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“It’s beautiful,” Robbie said at last.

“It really is,” Caldwell agreed. “See how it shimmers? There is no blue pigment. If you look under the microscope, you can see that the color is from the structure of its shell.” He gestured toward the brass microscope at the end of the workbench.

The boy frowned, likely not understanding what any of that meant, and Caldwell didn’t quite know how to explain it plainly.

Robbie pressed closer, nose nearly to the glass. “Looks like it’s made of armor.”

“It is armor,” Caldwell agreed, with a small smile.

“What about this one?” Robbie moved to the neighboring terrarium, pointing to a sleek, elongated beetle with a distinctive hinged body.

“This one is Elateridae. A click beetle.” Sensing the boy’s growing interest, Caldwell carefully removed the lid and extracted the beetle. “If you place it on its back—” He demonstrated, gently setting the beetle on the smooth surface of the workbench.

The beetle lay still for a moment, then gave a sharp click and flipped midair, landing neatly on its legs.

Robbie laughed, delighted, the sound ringing through the glasshouse like a bell. “It jumped!”

“Yes. A defense mechanism. Startles predators. And small boys.” Caldwell found himself smiling in response to the boy’s unrestrained joy.

Robbie grinned up at him, his earlier wariness forgotten. “Can it do it again?”

Caldwell tsked and put the beetle back in its enclosure, carefully replacing the lid. “Let’s not distress it further.” He hesitated, then added, “Perhaps another time.”

“Where do you find these beetles?” Robbie asked, now studying the shelves of specimens with interest.

“On expeditions,” Caldwell explained, walking alongside the boy. “I’ve collected specimens from all over England, and as far as Scotland and Wales. However, the ground beetle was a result of pure luck. It lived right here, in Devonshire.”

“Do you think we can find more of them?” Robbie asked, his eyes bright with excitement at the prospect of adventure.

Unlikely, Caldwell thought, given the beetle’s rarity. But looking at the hopeful expression on the boy’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to extinguish that spark. “Perhaps. If not this one in particular, very likely we can find some other types of beetles or insects.”

“Can I come with you?” Robbie asked, bouncing slightly on his toes, his earlier timidity completely forgotten in his enthusiasm.

Before Caldwell could answer, the glasshouse door burst open with a bang that made Robbie jump.

“There you are!” came Miss Hart’s breathless voice. The young housekeeper stood framed in the doorway, her dark hair disheveled, and her cheeks flushed with exertion. “Robbie, I told you—oh, I do beg your pardon, my lord, I didn’t know you were here—” She curtsied hastily, curling her smudged fingers into fists. Her fingers were often smudged, likely with ink.

Robbie shrank a little behind the workbench.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to take Robbie to his bath. He’s been avoiding it and hiding from me for half an hour.” That explained her harried appearance.

Robbie squirmed and looked at Caldwell with round, pleading eyes. Caldwell immediately remembered himself at that age. He had abhorred a bath. It was too hot, too small, and took too much time.

He did enjoy running water, though. He could look at streams and their little waterfalls forever. And he could frolic in them for hours.

“Perhaps, the bath is unnecessary,” he said, prompting a surprised look from the housekeeper and a gleeful one from Robbie.

Miss Hart glanced from Robbie to Caldwell, a question in her eyes. “My lord?”

“There’s a stream beyond the gardens,” he said, gesturing vaguely in that direction. “Shallow, clean. We can wade near the bank and look for aquatic insects. Water beetles, larvae.” He turned to Robbie, whose face had lit up with anticipation. “What do you think?”

“Yes! I want to come!” The boy practically vibrated with excitement. He looked up at the housekeeper. “Can I?”

Her face became even redder, if possible, than when she’d first appeared in the glasshouse. She pursed her lips but nodded. “You may.”

“Go put on your boots then, and meet me at the grand stairwell,” Caldwell instructed.

As the boy ran off, Miss Hart smiled. “Would you like me to pack you some towels?” She clearly understood his intent. Good.