require your help, my lord,” Lydia said. “Without telling me anything yet, would you please double the number of the person who has the ring?”
The earl nodded. “Done.”
“Then add five and multiply the result by five.”
“Done.”
“Add ten, plus the number denoting the hand bearing the ring.”
“Do you require pencil and paper?” Talia asked her father in a sweet tone.
“Only to extract you from my will,” the earl retorted.
Sebastian and Castleford both chuckled. Even Alexander grinned.
“What next, Miss Kellaway?” the earl asked.
“Multiply your result by ten, then add the number of the finger holding the ring. Then multiply that sum by ten and add the number of the joint.”
“All right.”
“Then add thirty-five and tell me the sum you’ve reached.”
“Seven thousand six hundred fifty-seven,” Rushton replied.
Lydia performed a quick calculation in her head and turned toward Alexander. Her heart did a little twist as she saw the intense way he was looking at her.
“Lord Northwood,” she said, her eyes locking with his, “is wearing the ring on the second joint of the forefinger on his right hand.”
Silence descended over the company, so swift and hard that for an instant Lydia feared she’d made a mistake. Then Lord Rushton laughed, a big booming sound that echoed against the walls and ceiling of the elegant room.
A slow, beautiful smile spread across Alexander’s face as he extended his right hand to reveal the flower stem wrapped around his forefinger.
Talia turned an astonished stare upon Lydia. “How on earth—”
“It’s quite simple, really, if you assign each part of the problem a fixed number and know the equation.” Lydia’s face heated slightly at the realization they thought she’d performed some astonishingly complex feat. “If you subtract three thousand five hundred thirty-five from the final number Lord Rushton provided, you have the solution. Seven thousand six hundred fifty-seven minus three thousand five hundred thirty-five is four thousand one hundred twenty-two. Lord Northwood was designated number four. And he wore the ring on his right hand, on the second joint of the second finger.”
“Miss Kellaway, you’re a marvel.” Rushton stood and clapped his hands. “I’d have sworn it couldn’t be done.”
“You did swear it couldn’t be done,” Sebastian replied, throwing Lydia a grin. “Impressing the earl can be an insurmountable task, which makes its achievement quite an event.”
Lydia glanced at Alexander. He was watching her with a curiously intent expression—his brow creased, a slight frown pulling at his mouth, as if he were attempting to reach a conclusion that still eluded him. Then he stood and approached Lydia with determination.
Her skin prickled with the sudden anticipation that something momentous was about to take place. Something both thrilling and devastating. The back of her neck dampened with perspiration, the candlelit room suddenly cloying and hot.
“I… I need to take some air.” She stepped back to escape his increasingly imposing presence, attempting not to hurry as she went toward the doors leading to the terrace. “If you’ll excuse me—”
He followed her outside. The cool evening air bathed her skin. Her heart beat with unaccountable speed.
Alexander stopped beside her, resting his hands on the railing. For a moment, he stared out into the darkened garden as if it held the answer to a question with which he’d been struggling. In the ambient light, his profile appeared rough and shadowed, his eyes shimmering beneath thick dark lashes.
The sound of a Beethoven sonata drifted from the piano, mingling with the chirps of insects and night-bird calls.
“My father has not engaged in company for a very long time,” Alexander finally said. “He only agreed to come this weekend because of Talia.”
“She’s a lovely young woman.”
“Yes, she is. She could marry astonishingly well if she’d—” He broke off with a shake of his head.
Tension infused his shoulders, the line of his body. Lydia swallowed, a surge of anticipation and apprehension mingling in her chest.
“Alexander?”
His forehead creased, and his jaw appeared to tighten. Lydia’s apprehension intensified. “What is it?” she asked.
“We’ve not known each other long,” he said.
“No.”
“And forgive me, but neither of us is in the bloom of youth.”
“True.”
He looked at her, his dark eyes direct as always, but with a trace of uncertainty that troubled her. In the short time she’d known him, she’d come to think he would never be uncertain about anything.
“For several years, my father has expressed his wish that I marry and produce an heir,” he said. “I haven’t done so in part because I’ve been occupied with my business and family matters, but also because I haven’t found a woman