Page 1 of One Bed for the Bluestocking
Chapter1
February 1824
Edinburgh, Scotland
It was the worst idea she’d ever had.
That was the thought that kept echoing in Katherine Weatherby’s head, as repetitive as the bass line of Pachelbel’s famous “Canon.”As she was a contralto, Kate had once had the misfortune of singing that part with the girls’ choir back in her hometown of Boroughbridge.So, she was in a position to know.
As was so often the case with terrible ideas, this one had been the suggestion of her sister, Clarissa.
Kate was a watercolor artist specializing in extremely accurate illustrations of animals and birds.Last year, her father, a naturalist of dubious talents, decided to sell their family home and abandon his four daughters in order to embark on an around-the-world voyage of natural discovery.This left the Weatherby sisters in a state of financial desperation.During their scramble to find paid work, Kate had responded to an ad seeking a scientific illustrator to collaborate with a naturalist at the University of Edinburgh.She had not been selected at the time, but last month, the naturalist, Mr.Nathaniel Sterling, sent her a letter stating that the original artist had not worked out.He wanted to know if she was still interested in the job.Kate had responded in the affirmative, and here she was, sitting in Mr.Sterling’s office, waiting to interview for the post.
On the one hand, it was a dream come true.The position was a perfect match for her skills, and it could provide her with an opportunity to establish her reputation in the scientific community.
But the reason it fell solidly into the “Terrible Ideas” column of the ledger was that the post was funded by a scholarship that was only available to students of the university.And, of course, the university only admitted men.
Which was the reason Kate was dressed as a boy.
Whyhad she listened to Clarissa and answered that ad?It had seemed expedient at the time, as Kate and her three sisters had been teetering on the brink of homelessness and destitution.But that was no longer the case, as one month after their father’s departure, the Duke of Norwood had fallen head over heels in love with Kate’s eldest sister, Eleanor.Eleanor was now a duchess, and Kate found herself in possession of a dowry of twenty thousand pounds, for which she had very little use, and all the art supplies her heart desired, for which she very much did.
Why, then, had she come today?She had convinced herself that she could pull this off largely because university students were required to wear loose academic robes over their clothing, not only while attending classes but also around town.The robes should be sufficient to conceal the few womanly curves she possessed.
But there was more to passing for a boy than donning breeches and pulling her hair back in a queue.She could see that now.
Deciding the situation was hopeless, Kate reached for the portfolio she had placed on Mr.Sterling’s desk.She would just sneak back to her great-aunt Agatha’s house, and?—
The doorknob turned with a faint creak.Kate rose guiltily from her wooden chair and turned to make her excuses…
… only to be struck dumb.
Kate’s father, Kenneth Weatherby, was a naturalist.Likewise, all her father’s friends were naturalists.Kate was therefore intimately familiar with the particulars of the species.Naturalists were old.They smelled of linseed oil.In defiance of their specialty, they spent their days not out in nature, but slumped behind a desk, and therefore had the limp physique and pallid complexion of an underwatered plant that had been left in a dim room.They had a single eyebrow.They had hair growing out of their ears, and occasionally, their noses.
They were… not handsome.
Nathaniel Sterling, on the other hand, had broad shoulders, a trim waist, and a flat stomach.He was the opposite of pallid; he was a Black man with a healthy glow and skin the precise shade of warm brown as the sparrowhawk Kate had painted two summers past.That skin was so smooth and unlined that he could not have yet seen his thirtieth birthday.He wore his black hair, which curled into tight coils, cropped short.He smelled not of linseed oil, but of something fresh and sweet, with a slightly buttery undertone.He was in possession of a pair of eyebrows, and his nose and ears were decidedly hair-free.
Worst of all, he wasextremelyhandsome, but not in that London-buck-about-town sort of way involving a garish waistcoat and breeches so tight the wearer had to be sewn into them each morning.Mr.Sterling had a distinctly bookish look about him.Maybe it was the leather satchel slung over his shoulder, full, Kate could tell, of actual books.Maybe it was his tweed waistcoat.Maybe it was the ink stain on his thumb.
He turned to shut the door, and she saw that he had corduroy patches on the elbows of his jacket.Oh, dear!She had a terrible weakness for elbow patches!
“You must be Mr.Witherspoon,” he said as he latched the door.His voice was deep.Sonorous.
Well, there was nothing for it now.She would have to bumble her way through the interview as best she could.Kate drew in a breath and carefully pitched her voice toward the lower end of its natural register.“Yes, sir.”
He turned again, flashing her a smile, and Kate’s stomach did the sort of flip-flop that would normally have her asking the housekeeper for a digestive tincture.“Thank you so much for coming up from Yorkshire to meet with me.”
His voice had a musical lilt that she couldn’t quite place.There was a hint of a Scottish brogue, but there was also… something else.“Thank you for granting me the interview.”
He gestured for her to take a seat, then lowered himself into the chair behind the desk.“I was going over your original application, and I don’t believe you mentioned your first name.”
“It’s Christopher,” she lied, then hastily added, “but please, call me Kit.”Kit Witherspoonwas the name she and Clarissa had decided on after much deliberation.Hopefully, “Kit” was close enough to Kate that she could remember to answer to it.
“Kit.Very good.”He gestured to the oversized file that Kate held clasped under her arm.“It looks like you’ve brought your portfolio.”
“Yes.”Kate hastily unwound the string from around the button clasp.“Please, have a look.”
She slid the portfolio across the desk.Mr.Sterling pulled a pair of spectacles out of his waistcoat pocket and placed them on his nose.Something low in Kate’s belly gave a throb.Oh, but this was unfair!First the elbow patches, and now spectacles?Did Nathaniel Sterling possesseveryquality she found attractive in a man?
