Minerva's Match Page 6

  “You in the gray waistcoat.” James pointed to the man. He watched as George looked down to check that he indeed meant him.

  “Oh, me! Sorry! I was wondering, you mentioned clover as a fodder crop, but could something else be used, corn for instance, depending on the soil? And also, did you explore the possibility of top dressing with seaweed at all?”

  “Any fodder crop should do as well, though clover has the advantages of seeming to replenish the soil.” Bloody seaweed? He looked at Minerva for help without trying to call attention to doing so. “As for seaweed…” She nodded her head yes as if she were a marionette on a string. “As a top dressing, it would be fine, depending on the soil.” He watched her as he named a soil type. “Clay for instance.” She nodded and then proceeded to pantomime something he assumed meant heavy. “It won’t lighten the soil, though it should increase the nutrients. Now with sandy soil…” He waited for her to make some kind of indication. And she nodded her head yes like some kind of manic chipmunk and started pushing her hands together as if she were kneading dough. He nodded back at her. “With sandy soil, it will act as a bonding agent, but it won’t completely ameliorate the nature of the soil. You would want to add clay and loam also.” That seemed to satisfy George, and he sat down. The next several questions were more of the same with James barely able to think and Minerva coming to his aid.

  It was on the last question that everything fell apart.

  He had the answer and didn’t need her to do anything, but he now found himself speaking to her. If he had been paying attention, perhaps he might have noticed as heads began to turn and find where his attention had strayed.

  “Hey now! Who is that?” someone called from the floor. Minerva ducked into her nest, and James leveled his harshest glare at the audience.

  “Who? Where? I will not have interruptions.” He pretended to search the audience for some miscreant.

  “Up there.” Someone pointed to the space where Minerva had been. Several men stood from their seats to look. He panicked when a few of the men went to the back of the hall to find the source of the confusion. He could feign ignorance. The worst they would do is throw her out, and she could just wait for him. It was the smart choice, but it made his bile rise.

  “Gentlemen, I beg your forgiveness.” Everyone stopped and stared at him. Bloody bollocks! He hoped this didn’t box his entire career. “I’m afraid you have found me out.” Minerva’s head popped into view and cocked to the side. From the stage, he could just make out the way her eyebrows had pulled together, wondering what he was doing. “You see, I have fallen for the charms of a woman. I’d like to present my betrothed.” Minerva stood suddenly, her mouth a perfect O. If only she knew the truth. “She wished to see me present today, and fool for her charms that I am, I acquiesced. I meant no harm. She was just here to observe.” Grumbles rolled in waves throughout the hall. A few words he was able to catch.

  “Irregular.”

  “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

  “Kind of plain.” That was the one that got his ire up. How little they knew.

  “Why don’t you come here, darling?” He waved her forward from the stage and watched her go pale.

  She squeaked a no and waved her hands in front of her as if to ward off the assembly’s stares. Truly, you’d think none of these men had wives and daughters of their own the way they looked at Minerva as if she were some rare specimen. “Please, dear? It will be fine.” He wished he could be as sure as he sounded.

  “Young woman, come down from there,” came a call from somewhere in the audience. He could see her swallow. And was surprised and a little pleased that she started to make her way down the stairs, which curled along the back of the hall. He couldn’t help smiling. What would these men think of the “little woman,” as one man had called her, if they knew she could slit their throats in the time it took them to swallow their baseless remarks?

  As she moved down the aisle, the grumbles turned appreciative. James had the irrational urge to jump down from the stage and put his arm around her, something to show she was his. Which merely pointed out how insane he’d become.

  She wasn’t his. Wouldn’t ever be his. He wasn’t even sure he wanted her. No, correction, he knew he couldn’t have her, so wanting her was no different than wishing to fly. It was never going to happen.

  Except a small voice in his head said she was already his wife, but trickery was not how one obtained a wife.

  When she reached the front, she hissed at him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “It is better this way, darling.” Dear God, let her play along. Wanting to bring a woman he was bound by love to was one thing; bringing a woman he was collaborating with on scientific studies was wholly another. But was it his imagination that she blushed at his calling her darling? Damn it, he wanted to do it again.

  A former president of the Society stood and walked toward Minerva. “I have to say, Lathrop. I think your finally settling down is a capital idea. Good for a man to have a woman’s care, especially when she is as pretty as your girl here.” Minerva visibly recoiled from the attention. Especially when others started yelling their approval too.

  “Gentlemen, please. I’m afraid Minerva is actually quite shy and had no wish to make a spectacle of herself. Darling, why don’t you go to the wings, just over there and I’ll meet you in a moment?” She looked like she would do anything to get away from the crowd.

  As he left the stage, the next presenter started to speak. James didn’t wait to hear what the man had to say and dashed off to find Minerva.

  Chapter Ten

  Minerva couldn’t breathe. But she had to live if she had any hope of killing the man. She heard someone running toward her and nearly fell into his arms as he almost collided with her in his haste. She wanted to claw at him, slice him open literally the way he had sliced her open metaphorically. For a moment, all she could do was pound uselessly at his chest. Finally, she managed to squeak out one word.

