A Flower for the Queen: A Historical Novel by Caroline Vermalle, Ryan von Ruben

I guess.”
    “Forgive Mr Willmer’s pragmatism, Mr Masson,” Schelling interjected. “He is not a man of science, not a collector so much as a trader.”
    “Oh, I see. So what do you specialise in, Mr Willmer?” asked Masson.
    “I also collect and sell God’s creatures, Mr Masson, not as pretty as flowers I will grant you, but much more profitable, I am sure.”
    “So you are in livestock?” Masson offered when nothing more was forthcoming.
    “Slaves, Mr Masson,” Schelling interjected on the Dutchman’s behalf. “You can find all the flowers you like, but they won’t pick themselves.”
    Before Masson could respond, Reinhold Forster sauntered up to the trio, his head held further back than seemed physically possible as he struggled in vain to look down on the towering Dutchman.
    “Well, well, well. It seems you do have a talent for finding a way into places above your station, Mr Masson. Did you know, gentlemen,’ he asked Schelling and Willmer, his teeth shaded a deep purple by the red wine which now slurred his words, “that whilst we have been tasked by the King with expanding the very horizons of our world and furthering man’s understanding of the natural sciences, Mr Masson here has been sent on a very secret mission to dig around in the Cape’s flower beds.”
    Schelling turned to Masson with a quizzical look. “A secret mission? You should be careful, Mr Masson. Secrets are frowned upon in this part of the world — they almost always will get you into trouble.”
    Masson felt himself being pushed into a corner and was unnerved by the interest that Schelling was showing. “I assure you, Mr Schelling, there is nothing at all secret about my mission here. It might seem trivial to some,” Masson said, casting a bitter look at Forster, “but Sir Joseph has tasked me with finding a certain flower that the King wishes to have named after the Queen.”
    “Well, we are blessed to have such esteemed company this evening, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Willmer?” Schelling said expansively. “Mr Forster here is on a quest to expand the King’s domain whilst Mr Masson has been tasked with finding the key to the Queen’s affections.” Masson felt the weight of the same appraising look that Schelling had laid on him in Cook’s quarters aboard the Resolution , only this time it was followed by something more calculating. “If I were a betting man, I know which horse I would be backing.”
    Before Masson could savour the moment, he saw Captain Cook storming towards the group with one of his lieutenants following close behind. He wondered if he had yet again done something to incur the Captain’s wrath, but it was not Masson that Cook was after. “Mr Forster,” Cook hissed. “If I may have a word with you, sir.”
    Forster swivelled his head round to look at the captain. Even in his inebriated state, it must have been clear that there was trouble — and yet, here on dry land in gentler company, he was even more reluctant than usual to be ordered around. “I don’t know, Captain, I’m having such a good time as it is. It seems that our Mr Masson here been guarding quite a secret.”
    “If only the same could be said of you, sir,” Cook said through clenched teeth. “Now, Mr Forster, I really must insist.” Masson saw Forster’s eyes move from Cook’s furious visage to his lieutenant’s eager hand, planted firmly on the hilt of his sabre.
    “Well, I suppose I could spare a moment. Please excuse me, gentlemen.” Cook’s lieutenant took Forster by the elbow and marched him out of earshot in the direction of the menagerie as Schelling and Willmer looked on with interest.
    “Mr Masson,” said Cook, suppressed rage radiating from him like a furnace, “I wonder if you would be kind enough to join us for another little talk with Mr Forster, only this time I would prefer if it were done without an audience.”
    Masson excused himself and followed Cook in the direction of the menagerie as the