"Angel's trumpet is highly poisonous, but also fragile. It will likely have to come from overseas, by boat. It's likely that samples will be damaged in transport, and those tasked with the job will need to be careful for their own health."
Was this what Lord Winters had been worried about this whole time?
He spoke with such care in his tone, a gentleness that Aurora had only ever heard when he spoke about botany. It was so clear how deeply he respected the angel’s trumpet, and indeed all plants, and it made Aurora’s irritation soften. If a man could care so deeply, he couldn’t be all bad.
He had brought up a real problem though, and it offered a welcome distraction from these veryunwelcomethoughts.
"I don't wish to dampen your enthusiasm," he said now, eyes dark and thoughtful. They were a lovely shade of oak-brown, warm and gentle. "I know how eager you are to get things underway. It's only that I'd hate for us to encounter such a large problem so early."
Perhaps she had misjudged him; his dark eyes held concern, unlike the casual confidence she had seen from him before. Awkwardly, he ran a hand through his blond curls as if in thought, and a soft sigh left his lips.
"We will figure something out," Father reassured — he was always the one to come to the rescue, and Aurora was grateful. "First, we should focus on finding somewhere to acquire what we need; perhaps they will have insight on how to best transport the plants."
Right. There was no sense in getting ahead of themselves, of course.
Yet, Lord Winters' frown didn't ease. If anything, it deepened, lips flattening into a thin line.
"Is there something more on your mind?" Aurora asked.
His gaze flickered over, and for a moment she thought he would say no. Instead, Lord Winters clasped his hands and said, "I'm only thinking, is all. Samples of the angel's trumpet — or indeed any poisonous plant — will have to be well insulated to keep it from posing a danger while in transport. Even the slightest carelessness could hurt somebody; of course, I would hope that people would be sensible about handling the boxes."
Aurora couldn't help her frown, or the way her hands clasped together nervously. Father found it distracting when Aurora fidgeted; but just this once, Aurora allowed herself the comfort.
Father didn't notice anyway, too engrossed in conversation to notice the way Aurora twisted her hands.
"I'm no expert on the plant, of course," Lord Winters added, "but I am the most knowledgeable here. If you'll allow it, I would like to be in charge of ordering and taking care of the samples."
He looked to her expectantly, and Aurora knew that she could hardly turn him down. TheyneededLord Winters, as much as it made her blood boil to admit. It was only because of him that she knew about the angel's trumpet at all.
In the end, there was really no choice but to agree. With a curt nod, Aurora indicated it was acceptable. It was one less worry off her own back, at least.
Lord Winters beamed, apparently happy with the decision. Aurora disliked how such a simple smile made her heart skip, but now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.
"If that's sorted," she said, "then we're already on our way to making this happen. I hope, Lord Winters, that you won't mind being under my instruction?"
If it had been anyone else — Mr. Buckley or his friends, or really any of the botanists she knew, they'd have laughed at such a silly thing. A woman, in charge of such a big project? They'd have scarcely believed it was her idea at all, never mind that she was capable of organizing it all.
Yet, Lord Winters agreed without question. He nodded, and even smiled, as if the answer were obvious.
Strangely, it didn't irritate Aurora as much as she expected. Rather, she felt a flutter in her stomach, knowing that the smile was for her.
Childish,she thought,to care so much about the approval of a man you don't even like.Before this, before Christopher, she wouldn't have cared about anyone's opinion if it wasn't her father's.
Those were thoughts for another time, though. Aurora took a breath, steadying herself, and stood from her seat.
"I think we could take a break for lunch," she said, while Father nodded in agreement. "Then perhaps we can discuss the building of the greenhouse; Father, you have friends that can help, yes?"
"Indeed, I do. I'm sure the man who built our gazebo will be glad for the job."
Although Father was still chatting away, he had his nose deep in a pile of letters. He had been steadily shifting through them this entire time, glancing up now and then to look at Aurora or Lord Winters.
It was disappointing to know he was so busy, but Aurora didn’t let that get to her.
Already, there was one thing ticked off the list. Already, Aurora was putting the pieces together, sorting them out by order of importance. The sooner they got started on this, the quicker they could get to the exciting part — growing the angel's trumpet.
It had beenyearssince Aurora had been this excited for a project. Years since she had been this excited at all. After a long time of going through the motions, she finally had a purpose again. New research, something that was her own.
This time, she wasn't going to let anybody else take the credit for her work. This was hers —and Lord Winters’ —and as strange as it felt to say it like that, Aurora found that she didn't entirely hate the concept of working with him anymore.