Page 22

"Every field journal, pressed specimen, chart, and artifact Thomas and I gathered across four continents," Julian said, his eyes darkening. "They would surrender the work to committee members who have never gathered a bloom or cataloged a living species—men who view the archive merely as a financial asset."

"They would seize all of Thomas's work."

"Thomas's work and Thomas's dream—the conservatory he envisioned when he was sixteen, standing in the Ashwood meadow and declaring that beauty belonged to the world." Julian's voice strained briefly before he mastered it. "I shall not permit them to take it. I have failed him in other ways, but I shall not fail him in this."

A quiet ache bloomed behind Adelaide's ribs as she drew a slow breath.

"You state that you require a duchess," she said carefully. "You have not explained why you require me."

Julian stepped toward her until she could clearly see the faint silver scars marking his right hand.

"I require a duchess I trust implicitly," he said. "Someone who will prevent the collection from being sold, neglected, or locked away. Someone who understands what Thomas built and why it matters."

"And you believe I am that person."

"I do not merely believe it; I know it." He met her gaze without flinching. "You are the only person beyond my family who shared that vision, Adelaide. You read Thomas's field notes, corrected his errors, and studied his botanical texts because you wished to follow his work. You understood his purpose."

The truth of his words struck her deeply, giving voice to a quiet devotion she had carried in silence for thirteen years.

"You are asking for my hand," she said slowly, "because my knowledge makes me useful."

"I am asking because you are extraordinary," he countered, his tone turning rough with sudden intensity. "And because I spent thirteen years being too blind to recognize it."

Adelaide pressed her trembling hands flat against the mahogany wood behind her.

If I were to accept, she thought, feeling strangely fragile, what would become of Ashwood?

Julian's expression relaxed, the rigid line of his jaw softening with unexpected warmth as it dawned on him what she was thinking. "Ashwood's debts would be cleared immediately. The roof repaired, the masonry restored, and the tenant rents reduced to a fair assessment rather than the inflated sums your aunt extracted to finance her London Seasons."

Adelaide blinked in surprise. "You are aware of the estate's financial strain?"

"I am aware of the roof, the stonework, and the way your aunt drained the estate while leaving you to manage the consequences alone," Julian replied quietly. "As my duchess, those burdens would be lifted permanently. You would never again be forced to choose between your tenants' welfare and your own."

A sudden sting of emotion pressed behind Adelaide's eyes, and she turned her gaze toward the rows of leather-bound volumes lining the library walls. I shall not weep, she told herself firmly. I shall not.

"You have been inquiring into my private affairs," she remarked, keeping her voice steady.

"I have been paying attention," he corrected gently.

"Is there a difference?"

"I have paid attention since the moment I walked into your study and discovered the household ledgers sitting beside my published journal, filled with your marginal corrections." He paused. "I noticed everything, Adelaide."

She turned back to face him, searching his features for cold obligation or patronizing pity. She found neither. His blue-gray eyes met hers with quiet sincerity, looking at her with undivided focus, as though seeing her clearly for the first time in years.

After thirty years of making herself useful and remaining behind, no one had ever looked at her with such singular attention.

"You ought to understand," Julian added carefully, "that I am not offering a romantic courtship."

A faint, wry smile touched her lips. "I hardly anticipated one, considering you are proposing in a library without flowers, poetry, or getting on one knee."

"I offer a marriage of convenience," he continued, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly in response to her humor. "Built upon mutual respect, practical security, and companionship."

"Companionship," she repeated.

"Yes."

"With a nobleman departing for the Lycian coast in two months' time."