to understand her. Not even her father could keep up with her computations and explanations, and he was a man. But what infuriated her was the fact that had she been fortunate enough to be born a boy, she would have been called gifted and allowed to study in the finest institutions and with the finest instructors in the world. As a girl, she was termed odd and secluded in her home until her father, Charles Grayson, fifth Baron Sytheford, could do something with her, which for years had been a problem without an answer as she was now nearly twenty-six years of age.
For as long as she could remember, Caroline had wanted to study botanical science with Sir Albert Markham at Oxford University, but trying to gain acceptance as a scholar had been the most difficult thing she’d ever attempted in her life. She’d known from an early age that being female was a hindrance, but she’d never expected Sir Albert, the greatest man she had ever read, had ever studied, to deny her entrance to Oxford’s Society of Botany strictly because she was female. Only two years ago she’d sent him a comprehensive letter detailing her work, her complete analysis of breeding techniques to create the precious lavender rose, and still he’d rejected her, his condescending letter of response implying she should stay home, marry, and grow flowers for her husband and neighbors to admire.
But from that crushing blow she learned her greatest life lesson—being female got you nothing in the scientific world, but being male gave you a chance. And she would succeed as a scientist, at Columbia University in New York, because she’d been accepted to study there by one of the best, Professor Walter Jenson. She’d been accepted to study there because this time, when sending her scientific data, computations, and information regarding herself and her experience as a self-taught botanist, she’d wisely presented herself as a man, Mr. C. S. Grayson. Being a woman would never stop her again.
Or so it seemed until now.
Everyone expected her to die a spinster, and that was exactly how she wanted it. She didn’t have time for an overbearing husband. She had her work, her plants and flowers, her dreams of study. Now it appeared they would all be tossed aside, for her father had suddenly, without warning, found her a husband in the Earl of Weymerth. A husband to whom he could, and would, gladly bequeath his most unusual daughter.
Caroline slowly stood and walked with wooden legs to the window, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at the garden where her dreams lay, her flowers bloomed into pinpoints of brightness and brilliant color in the cool, sunny morning. Until only fifteen minutes ago, her world had been joyous, her life rich with beauty. Now her choices, her desires, were melting away like the wax of a burning candle.
She had all but finalized her plans of travel to America, although she had yet to tell her father of them. She still wasn’t completely prepared, having notebooks and documents to update and organize, her emeralds to sell for money to book passage. Until today, her two biggest problems had been finding lodging once she arrived in New York, and persuading Professor Jenson to allow her to study with him and his colleagues when he discovered she was a woman. Because of these and other considerations, she hadn’t had the time or energy to deal with her father. Now she would have to deal with him on the issue of marriage, of all the blessed things.
Caroline knew she had to think quickly. Now more than ever she would need to call upon her superior intellect if she expected to get herself out of this mess, and if she considered her actions thoroughly, perhaps she could turn the situation around to her advantage.
First of all, Lord Weymerth was a gentleman. She could assume he would see logic since he, no doubt, didn’t want to marry her either. He had certainly said as much.
Second, it was already July. She wasn’t ready to pack her bags, in more ways than one, and she still lacked the courage to talk to her father, to sully his impeccable reputation by running off unwed and unchaperoned to study a man’s science in another country. She’d written Professor Jenson just last week to inform him she would be arriving no sooner than January, so she still had several months to plan, to think, to