calculating sharpened her assessment. “Lydia has confessed she… disturbed you at your home.”
She did, indeed.
“I do apologize for her impertinence,” Mrs. Boyd added.
“No need, Mrs. Boyd. Miss Kellaway and I have come to an agreement.” He cast a quick glance toward Lydia before returning his attention to Mrs. Boyd.
“Have you?” The woman’s gaze narrowed. “Might I inquire what kind of agreement?”
“It’s nothing, really,” Lydia broke in. “I’m working on some accounting for Lord Northwood in exchange for the locket.”
Alexander studied the older woman to see if she saw through the lie, but rather than appearing suspicious, Mrs. Boyd seemed oddly pleased.
“Well, I don’t think it’s quite proper for a woman to work on accounting,” she admitted, “but I do know that Lydia will be most accurate and thorough. She’s always had a head for numbers, my lord.”
“So I’ve discovered.” He glanced at Lydia. “I’d best be on my way. I’m expected at the Society of Arts offices within the hour.”
As he returned to the carriage, Sebastian’s words echoed through his head.
Find yourself a sweet, empty-headed young chit.
Alexander wouldn’t call Lydia Kellaway sweet. She was sharp and peppery, not sweet. As for empty-headed… he almost laughed. If anything, that woman’s head was crammed with far too many thoughts and suppositions. And young? She must be nearing thirty.
He stared out the window. No. Miss Kellaway was too forthright, too opinionated, too prickly. Not to mention downright odd. She did not come from a prominent family. Society would think it a strange match. It wasn’t what people would expect of him.
Yet he hadn’t been as intrigued by a woman in ages, if ever. He didn’t understand all she was about, but he was determined to try.
He made her blush. Blush! How many years had it been since she—Lydia Kellaway, mathematical prodigy who at eight years of age studied differential and integral calculus—had blushed? At least, in a way that elicited a tingle of pleasure and the urge to smile.
And when Lord Northwood looked at her, her heart fluttered like petals in a breeze.
She wondered what he thought when he looked at her. Did he like what he saw? The heated look in his eyes suggested he did, but he was far more experienced in such matters than she was, so perhaps it was all a game to him.
Or perhaps not.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, even now feeling them warm with color. Somewhere deep inside, in a place she rarely allowed herself to venture, Lydia remembered what carnal desire had felt like. She remembered the heating of her blood, the tension swirling in her belly.
But this… the lightness, the surge beneath her heart… this was all new. Welcome. Lovely.
Dangerous.
Lydia closed her eyes, hating the whispered warning, the reminder that not even in her imagination should she allow herself to acknowledge, let alone enjoy, the sensations Lord Northwood aroused.
“Lydia.”
Lydia’s eyes flew open at the sound of her grandmother’s voice. She sat up, folding her arms across her breasts. Shame clawed through her, even though she had done nothing wrong.
“Would you please join me in the drawing room?” Mrs. Boyd asked. “I’d like to speak with you.”
“About what?”
“I’ve several matters I wish to discuss before my meeting at the bank tomorrow morning. Ten minutes, please.”
She turned and left, her statement freezing any memory of Lord Northwood from Lydia’s mind. She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, then scraped her hair away from her face and neck, ensuring any loose tendrils were tightly contained by a ribbon.
Apprehension rippled through her as she went to the drawing room. Her grandmother stood beside the fire, her arms crossed.
“Please,” Lydia said. “What is this about?”
Mrs. Boyd tapped her fingers against her arms. “How many times have you seen Lord Northwood?”
“Seen him? Twice, I think. Why?”
“You’re to see him more often, I imagine, if you’re working on his books,” Mrs. Boyd continued. “My friend Mrs. Keene claims he’s been intent on restoring honor to his family. It’s one reason he’s working so hard with the Society of Arts and the organization of the educational exhibition. He’s vice president of the Society and director of the exhibition. He’s also been attempting to arrange a suitable marriage for his sister.”
Ah. Likely that had something to do with why the young woman had been so upset the other night.
“I’m certain he’ll prove successful,” Lydia said. She couldn’t imagine Northwood being unsuccessful at anything.
“However,” Mrs. Boyd continued, “word is that he’s not expressed interest in finding a wife for himself.”