  “Why?”

  He pulled her closer to console her or more likely to silence her. After a moment, he stepped away enough to look her in the eye. Instead of words of comfort, or even apology, he only hissed at her to “Play along.” Play along with what? This lunacy of them being betrothed? He dared!

  “I will not…” Her words trailed off at seeing the éminence grise of their field approaching them. If James was an esteemed member of the Society, this man was a god among them. And he was smiling at her, well, them. The shock of it stilled her tongue. James sensed her shock and turned to hail the man.

  “Duckworth, my apologies.”

  “Nonsense, Lathrop! I just wanted to take the opportunity to congratulate you and your intended. Minerva, isn’t it?” He knew her name? She blinked at him uselessly. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, and they all seemed to get stuck in her throat, leaving her only able to nod at him like a dolt.

  “Thank you, sir.” James curled a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “I’m afraid Min is a little overwhelmed with the attention. Still, I apologize for the disruption. When she asked to hear me present, I let my vanity and ego get the best of me. But then, can you blame me?” He pulled her even closer and kissed her temple. “Please don’t say a word,” he whispered as he held her for a moment. She had no doubt that to the other man they looked as in love as James was pretending.

  She could only look up at James in wide-eyed amazement. Who was this man? Had lack of sleep driven him mad? Or was it that leading a double life had unmoored him from reality? She could only gape at him.

  “Well, I’ve known any number of learned men make fools of themselves over a pretty girl. I’m including myself in that list, of course.” Duckworth lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

  Perhaps she was still asleep. That was the only logical explanation. No one had ever remarked on her as being pretty, not Oliver, not the coal boy she’d been caught kissing under the stairs at Barton’s, n
ot even the other Heiresses. Surely, if she were the least bit attractive, someone would have mentioned it to her at some point in her nearly twenty years?

  “Felicitations, miss.” He turned toward James then. “You’ll see, marriage has a settling effect that will be good for your career. It is good for a man to come home to a hearty meal and warm companionship. Have you set the date yet?” The man acted as if he were the proud parent. This could not stand.

  “We aren’t—” Minerva started to speak when James cut her off with a tight squeeze.

  “We aren’t having a large affair. Not much family between us. We were discussing perhaps just doing something here. The rules are so much more liberal in Scotland.” Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at James openly.

  Duckworth laughed at James’ words. “Good to get her under lock and key before someone can steal her away. Am I right?” He clapped James on the shoulder. “Well, I expect to see the two of you after your honeymoon. The Mrs. is always after me to invite more of my younger colleagues around. She’d love the chance to have a celebration luncheon.” The man started walking back to the hall, but not before admonishing them to call upon him soon. She stared at his retreating back until the door closed between them and the hall.

  “What, in all that is holy—” James swept her out an exit and into the alley behind the hall before she could say another word.

  “There now, if you are going to yell you won’t give away the game.”

  “Game? Are you mad? Duckworth and every other man in there thinks we’re getting married!”

  “What would you have had me do, Minerva? Tell them that you were a full participant? That you are brighter than most of the others here? Tell Duckworth that women have just as fine minds as men, and it is a goddamned shame that as an organization we are too afraid of women taking our jobs, nay, even our sense of self-worth, because if they don’t need us to provide for them, surely they’d not even give us men the time of day, if we were to let them rise to the level of their abilities?”

  “You are a progressive.” Her shock was plain in her words.

  “Evidently. Believe me, no one is more surprised than I. As I saw it, I had two choices: I could disavow any knowledge of you and leave you to the mercy of the herd.” She squeaked in dismay. “Or I could lie. Playing on their sympathies, being self-depreciating at my lack of restraint when it came to a woman who I was to marry, allowed both of us to save face and get out of there without a ruckus. I have no intention of marrying, you or anyone. But it was my neck in the noose if you started spouting off that we’d been working together.”

  “Oh.” Rationally she could follow his argument, should even congratulate him on his quick thinking, but… The old hurts rose to clog her throat. The years of neglect at her father’s hands, Oliver’s betrayal, even the coal boy rejecting her when confronted. She hadn’t recognized the odd feeling in her chest for what it was, but she did now. It had been hope. Hope that some man saw her as something worth having, worth keeping. She had thought that dream had been snuffed out of her years ago. More’s the pity and more the fool her. “What are you going to tell Duckworth the next time you see him, and you aren’t married?”

  “The truth.”

  “What?” He couldn’t be serious? Why go through the whole charade just to sacrifice himself later?

  He gave a derisive snort. “That you are far too smart to hitch your life to a penniless academic like me.”

  “Oh. What do we do now?”

  “We”—he glared at her—“do nothing. You will go straight to the coaching inn and wait for me. Speak to no one, do you hear me?”

  “You forget yourself. I am not your child nor your intended. You do not get to give me orders,” she hissed at him, mindful that yelling would make them heard in the hall.

