could not deny a thrill at the evidence of his persistence.
The man wanted her to be his wife.
“You know quite well why I refused,” she told her grandmother.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Lydia! Have you forgotten your position? That you were responsible for ruining your own future? That once Jane leaves this house and begins her own life, you have nothing?”
“I could… I couldn’t agree to his proposal without telling him the truth.” Lydia forced away the tears beginning to fill her chest, to choke her throat. “He has… has a reputation, I know, his family does, but he’s a good man. He has a good heart. And if he were to take a wife who…”
“A wife who what? Who is a mathematical genius? Clearly he finds that an asset rather than a detriment. And have you thought about what this could do for us?” Mrs. Boyd moved closer to Lydia. “Everyone with whom I have spoken has been conciliatory about the viscount. Oh, several have mentioned the scandal, of course, but really, Lord Northwood is not to blame for that. His own reputation remains intact, as long as one does not punish him for the sins of his parents. Which I am not inclined to do.”
“And what of my reputation?”
“You have no reputation, Lydia, not in such lofty circles. That is why Lord Northwood chose you—he doesn’t want a titled woman who fears the scandal will reflect upon her family. With you, the man has a respectable woman who is admired for her intellect and will prove a good and honorable wife.”
“I am not honorable.”
“You can be.” Her grandmother thumped her cane hard on the floor. “Idiot girl! This is your only chance to better yourself, Lydia, to better the pathetic life you lead. You don’t even have your work anymore, do you? Not the way you’d wish for it to be. Do you want to spend the next twenty years hiding, wasting away to nothing?”
“What makes you think marriage to Northwood would prevent that?”
“You’d at least have a good life, Lydia! Yes, he has difficulties, but even two months ago did you imagine you would ever be in this position? He’s a viscount! He has a fortune. Imagine what you could do if he allowed it.”
The horrible thing was, Lydia could imagine. She’d thought about little else ever since Alexander first proposed.
She imagined working with Talia on the ragged schools’ educational program, helping establish mathematical curricula for girls’ schools. She could imagine teaching governesses how best to approach mathematical instruction, funding symposiums, lectures. She could even see herself at Alexander’s side with the Society of Arts—exhibitions of inventions, award programs, judging panels.
And, of course, she could envision him—talking with him, touching him, kissing him, feeling his hands on her body, his gaze warm on her face.
Whenever she wanted. All the time. Without reservation. With him.
Imagining all that, picturing it in her future, caused a longing so deep, so sharp, that Lydia almost couldn’t breathe.
“Is this what you wanted?” Her grandmother’s voice was closer.
Lydia turned to look at her, into the blue eyes so like her own, so like her mother’s. Mrs. Boyd’s expression softened with regret. She put her hand on Lydia’s cheek.
“Did you really expect your life would turn out like this?” her grandmother asked.
Lydia swallowed past the lump in her throat, her heart squeezing painfully. “What will you do if I accept him? What about Jane?”
“Oh, Lydia.” Her grandmother’s eyes glistened with a sheen of tears. “We’ll be here. We’ll always be here. You’ll see Jane as much as you do now, if not more. And do you think Jane’s feelings for you will change one whit simply because you’re married to Lord Northwood?”
Lydia’s tears spilled over, rolling so fast that she tasted salt on her lips. She grasped her grandmother’s hand where it rested against her cheek. “How can I not tell him?”
“Because you can’t.” Such a simple response, and yet so tangled, so twisted. “It isn’t as if anyone will ever know.”
“Everything will change,” Lydia whispered.
“Only for the better.”
“I’ve already refused.” She struggled to hold on to her resolve, but she could feel it weakening, breaking, the light of a possible new future showing through the cracks. The shadows would always be there, but maybe now, finally, the brightness would overpower them.
If she allowed it to.
“Lord Northwood told me the offer stands for one more week,” Mrs. Boyd said. “He wants to marry you, Lydia. He wouldn’t have asked otherwise. You mustn’t allow this opportunity