A Study In Seduction(6)
“Not as improper as what I might have proposed.” He almost grinned as her color deepened. “Still, it ought to give you proof of the theorem of my disrepute.” He tipped his head toward the notebook. “You can add that to column four.”
He knew he was being rude, but he’d spent the last two years holding himself, his words, even his thoughts, so tightly in check that something inside him loosened at the sight of this woman’s blush. Something made him want to rattle her, to engage in a bit of bad behavior and see how she responded. Besides, wasn’t bad behavior exactly what society expected of him?
“Do you accept?” he asked.
“Certainly not.”
“All right, then. I’ll tell John to take you home.”
He started to the door, unsurprised when she said, “Wait!”
He turned.
“My lord, surely there is something—”
“That’s my offer, Miss Kellaway.”
Her hand trembled as she brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. The brown strands glinted with gold, making him wonder what her hair would look like unpinned.
Lydia gave a stiff nod, her color still high. “Very well.”
“Then read me one of your puzzles.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He nodded at her notebook. “Read one to me.”
She looked as if she were unable to fathom the reason for his request. He wondered what she’d say if he told her he liked the sound of her voice, delicate and smooth but with a huskiness that slid right into his blood.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
Lydia glanced at the notebook, uncertainty passing across her features. He’d thrown her off course. She hadn’t anticipated such a turn of events when she’d planned this little encounter, and she didn’t know how to react.
“All right, then.” She cleared her throat and paged through the notebook. “On her way to a marketplace, a woman selling eggs passes through a garrison. She must pass three guards on the way.”
She paused and glanced at him. A faint consternation lit in her eyes as their gazes met. Alexander gave her a nod of encouragement.
“To the first guard,” Lydia continued, “she sells half the number of eggs she has plus half an egg more. To the second guard, she sells half of what remains plus half an egg more. To the third guard, she sells half of the remainder plus half an egg more. When she arrives at the marketplace, she has thirty-six eggs. How many eggs did she have at the beginning?”
Alexander looked at her for a moment. He rose and went to the desk on the other side of the room. He rummaged through the top drawer and removed a pencil, then extended his hand for the notebook.
He smoothed a fresh sheet of paper onto the desk and read her neat penmanship.
An image of her flashed in his mind—Lydia Kellaway sitting at a desk like this one, her hair unbound, a slight crease between her brows as she worked on a problem she expected would confound people. Perhaps it was late at night and she wore nothing but a voluminous white shift, her body naked beneath the…
Alexander shook his head hard. He read the problem again and began doing some algebraic calculations on the paper.
Odd number, half an egg more, seventy-three eggs before she passed the last guard…
He did a few more calculations, half aware of something easing inside him, his persistent anger lessening. He realized that for the first time in a very long while, he was rather enjoying himself.
Alexander scribbled a number and circled it, then turned the paper toward Lydia.
“She had two hundred and ninety-five eggs,” he said.
Lydia stepped forward to read his solution. A perplexing surge of both triumph and regret rose in Alexander when he lifted his gaze and saw the dismay on her face. She hadn’t expected to lose.
No. She hadn’t expected him to win.
“You are correct, Lord Northwood.”
He tossed down the pencil and straightened.
Lydia stood watching him, wariness edging her expression. Her skin was milk-pale, her heart-shaped face dominated by large, thick-lashed eyes. Her cheekbones sloped down to a delicate jaw and full, well-shaped lips.
She might have been beautiful if it weren’t for the tense, brittle way she carried herself, the compression of her lips and strain in her eyes. If it weren’t for the ghostly pallor cast by her black dress, the severe cut of which could not obscure the combination of curves and sinuous lines that he suspected lay beneath.