  “Minerva.” Dear God, the man growled like a feral dog, so why did she have the urge to pet him and soothe his ire? Ridiculous on her part!

  “Fine. I’ll do the best I can. What will you be doing?”

  “I’m going to go back in there and wait until they choose to award the scientific prizes.”

  “And when we win, you’ll come to the inn straightaway?”

  “If we win, yes, I will come there and see about booking you a coach to London as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, of course.” She stood, stunned. Of course she was going to have to get home and soon, since her father would be home in just a few more days. Yet she’d been enjoying this little adventure, getting to discuss topics of real interest to her. James might occasionally act like an arse, but he was an interesting, knowledgeable arse.

  In some secret place in her soul, she liked being held by him too, especially the effect she’d had on him in the dark. She was a fool to leave herself vulnerable to any man but especially so one as stubborn, pigheaded, and so very male as James Lathrop, Earl of Lansford. Yes, the sooner she was away from him the better. “I’ll be going then.” She suddenly didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, and she unconsciously reached for him before recognizing that was foolish.

  “Minerva, I’m sorry this didn’t end up the way you wanted.”

  Her shoulders dropped. How had she wanted this to end up? She’d wanted an adventure. She’d certainly had that! Wanted J. A. Lathrop to present their work, and he had. It had been reasonably well-received, and the members had asked questions James had needed her help in answering. They stood a good chance of taking the first-place prize, which they both needed. In truth, it was far more than she had a right to expect.

  So why did she feel all at loose ends and melancholic? Eleanor would be chastising her if she were here.

  God’s sake, she suddenly felt so alone. A sniffle threatened to escape, but she fought it back mercilessly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Easily said. Now, if she could just get herself to believe it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Minerva had been waiting at the inn for several hours. What on earth could be taking so long? She hadn’t been able to stay to hear the last two lectures. Could they have been better than James’? He had seemed rather scattered when he’d been speaking. She had hoped for something a little more dynamic from him. Perhaps he’d let her coach him so that he could speak more eloquently in the future.

  She sipped at her ale. It was the cheapest thing the inn served, and it held off the rumbling in her stomach. It had taken little of the few coins she had. Initially she had thought to save the money so she would be able to purchase food as she traveled home, but as the hour grew late, the chances she’d be able to travel at all grew slim.

  Bother. Now she was going to have to spend another night, except some small part of her cheered at not returning to her father’s tomb of a house. The innkeeper stopped at her table.

  “Where is that man of yours?”

  She wanted to shout that James wasn’t her man, but it wouldn’t do to have the man think she was a light-skirt either. “He had some business to finish up. He’ll be here shortly.”

  “Will you be wanting a room and some supper?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Her stomach rumbled loudly enough to be heard over the din.

  “That man should feed you. It doesn’t do to stay with them if they can’t manage that. I’d have thought him all right that way.” She had no idea what the innkeeper was talking about. “Usually we have a little entertainment after the supper hour, but they had to cancel tonight.”

  “Oh, what kind of entertainment?” She didn’t really care; mostly, she was just trying to keep herself occupied until James arrived. She hoped it would be soon.

  “A man plays the mandolin while his girl sings. It might not be a pantomime like in London, but the people here seem to enjoy it.”

  “I could sing.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, in exchange for a room for the night and some supper for the two of us.” The man’s whole demeanor seemed to change.

  “Good for you, lass. I can see nothing gets by you.
But if I’m feeding you both, then you both need to be part of the show.”

  Now he was just being a pip. “Fine, I can also do some juggling, and I can throw knives.”

  The man’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious?”

  “Entirely. But I’ll need different clothes. Could one of your girls lend me something for the evening?” She looked around at the serving girls in their lower cut country blouses and skirts and thought they’d be just the thing. “Oh, and we keep any money we get in tips.”

  “I had an arrangement with the man to split it.”

  “Fine, but we split sixty/forty, with us taking the bigger share.”

  “See here, miss.”

  “Did I mention I throw knives? I think that will bring in more people and they’ll be drinking.”

  The innkeeper rubbed at his stubbled chin. “Deal. And you’re about my daughter’s size. Come on back and talk to her.”

  Chapter Twelve

  James had never been so angry in his life. Damn the bunch of them, calling into question the work because of the mere presence of a woman. Good God, she hadn’t even said anything!

  He burst through the inn door and for a moment lost his bearings. How was he to tell Minerva that they had delayed making a decision until tomorrow? It was far too late for her to board a coach to London now. He wouldn’t leave her to the mercy of the road. He had very little left of the money he’d brought, and they were going to need food and a bed somewhere. His stomach grumbled and ached for lack of food since early that morning. Blast, where was the girl?

  “I’ve some beef stew for you.”

  He turned and was about to wave the serving girl off when he did a double take. “Minerva?”

  The girl who stood before him bore so little resemblance to the pulled tight, pale girl he’d first met, she was unrecognizable. This girl had those same opalescent gray eyes, but now they had some kind of kohl delicately lining them, making it hard to look anywhere else. Her hair was different too. More gold waves that made him want to thread his fingers through it.