her chest as she watched him withdraw the silver chain, capturing the locket in his palm.
He studied the locket, rubbing his thumb across the engraving that embellished its polished surface.
“Is it a phoenix?” he asked.
“It’s called a fenghuang, a bird of virtue, power, and grace.”
He flipped the locket over to the design on the other side. “And the dragon?”
“When the fenghuang is paired with a dragon, the two symbolize the union of… of husband and wife.”
His dark eyes moved to hers. “Of male and female.”
Lydia swallowed in an effort to ease the sudden dryness of her mouth. “The… the fenghuang itself is representative of yin and yang. Feng is the male bird, huang the female. The bird and the dragon together speak of marital harmony.”
“And the woman?” Northwood asked.
“The woman is yin, the bird called huang—”
“No.” He flicked open the locket, turning it toward her to reveal the miniature portrait inside. “This woman.”
She didn’t look at the image. She couldn’t. She stared at Lord Northwood. Something complex and strangely intimate shone behind his eyes, as if he knew the answer to his question yet wanted to hear the response from her.
“That woman,” she said, “is my mother.”
He snapped the locket closed between his thumb and forefinger. “She is very beautiful.”
“She was.”
The sine of two theta equals two times the sine of theta times the cosine of theta.
Lydia repeated the trigonometric identity until the threat of disturbing emotions had passed.
“Why did you purchase the locket from Mr. Havers?” she asked.
“I’d never seen anything like it.”
“Nor will you again. My father had it specially made. It is pure silver, though I suspect you know that.”
“I do recognize excellent craftsmanship.” As he spoke, he lifted his gaze from the locket and looked at her. “And this locket must be very valuable, indeed, if it brought you here in the middle of the night.”
Lydia nodded. She slipped her hand into her pocket and closed her fingers around a small figurine. She extended it to Lord Northwood. “My father brought this back years ago from a trip to the province of Yunnan. It’s a jade sculpture of an elephant, quite well crafted. I’d like to offer it in exchange for the locket.”
“Why didn’t your grandmother pawn that instead of the locket?”
Lying would serve no purpose. Not with this man.
“It isn’t as valuable,” Lydia admitted.
“You expect me to make an uneven exchange?”
“No. My father also has several Chinese scrolls, one or two paintings—if you would consider several items in exchange?”
Northwood shook his head. “I do not collect Chinese art and artifacts, Miss Kellaway, so that would be of no use. As I said, I bought the locket because it was unique.”
“Surely there must be something you want.”
“What else are you offering?”
Although the question appeared innocent, the undercurrent of his voice rippled through her. Warmth heated its wake—not the tenderness provoked by emotions of the heart but something edged with wildness, lack of control. Danger.
Her eyes burned.
The locket. The locket.
“I… I have not the immediate funds to repurchase it from you,” she admitted, “though I’ve been recently offered a position that involves payment, and I can offer you a promissory note in exchange for—”
“I trust no one to uphold a promissory note.”
“I assure you, my lord, I would never—”
“No one, Miss Kellaway.”
Lydia expelled a breath, unable to muster any indignation at his decree. She wouldn’t trust anyone to uphold a promissory note, either. Almost twenty-eight years of life had taught her that well enough.
“Nor would I accept money that you… earned?” Northwood added.
The statement had a question to it, one Lydia had no intention of answering. If she told him she’d been offered a position on the editorial board of a mathematical journal, he’d likely either laugh at her or… Wait a moment.
“Lord Northwood, I understand you are in charge of a Society of Arts exhibition. Is that correct?”
He nodded. “An international educational exhibition, which I proposed well over a year ago. It’s scheduled to open in June. Preparations are under way.”
An international exhibition. Lydia’s fingers tightened on the notebook.
“Is there by chance a… a mathematical element of the exhibition?” she asked.
“There is a planned display of different mathematical instruments used in various parts of the world.”
“I see.” She tried to ignore the shimmer of fear in her blood. If he did accept her offer, she would have no reason to take on any kind of public role. All of her work could be conducted before the exhibition even opened. Perhaps no one except Lord Northwood would