Royal Society of London and editor of the Cambridge and Dublin Mathematical Journal. And Lord Perry is a professor at King’s College whose election to the Society is expected this month. Isn’t that correct, my lord?”
“Indeed it is, Miss Kellaway. Thank you for remembering.”
“Of course. But what are you both doing here?”
“The committee in charge of collecting mathematical and scientific instruments asked us to be advisors,” Lord Perry said, scrutinizing her with the attentiveness of a jeweler examining a rare gem. “We’d hoped to call upon you for assistance, but knowing you prefer… er, that is, seeing as how you cherish your privacy… ah, in the sense that—”
“We know you prefer to avoid the recognition,” Dr. Sigley put in.
“Yes,” Perry agreed. “Much as recognition would like to cast its radiant light upon you, my dear Miss Kellaway.”
He and Sigley fell silent in a moment of reverent admiration. Alexander coughed.
“Forgive me, gentlemen.” Lydia turned to Alexander. “This is Alexander Hall, Viscount Northwood. He is the director of the exhibition.”
Alexander’s back teeth came together hard. He nodded. “Gentlemen.”
“My lord.” Perry shuffled his feet together, casting a glance at his companion. “Miss Kellaway, are you involved with the exhibition?”
“No, I’m just giving his lordship my opinion about several mathematical texts.”
“And will you attend the symposium week after next?” Sigley asked. “I received the paper you sent for review, the one about the rotation of a body around a fixed point. You claim it can be solved by six meromorphic functions of time?”
“Yes, provided all six have a positive radius of convergence and satisfy the Euler equations as well.”
“Genius,” Perry murmured. He grasped Lydia’s hand in both of his and spoke to Northwood while continuing to stare at her. “Lord Northwood, you’ve got a most extraordinary… Miss Kellaway is deeply admired. Very deeply admired.”
Sigley moved to ease Perry away from Lydia, who appeared amused rather than affronted by the man’s evident devotion.
“You’ve several fascinating ideas in your paper, Miss Kellaway,” Sigley agreed. “I’ve some questions about the integrals but need to study the equations a bit more. Perhaps we can discuss it further at the symposium?”
“Of course. I look forward to it.”
“As do I,” Sigley said. “Pleasure to see you again, and to meet you, my lord.”
“Yes, and… and we do hope that you will make yourself more… er, available to us in the future.” Perry gave an awkward little bow before he and Sigley moved off toward the display of mathematical instruments.
“What symposium?” Alexander asked.
“Oh.” Lydia waved a hand in dismissal as they left the great hall and went to an office at the back of the building. “One focusing on recent studies in mathematics. I received an invitation last month and accepted. I haven’t been to a symposium in an age, and I thought I might like to hear the latest theories.”
After picking up several books from the desk, she started to walk back to the corridor. He stepped in front of her and closed the door.
Lydia stopped. “Alexander?”
“Why haven’t you attended symposiums and such recently?” he asked.
“I don’t—”
“And why did both those men know you’d rather avoid recognition?”
“I just have something of a reputation for preferring to conduct my work in private. It doesn’t mean anything, Alexander. It’s just the way I am. How I’ve always been.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why is it that you, a woman with a mind even Euclid himself would admire, are so determined to be anonymous?” Frustration flashed through him at the notion that her talents had been muted… and he’d no idea why. “And don’t use Jane as an excuse. Why did you spend so many years pursuing mathematics if you intended to stop using your talents?”
Lydia pressed her lips together, a mixture of irritation and sadness flaring in her eyes. “I never intended to stop using my talents. Where mathematics is concerned, I’ve always wanted to contribute to its body of knowledge, to see my work published and debated, to write books, to study identities and equations. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“Prove it.”
“What?”
Alexander stepped closer, the urge inside him intensifying. He hated it, hated the idea that his brilliant, stunning Lydia had been locking herself away for years upon years, that she had been alone with her own thoughts, closed off from a community of academics who wanted her theories, her ideas, her intelligence.
“Deliver a talk for the educational exhibition lecture series,” Alexander said. “The topic will be your choice. Practical instruction in schools, use of the abacus, mathematics and science… I