A smile threatened in the corners of Mr. Ashton’s mouth. “I’m definitely not amused at all.”
Unsure of his response, she smoothed a hand over her dress once more. “Yes, well, better than Buttercup or Azalea.”
“Perhaps I should change my name to reflect my area of study too. Brucella melitensis might do.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked down at her thoughtfully. “Bacillus cereus sounds a little formal. Leishmania donovani, perhaps.” Though he said it without inflection, there was a hint of mirth in his voice.
“Leishmania Donovani would be perfect,” Saffron said, allowing herself a smile. “We might call you Donovan for short, and no one would be the wiser.”
“Considering that strain of Leishmania is a parasite that causes anemia and, in some cases, warty eruptions, I don’t think I’ll choose that one.”
Disgust warred with delight at Mr. Ashton’s deadpan delivery, and Saffron was almost sorry to see her mentor, Dr. Maxwell, enter the room alongside his friend, Dr. Aster.
Mr. Ashton leaned down to her ear as they drew near and murmured, “Dr. Aster, another aptly named botanist.”
She had said the same thing to Dr. Aster as a young girl during a rare visit to the university with her father, and she thought he still remembered her imprudent remark. Saffron stifled a laugh as the professors approached them.
Though the two men were similar in age, both being along the lines of ancient, they looked the opposite of each other. Maxwell’s fluff of flyaway hair and overgrown eyebrows made him look warm and grandfatherly, whereas Aster’s appearance was so polished and clean as to be severe, rather more like Saffron’s actual grandfather.
“Everleigh,” Maxwell said warmly, taking her hand.
Saffron smiled at the professor, not missing Mr. Ashton’s upticked brow at Maxwell referring to her by her surname. She loved it when he did; it made her feel as if she was just another member of the department rather than a novelty. “How was your trip, Professor?”
“Enjoyable as always, though one always forgets how exhausting it can be, entertaining children,” he replied in his breathless voice. “My grandchildren seem to think that I have as much energy as they do!”
Saffron turned to the other professor as Maxwell greeted Mr. Ashton. “Nice to see you, Dr. Aster.”
His gray eyes seemed to glint in disapproval, as usual. “Good evening.”
Maxwell scoffed lightly at him before saying, “Aster, you remember Alexander Ashton.” They shook hands. “Everleigh, you will be working with Mr. Ashton over the next few weeks to ensure he gets whatever materials he needs for the chlorophyll study. He is responsible for making preparations for botany since Chesterfield retired to see to his ailing brother.”
The sudden departure had left their small department scrambling, especially considering the expedition had been pulled together on such short notice. Nodding, she asked, “Are you on the expedition team, Mr. Ashton?”
“Not this time,” he replied. “Julian Ericson and Martin Gardiner will be collecting the samples for botany.”
The professors were absorbed in their own discussion of Dr. Maxwell’s fern collection, so Saffron, eager to hear more, said, “But you’ve gone on other expeditions, I believe. It must be fascinating to travel all over.”
“It can be.”
“What exactly do you study?”
“Bacteria.”
Unsure whether to be amused or annoyed at his sudden reticence, Saffron said, “I did gather that. What in particular?”
She thought she caught a flash of surprise in his expression before he replied, “I was developing a system of rapid identification of new bacteria. Because of my previous work with soil, they gave me botany when they divvied up each of the subdepartments for the expedition preparations.”
Now he was speaking in full sentences again, Saffron hoped to keep Mr. Ashton talking. She was here to hobnob with her colleagues and university higher-ups, but she did want to hear more about his experience in the department. “How did you come to work in biology? Or microbiology, rather.”
But dinner was announced a moment later. Her question went unanswered, as Dr. Maxwell offered her his arm and guided her into the impressive dining room, where a white-clad table heavily laden with silver and china shimmered in the candlelight.
Half of the table was filled with professors and researchers from the university, some with their wives, and the other half were administrators and benefactors of the university, like Sir Edward. Dr. Lawrence Henry, the man who was to lead the expedition team, sat at the center of the table. Next to him, an auburn-haired woman swatted his arm playfully. From where Saffron sat, it seemed that the woman had a great deal of skin on display, with only a bit of black silk with gold embroidery covering her shoulders and chest. She had a rather adoring look on her heavily made-up face. Saffron could understand the woman’s fawning attention. Dr. Henry certainly cut a dashing figure for a history professor. Blue eyes shone from a tanned, rugged face, and his black dinner jacket stretched tight over his broad shoulders. If university rumors were to be believed, he often received such admiration from women young and old.