6 #3
Once again that elbow in her side, though gentler now, a slight nudge reminding her this was exactly what they had been waiting for.
Right. They had practiced this a hundred times, laying out exactly what she had to say—and what she shouldn’t.
It was time to dig for information, no matter how polluted it may be by the man’s own self-worth.
Iris carefully placed her teacup down on the low table before her, lest her hands begin to shake. Though judging by the man’s attitude, he would no doubt believe it was the gift of his presence that caused her bout of nerves.
“I cannot have failed to hear of your impressive collection, of course,” she began. “By all accounts, you have specimens from all over the globe, rare species that cannot be found anywhere else in England.”
The man’s chest puffed up. “That I do. I have spent an incredible amount of funds and time on it, you know. Lady Vastkern told you, I suppose, that I have not one, but three glasshouses on the west side of the property, all filled with thriving specimens.” He laughed.
“I do believe the only place that can hold a candle to my collection is Kew Gardens, if I may be so bold. My collection is so large, in fact, that I have two men, botanists themselves, in my exclusive employ to assist me in caring for it.”
“But you do more than collect, I believe,” Iris continued, hardly hearing him for how focused she was on sticking to the script the Widows had laid out for her.
“From my understanding, you also experiment with cross-pollination, not an easy field to work in.” The next words stuck in her throat, and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue.
“I have heard that you have successfully crossed Jacobaea vulgaris with the common daisy, achieving the goal of lessening the toxicity of the former?”
Something shifted in his eyes, his smile faltering ever so slightly. In the next moment that self-important smirk was back in place, but it did not camouflage the hard look in his eyes. If she had been standing, she had a feeling she would have taken a step back in alarm.
“Indeed I have,” he replied. “You are well-informed, Mrs. Rumford. How did you hear of such a thing? My paper has not been published yet, after all, and shall not be for several weeks.”
Words tripped along her tongue, and she could fairly taste the tale of how she had overheard the information while in disguise at the Chelsea Physic Garden.
But no, her emotions were making her careless.
She needed to focus, to stick to the plan.
Tell the man only what he absolutely needs to know , Sylvia had warned.
And be certain to downplay your talents.
No matter how much it may gall you to do so, no matter how difficult, you must make the man think he is the smartest one in the room.
She dropped her eyes to her lap, focusing on the white of her knuckles, praying the man would think the action demure and not what it truly was: a way to prevent him from seeing the disgust in her gaze.
With incredible will, she could succeed in reining in her tongue.
But no matter how hard she might try, there would be no hiding the emotions in her eyes.
“The botanical community, as you must know, is a small, close-knit one, my lord,” she murmured.
“Even for one such as me, who merely?.? .? .”—she forced the next word past her quickly closing throat—“dabbles in the science. And when one accomplishes something as incredible as you claimed to have done, word cannot fail to spread.”
The earl shifted in his seat, and Iris chanced a glance up, only to find him preening like a peacock.
“Well,” he said, no doubt trying for humble but failing horribly, “I wouldn’t say it is that impressive a feat.”
Which was where she should have assured him it absolutely was. But her throat finally succeeded in its rebellion, preventing the false honeyed words from being spoken.
Something Sylvia had been prepared for, no doubt, if the way she jumped in was any indication.
She tapped Lord Durand’s arm coquettishly, drawing his attention to her, and smiled at him as if he were a paragon among men.
“Oh, but after hearing my dear Mrs. Rumford wax poetic about it, I’m certain it is quite impressive.
Why, to listen to her one would think you have made the most influential discovery of our time.
” She tittered. Laney, at her side, winced slightly at the sound but held her smile firmly in place.
“Though Mrs. Rumford can be quite shy,” Sylvia continued, “she is incredibly verbose when it comes to her passions. Since learning she was to visit you, all she has been able to talk about is your work. I know she would love to see your glasshouses.” Her smile was sugar sweet.
“And perhaps, if you’re willing, your study as well? ”
He frowned ever so slightly, something like suspicion darkening his brow. “My study? I’m not certain there will be anything there that can interest any of you, my lady.”
Sylvia, however, was ready for that. She leaned forward, eyes wide with what could only be called adulation.
“Oh, but how can someone of your talent say such a thing? We would like nothing better than to see that place where so much of your important work is done. To have even the smallest peek into such a brilliant mind would be like heaven to us.”
Which was, perhaps, laying it on a bit thick, especially if Laney’s slightly ill expression was anything to go by. But it worked, the faint suspicion in Lord Durand’s eyes melting away, that nauseating self-importance back in spades.
“Of course,” he said magnanimously. “But how impatient you must be. And especially you, Mrs. Rumford, who has yet to see the wonders my glasshouses hold. There is ever so much to see if we are to include my study in your tour as well. Shall we get started then?”
With that, they all rose and followed Lord Durand from the room at a pace that was much too slow for Iris’s liking for all they needed to still accomplish.