A Study In Seduction(62)



“Do you go back often?” Lydia asked, glancing at Sebastian, who sat to her right. “To St. Petersburg, I mean?”

His expression clouded. He shook his head and reached for his glass.

“Like Papa, we visited quite often when we were children,” Talia said, her voice a bit too bright. “It was a second home to us. Our brother Darius still lives there. Lovely city, Miss Kellaway. You must visit one day. You’d find a number of fellow scholars, I’m quite sure.”

“What is it like?” Lydia asked.

Silence fell. The three siblings exchanged glances, as if each waited for the other to speak. As if none knew how to answer her simple question. Alexander shrugged.

“Cold winters.” His voice vibrated with something distant, foreign. “That’s what it’s like. A bitter cold that steals your breath. Snow piles everywhere, ice covers the windows, the river and canals freeze layers thick. Polar winds are as sharp as glass and drive gusts of snow through the streets. Darkness sets in midafternoon and doesn’t lift until morning. The ice doesn’t thaw until May. Sometimes it seems as if winter will never end.”

“Not all that pleasant, eh?” Castleford remarked. “D’you know I’ve never been?”

“Really?” Talia looked at him. “Haven’t you been everywhere?”

“I prefer warmer climes, my lady, especially if St. Petersburg is buried under a layer of ice six months out of the year.”

“That’s when you learn another way of living,” Alexander said. His gaze came to rest on Lydia, and then it seemed as if he spoke only to her. “In winter, the sound of troika bells replaces summer birdsong. Candlelight fills the churches, and well-tended stoves keep the houses warm. The theaters host concerts, plays, and operas. There are sleigh races on the frozen Neva. The city holds festivals with music, dancing, skating, puppet shows, ice palaces, vendors selling hot tea and pastries. You can lose yourself in the Hermitage, the cathedrals, the academies. And when you don’t want to be lost, you can find yourself in the white darkness. In the silence.”

An emotion passed across his face that Lydia did not recognize, something solitary and bleak, as if he had lost something of value and had no idea where to begin looking for it.

“Quite right, Northwood,” Rushton muttered.

“Well.” Alexander forced a smile. “I suppose one can find similar amusements anywhere.”

“No.” Talia put her hand over his, her voice soft. “Not anywhere.”

Rushton cleared his throat and stood, clapping his hands to break the solemn mood. “Coffee in the drawing room. And let’s find out if Miss Kellaway is truly the brilliant scholar she claims to be.”

Lydia looked at Alexander, but he only shrugged and indicated that they should accompany the earl. After they were seated in the drawing room, Rushton rummaged through a stack of books on a table and produced a folded paper.

“And now, Miss Kellaway.” The earl placed his reading glasses on his nose and peered at her over the rims. “Your sister recently informed me that the puzzle does not exist that you cannot solve. So I set forth to find one of substantial difficulty, which took me no small degree of research. I daresay, without meaning to impugn your intelligence, this simply cannot be done.”

A hush fell over the company, as if the earl had just thrown down a gauntlet. A sense of pride—of challenge—rose in Lydia.

She extended a hand to Lord Rushton. “May I see the problem, my lord?”

The earl gave the paper an irritated shake but allowed her to take it from him. “You cannot solve such a puzzle with mathematics. This is a trick of some sort.”

“Read it aloud, if you would, Miss Kellaway,” Sebastian suggested.

“Take a number of persons not exceeding nine,” Lydia read. “After you leave the room, one person puts a ring upon his finger. Upon returning, you must determine the wearer of the ring, the hand upon which it rests, and the specific finger and joint.”

The earl spread his hands. “I swear it cannot be done.”

Lydia studied the problem, her mind working around the idea for several minutes before she looked up. “Actually, my lord, this is an application involving the determination of a number fixed upon. It’s a bit of a trick using the principles of arithmetic.”

“Show us.” Alexander stood, extending a hand to Talia. “Might we borrow a ring?”

“My rings won’t fit any of your fingers, which isn’t fair for the puzzle.” Talia glanced around the room and went to a vase from which a spray of spring flowers bloomed. She removed a primrose and broke off the flower, then twisted the stem into a ring. “There.”

Nina Rowan's Books