"Ah, Aurora," Father said brightly as he met her on the steps. "You ran off so quickly, I thought you'd already made for home."
She smiled and shrugged. "I just needed air. When Mr. Buckley pulled out his smoking pipe, I thought I was going to suffocate!"
"I've asked him not to smoke in the meeting room before, but he never listens."
Mr. Buckley rarely listened, in all honesty, but Aurora kept that thought to herself. Anyway, she had more important things to discuss. The other botanists lingered inside, striking up small talk or discussing the meetings findings, so they were alone.
"I was thinking, inside," Aurora said, gesturing to the museum entrance. "I know that your interest in medicinal plants is more of a side-interest than your job, but I was thinking we could try to grow some angel's trumpet of our own."
Father raised a brow. "Oh?"
"It needs a warm climate, not one that England can provide — perhaps a greenhouse would do the trick?"
He seemed to think on it for a moment, lip caught between his teeth. "We have space in our garden near the gazebo, I suppose. I've been waiting for an idea to strike on what to do with that patch of land."
Her eyes widened, eagerness creeping onto her face. "Perfect!There are all sorts of plants we could grow, if we had a greenhouse; if one of those poisonous plants has helpful properties, I'm sure others will too."
She wished to grow the angel’s trumpet most of all, because she had been so taken aback by Lord Winter's artwork. It was so bright and colorful, sunny yellows and pale, delicate white. For something to be both deadly and healing all at once was intriguing beyond measure, and for it to have such beauty too… she had never encountered anything like it before.
Father seemed to take it another way, however, as his brows creased with concern. When he spoke, his voice was hushed; even though there was nobody around to hear them.
"Is this because you wish to spend time with Elmore?" he asked. His frown deepened. "He's a charming young man, I'll agree, but you don't need his attention."
Aurora's chest stuttered in disbelief. It was Lord Winters who was trying to impressher,not the other way around. What a ridiculous concept! With a roll of her eyes, Aurora folded her arms across her chest.
"You misunderstand," she said simply. Really, she didn't need to explain herself. "I don't care for Lord Winters at all, beyond his knowledge on botany. Besides, I'm done flirting with botanists."
Understanding flashed in Father's eyes. He knew exactly what she meant, even if they rarely talked about Christopher these days. In fact, after he vanished from London following the whole ordeal, they hadn't much discussed him at all. Ever.
That was fine by Aurora.
"Anyway," she cut in before Father could placate her, as she knew he would. "It will be nice to have something new in the garden, no? A greenhouse is unlike anything we've had before, and I think it will do us good. Maybe it will be so popular that the Duke will want one himself, although perhaps we shouldn't be putting poisonous plants in his garden."
If Father recognized her less than subtle redirection, he was kind enough not to say so. Instead, he stepped politely aside as a handful of the botanists left the museum, smiling as they passed. Then, he took Aurora's arm, and they walked down the steps together.
"I think it could be a wonderful idea," Father commented as they walked. They had hired a coach to bring them here this morning, but Father often enjoyed the long, lazy walk home. "But I already have a lot of work, at the Duke's manor. The roses, too — I think I'm close to creating the perfect variety."
So, he was too busy then. That didn't entirely surprise her — Father worked himself to the bone, too much in her opinion. If he had even a fraction of spare time, it was quickly eaten up by more demands.
"Well," she offered hesitantly, "think of it as a pet project, not work. It's been a while since we've worked on something new together, hasn't it?"
They turned down the street, coming across a small bakery. The scent of sweet, rich pastries permeated the air and made Aurora's stomach cry out. It had been a long time since breakfast at seven o'clock.
Father grinned as they stopped outside of the bakery. "Buy me an apple tart," he said brightly, "and I'll take you up on your offer."
Aurora's own smile widened as she bit back a laugh. "For the price of one apple tart," she retorted, "I'd say it's more than worth it."
They slipped inside the bakery together, and Aurora inhaled the sugary smell. There were fresh scones on the countertop, and pies in the window display — this bakery appeared to have everything, the shelved loaded with all kinds of bread and sweet treats.
"Hello," the kindly old woman chirped from behind the counter. Her hands were covered in flour, as was her apron. "What can I do for you?"
"Two apple tarts please," Aurora said kindly, "and maybe a few scones, too."
When Father rose a brow, she only shrugged.
"It's good to have some in case of visitors. Besides, if I'm going to keep bribing you with pastry, I should stock up."
Father only rolled his eyes, but it was a well-meaning look that made Aurora laugh.