to the distance,” Lydia admitted. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the beat of her heart beneath layers of fabric. “But he agreed after my grandmother argued that it would be an unmatched opportunity for me. She accompanied me until she found a woman who served as a suitable chaperone.”
“Your grandmother knew you possessed an exceptional mind.”
“She did.” A sting of tears burned Lydia’s eyes so unexpectedly that she had to turn away. “Both she and my father did. Throughout my childhood, my grandmother was my greatest champion, my strongest supporter. And my father never tried to stifle my abilities.”
Silence filled the space behind her, though she felt Northwood’s disquiet, his sense that something was terribly wrong. She pressed her fingers against her eyes, swallowing old tears, fighting to keep the cloud at bay.
“What happened?” His voice was a low, quiet rumble.
She shook her head. Not even for him could she ever, ever answer that question.
“Lydia.”
Oh, God, he was closer. And that delicious, fluid sound of his deep voice speaking her name sent a wave of pleasure through her blood. He was right behind her. She knew if she took one step back, she would encounter the hard plane of his chest. Her fingers curled into her palms as she fought the urge to do just that.
His hands settled on her shoulders, heavy and solid. Her breathing grew shallow, even as her body stiffened under his touch.
“What shall it be, my lord?” Gathering her strength, Lydia pulled away, turning back to face him.
“What shall what be?”
“My debt. You solved the equation. Now I owe you something once again.”
Northwood frowned. “I will not hold you to a debt.”
“I insist that you do.”
He muttered a curse under his breath and reached into his pocket. He cupped the locket in his palm, looking down at it for a moment.
“I wish you would just take it back,” he said.
“I know you do. But, like you, I have my pride.” She followed his gaze. Her locket appeared small, the chain delicate, engulfed by his large hand.
She wanted the necklace back. Needed it back. And yet if she accepted his offer, she would have no further excuse to seek him out. She would have no reason to see him again.
The very thought made her heart ache in a way she had never before experienced.
Northwood shoved the necklace back into his pocket and paced restlessly across the room. “All right, then. The debt. In late June you will deliver a lecture at St. Martin’s Hall on the subject of mathematical education.”
Lydia looked at him as if he’d asked her to fly to the moon. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m the head of a subcommittee in charge of planning a lecture series to coincide with the educational exhibition. The lectures will focus on educational theory and practice. I’ve already confirmed several speakers who will discuss educational models, such as the use of the microscope in schools, music, education and the poor, and botanical and economic science.” Northwood stopped pacing and looked at her. “I want you to deliver a lecture about mathematical instruction in schools.”
“I… I don’t… do you mean to say that women will be giving lectures?”
“No. At least, no women have been asked to do so. Until now.”
“Why me?”
“I know of no one else more suited to the task.”
Lydia curled her fingers around the pencil she still held. “I’m sorry.” A shadow spilled over her brief pleasure at Northwood’s compliments. “I can’t.”
He frowned. “Why not? These lectures will be attended by prominent scholars from throughout the world.”
“I don’t want their audience. I haven’t delivered a lecture in months, and I publish my papers infrequently. I consult with a select few colleagues who do not divulge our association. They are the ones who invited me to be part of the journal editorial board, which is the first professional position I’ve taken in years.”
“Why did you take the position now, then?”
“Because the meetings are with only a few other mathematicians who I consider friends. I don’t attend large symposiums or correspond with scholars on the Continent.”
“Why the bloody hell not?”
The vehemence of his tone startled her. Her grip tightened on the pencil, her heart hammering as she struggled for a way to explain.
“Being a mathematician, an academic, is not fitting for a woman,” she finally said. “You know that. And while my father and grandmother encouraged my education when I was younger, it soon became clear that people viewed me as an oddity, someone to be avoided