not her riding habit. From the moment she awoke, she’d been looking forward to seeing Elijah.
Of course, she hadn’t planned on parading through the village with him in the back of an open sleigh.
Anderson was right—this was Cressmouth’s busiest season. Witnesses abounded. Even though Olive intended to turn down Elijah’s suit, his interest in her—mercenary though it may be—was now public.
She wished he were here because he wanted to be, not because their fathers had commanded it. She wished she had been brave enough to accept a second kiss.
Three different friends had already waved with expressions indicating this incident would not pass by without comment.
Olive wished she and Elijah weren’t incompatible opposites in every way.
“Here we are,” said Anderson.
Elijah wiped imaginary sweat from his brow as they exited the sleigh, then lowered his voice. “Someone should attend to Prancer.”
Olive looked at Elijah in astonishment. She’d planned to review Prancer herself once she deposited Elijah in the castle. “You noticed him favoring his front leg?”
“I noticed a weakness in his extensor tendon leading to over-reliance on his suspensory ligament,” Elijah replied.
Her mouth fell open. “What did you just say to me?”
He widened his eyes. “Was it confusing?”
“It made me tingle in places I didn’t know I could tingle.” She crossed her arms. “You made me think you didn’t know anything about horses.”
“I told you I preferred not to ride them.” He offered his elbow. “I didn’t say I was unaware of what they are.”
“That’s not common animal knowledge,” she stammered. “Extensor tendons and suspensory ligaments are—”
“...the sort of pedantic details one might pick up in a book, rather than a hands-on examination?” His expression was amused. “I am a gentleman and a scholar. You have found me out.”