At least he hadn’t laughed at her, as she feared so many would. “Yes, and I’m penning my own book.”
Violet held her breath and waited for his reaction. Her parents and siblings knew of her gardening and insect interests but hadn’t taken her pursuit seriously. They’d all decided it was something she’d put aside once she married, which she had no intention of doing, and the very reason she’d never mentioned that she was also writing a book.
“There are several books on plants already,” Lord Ferrard reminded her.
He was going to be dismissive as well. “Yes, I know, but not one book contains all information on a plant, and which insect is drawn or repelled by it. At least not that I’ve discovered. Or one that is specific to this region with regard to foliage, flowers, insects, bees, and pollination. I’ve made a study of each since I was a child.”
“If you’ve been studying for so long, surely you have enough for your book.”
Violet stared up at Lord Ferrard. Was he humoring her? He hadn’t yet in all their other discussions, but she’d not revealed her true passion until now.
“There are a few reasons,” she hedged and wondered if she should confess all.
“What are they?”
“I’m not certain such a manual would be published if it came from a woman.”
“You could use initials, though if you used your surname, others might speculate that a brother had written the book.”
“It is a concern,” she sighed. “I’m also not ready,” she admitted. “There is still much to learn, and what if I decide to publish and I discover something else that should belong within the pages? Frankly, I discover more each year. Perhaps it will never be finished.” Which truly wasn’t a hardship, as the book was a passion of hers and not for the purpose of publishing.
“You could write a second book.”
She’d considered that as well. “The truth of the matter, Lord Ferrard, is that I’m fearful that it won’t be well received.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “You, Lady Violet, are afraid of something? I thought you were without fear.”
“I fear inviting ridicule. I’ve suffered it enough in my life if you must know.”
Nor did she appreciate his teasing on this manner.
Yes, Violet knew that she was being overly sensitive, but when others judged her on her personality, it was easy to dismiss them, but to be judged on something she was passionate about, or worse, be dismissed, and if critics tore her work apart, it would be devastating. And what infuriated her most was that she cared what others would think.
“Anyone who would ridicule you is a fool,” he stated quietly, looking into her eyes. The seriousness in his features and the assertion of his tone was a comfort that she’d not expected to experience.
And for the first time, she needed to look away from him for fear that she’d forgotten to breathe. “Thank you, Lord Ferrard,” Violet managed to murmur.
“What of bees. How do you study them?”
His question startled her, as if he hadn’t just said one of the nicest things anyone could have ever said to her.
“I have hives,” she answered as she tried to regain her equilibrium. It wasn’t like her to feel unsteady by mere words.
“Hives? As in you harvest your own honey?”
“Yes, with the assistance of footmen,” she answered, feeling more like herself.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked with concern. “If they swarmed, they could kill you.”
“Not if you know what you are doing. I’ve made a study of the methods recommended by Thomas Wildman, and his hives, and they work quite well for my colonies.” Violet couldn’t help but grin as she was quite happy with her hives and the honey she provided to the family. And the bees were happy with her plants and the plants for having the bees. “Though, I will admit that I’ve suffered my fair share of stings.” She laughed. “However, people have been harvesting honey for centuries. It is not a new practice.”
“I find your interests quite fascinating, Lady Violet,” Lord Ferrard acknowledged with a positive nod of his chin. “If we were at Forester Hall, I’d insist you show me.”
A thrill rushed through her, but Violet set it aside. She couldn’t imagine that Lord Ferrard would have any real interest in her endeavors but was being polite. “There wouldn’t be much to see, as many of the plants and the bees are dormant. As such, insects are not active either, with the exception of some spiders.” She turned down the aisle, which shelved the books that held her interests. “I’ve not yet been successful in raising butterflies from cocoons so that they can live in the conservatory year-round but that is because I’m forced to attend the Season each year. If only, for once, I could be allowed to remain at Forester Hall in the spring, then I might meet with success.”
He pulled back. “I thought that you’d only enjoyed two Seasons.”
“I have,” she acknowledged. “However, I’ve been forced to London since I was four and ten, along with the rest of my family to take up residence in the townhouse, when my sister Blythe had her first Season. While I was allowed few outings, my brothers came and went as they pleased.” It was irritating that they were permitted so much freedom.
