My Fake Rake

Roses? Her mother didn’t give a fig for that flower.

Grace shot her mother a wry look. I know what you’re doing.

Her mother’s glance spoke volumes. So?

A moment later, Grace and Mason were alone.

They strolled toward the eastern side of the garden. She tried to bring herself to the present moment by observing the abundant plants around them—most of which she could not identify, signaling that they were species that did not originate in England—but all she could see was the look of tension on Sebastian’s face, and heard his words telling her that he was all too willing to forget their lovemaking so she might continue her pursuit of Mason.

She squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to silence her mind. But it was no use. Her brain, which she’d always believed was a beneficial and blessed organ, couldn’t stop tormenting her.

“Here we are,” Mason said, coming to a stop. He nodded toward a tree that stood about ten feet tall—it wasn’t very mature—and had long, glossy leaves. “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

“Quite.” She let go of Mason’s arm and rose up on her tiptoes to study the small yellowish oval fruit. “How fascinating it might be to see this growing in the wild, and observe the creatures that feed upon it.”

“So it would.”

The edginess in Mason’s voice dragged her attention away from the Spondias mombin. “You seem distressed, Mr. Fredericks.”

“Not a bit.” He flashed her a nervous smile. “You and I have not known each other for very long. That is,” he hastily corrected, “we’ve known each other in a professional capacity. My own foolishness kept me shrouded in a fog, rendering me unable to recognize that there was so much more to you.”

She couldn’t help it. She was too new at hearing herself complimented and a flush of pleasure rushed into her cheeks.

“Had I more time,” he continued, “I would spend a proper amount courting you. Wooing you. But, alas, I do not.”

“Oh, yes, you’re leaving on another knowledge-gathering excursion.”

“In four weeks,” he said. “There’s an expedition headed to Greenland. The purpose is to study Arctic species.” He swallowed. “Would you care to join me on that expedition—as my wife?”

“Oh.” No words or thoughts sprang into being. She felt as though she’d been dropped from a great height, and could only struggle to breathe. Her mind latched on to the only thing she could fully comprehend. “Are there many species of amphibians and reptiles there? I don’t wish to be without employment, in Greenland.” The Arctic wasn’t an especially hospitable environment to animals that relied on outside sources of heat.

“That’s what you can find out on the expedition.”

“Ah.” She could not find her balance, and the ground beneath her feet seemed made of shifting sand.

“As I said,” he went on quickly, “it would have been my greatest joy to give you a leisurely courtship, one filled with shared smiles and long letters. But, sadly,” he went on apologetically, “that isn’t to be. The ship leaves from London’s docks in twenty-eight days, and so I must ask for your hand in a less than ideal manner.”

She peered at him. “Are you looking for a research partner, or a bride?”

“A bride,” he answered earnestly. “You do possess a singular ability and understanding of natural philosophy, but . . .” His cheeks reddened. “I’m very fond of you.”

“Fond.” Not quite the declaration of love she’d dreamt of.

“Affectionate. Which, I believe, will easily mature into a deeper emotion. And I hope,” he added with a hint of bashfulness, “that you might someday feel such emotion for me. Can you?”

“This is . . .” Astonishing. Staggering. How could she answer? Her whole life would utterly change.

Mason, offering her marriage. The opportunity to study in the field. Granted, Greenland wasn’t a place she’d ever desired visiting, but chances to go abroad in a scientific capacity didn’t come around often. Here, she was being offered the prospect to do just that.