“Because neither of my sisters would be content to sit in some fancy parlor back in Washington and host teas.” Mikhail’s golden eyes latched onto hers. “One’s a lawyer, and the other is a doctor.”
“A lawyer and a doctor? But those aren’t womanly professions.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you insinuating a woman is incapable of being a doctor or a lawyer? Perhaps I shouldn’t bother to introduce you after all.”
She felt suddenly hot. She’d never heard of women in such professions. She could only imagine the ridicule she’d get if she returned to Washington, DC, and said she wanted to become a lawyer. Her father and brother would certainly kick her out of the house, claiming they wanted nothing to do with someone who would bring shame to their reputations.
“Are they... are they trained?” she rasped. “Did they go to school for those things?”
“Absolutely.”
“But... how?” And why did Mikhail want to introduce her to them?
“The same way you could go to school for cartography, I assume. Or botany. You certainly know enough about both to hold your own against any male student.”
“Women don’t become botanists. It isn’t done.” The words flew out of her mouth without a thought. She could still remember the first time she’d heard them. She’d been six, and one of her father’s associates and his family had come over for dinner. His wife had asked her a few questions, and somewhere during the conversation, she’d declared that one day she was going to be a botanist like her father.
Most of those at the table had broken out into laughter.
But she’d never forgotten the serious look in her father’s eyes. He’d known she wasn’t speaking on a childish whim. He’d known even then how much she loved plants and nature. So he’d looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Women don’t become botanists, Bryony. It isn’t done.”
Any time she’d brought up the matter afterward, she’d gotten the same response from her mother and her father. Then her mother had died, and she’d started going on expeditions with her father and Heath every summer. But whenever she brought up the possibility of getting any kind of formal training in botany, the answer was always the same.
Women don’t become botanists. It isn’t done.
But they did become teachers. And being a teacher meant she’d get to teach at least a little science. At least there was that.
“Tell me, do any of your fancy colleges back home admit women?” Mikhail tightened the drawstring on the top of his pack.
“Wellesley, but that’s in New England, and they don’t offer botany degrees. Most of the women who go there become teachers.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound like a good fit for you. What about the college where your brother studied? I assume that’s in Washington, DC. Does it have any rules about admitting women?”
“I... I don’t know. But my father and my brother would be mortified if I were to apply to my brother’s college. They work with other scientists regularly, like Dr. Ottingford. Surely you don’t expect me to do something that would cause embarrassment for them. Why it might even impact the funding Father gets for research.”
“That’s where you’re wrong again, because I expect your father and brother to support the abilities God has given you, not tell you to bury them.” He shut the top flap of his pack, covering the remaining opening so no rain or snow could get inside, then turned to face her. “That’s nothing but selfish.”
“But...” She kept her mouth open, hoping she could think of some smart response, but once again, nothing came to her mind. Her father and brother supporting her desire to study botany, or maybe even cartography? She couldn’t imagine such a thing, not in a hundred years.
“Here. Put this on.” Mikhail stepped closer, then draped the parka he’d been holding around her shoulders. “You’re shivering. These too.”
He handed her a pair of fur mittens, then jutted his chin toward the rock that was still in her other hand. “This isn’t the time to put rocks in your pack. This is the time to make your pack as light as possible and carry only what you need. If you want to get stronger, walk with rocks in your pack after you get home this winter, and start off with them if you go on another expedition next spring. But right now, you need to put every ounce of energy you have into keeping yourself alive.”
He took a step closer and started hooking the large, tusk-shaped buttons on the front of the parka closed, working from top to bottom. When he was finished, he stepped back, sweeping his eyes down her once before nodding. “That should keep you warm. Let me know if it doesn’t.”
Then he turned and was off, stalking to the fire without waiting for any response.
He grabbed some biscuits and leftover venison, then poured himself a cup of coffee. There was nothing kind in how he moved or how he interacted with the others, all of whom were now by the fire having breakfast and drinking coffee.
And there had certainly been nothing kind when he’d spoken to Richard and Father and Heath last night before he’d left to hunt.
But she couldn’t forget the kindness in his eyes a moment ago when he handed her the mittens and helped her put on the parka.
Who was this man with a heart of gold hidden beneath porcupine quills?
And why did she enjoy talking to him so much?
11
