Once a Duchess(73)

 

“Look at these!” Isabelle walked to a long table where several potted violets were in full bloom. “They’re beautiful,” she said, glancing at Marshall.

 

“That’s a variety I developed myself.”

 

Isabelle looked quizzically at him. “How do you do that?”

 

“It’s a matter of finding different species willing to cross-pollinate.” His eye caught another row of plants several tables over. “Here, come have a look at these.”

 

The pots were larger than the violet containers. Each held a tender vine growing up a wooden stake embedded in the soil.

 

She wrinkled her nose. “Peas?”

 

“That’s right,” Marshall said. “But a new kind.”

 

Isabelle cocked her head to the side. “Why do we need new peas?”

 

Marshall’s mind kicked into gear, churning with excitement for his studies. “Our English peas grow lovely, large pods and are quite delicious. However, the plant is prone to a condition called wilt, which destroys entire crops.” He reached over the pea plants and retrieved another specimen from the back of the table. This plant was shorter than the others, and sickly in appearance. “You see how the leaves are curled in?” He pointed out the damaged foliage. “And this — ” He twisted one of the slender tendrils. It snapped off in his hand. “Whereas, the healthy plants … Here, you try.”

 

He gestured toward one of the pots. Isabelle twisted a shoot. “It doesn’t break,” she said. “It’s pliable.”

 

He nodded. “As it should be. The problem,” Marshall explained, “is that it’s not enough to get rid of plants with the wilt. The entire field — the earth itself — becomes diseased, and any pea plant grown in that same soil will become sick.”

 

For a moment, Isabelle looked thoughtfully at the peas. “What about your plant food? Will that help?”

 

Marshall smiled and shook his head ruefully. “Don’t I wish? No, there doesn’t seem to be a nutritive cure. However,” he said, guiding her down the table to another plant, “this is a French pea plant. It is completely resistant to wilt.”

 

“You mean it doesn’t get sick?” Isabelle rubbed a leaf between her thumb and forefinger.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then why don’t farmers grow these, instead?”

 

Marshall tapped the tip of her nose. “Clever girl. That would seem ideal, but see the fruit?” He reached into the plant and picked a pod, then held it against one of the English peas.

 

“It’s much smaller,” Isabelle observed.

 

“A farmer would have to grow many more plants to produce the same yield,” Marshall said. “So, what I’m doing,” he placed a hand on her back and gestured to yet another set of pots, “is breeding together the English peas with the French.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m hoping the offspring will have the best traits of both varieties — the size of the English peas, and the wilt resistance of the French.” He crossed his left arm across his body, rested his right elbow on it, and tapped a fingernail against his teeth.

 

Isabelle wore a look of frank admiration. “I truly have no words.” Her eyes ran over his plants, the results of his studies and collaboration with colleagues. “This is marvelous.” She turned to him. “Just think of all the farmers you’ll help!” She took his hand and squeezed. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, and a very worthy endeavor.”

 

Marshall drew her forward and ran a finger down the side of her face. “Thank you.” He scanned the interior of the greenhouse. “This is only a small portion of the botanical work I hope to do, but it is satisfying.”

 

Isabelle’s arms wound around his waist. She rested her cheek against his chest.

 

Marshall’s heart constricted at her sweet gesture. His arms wrapped around her in return. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then he moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed her back a little.

 

“Why have you been trying to avoid me?” he asked softly. Isabelle set her mouth, and her eyes slid past him. “No.” He squeezed her shoulders more firmly. “Look at me.” She did. “In case the fact escaped your notice, I intend to marry you.”

 

Isabelle inhaled sharply. Then she shrugged free of his hands and turned, strolling down the row of pea plants. She rounded the table and started up the other side. Opposite him, she stopped and touched a diseased plant. “Not a very eloquent proposal,” she said lightly. He detected something else in her voice.