her hands to her overflowing bosom, delightfully plump in a low-cut gown which flattered her figure. “Wentworth, please, you must not be so heartless!”
“I am sure I sent more than a note. Did you not get a draft of two thousand pounds?”
Juliana inched her way to the door, shamelessly content with watching the tableau unfold.
The earl stood, went over to Lady Wimpole, and handed her the package. She sniffed and took it, opening it, then gasped.
“Oh, Wentworth, this is so lovely.”
He made a non-committal sound. “I must get back to my work.”
Fat drops of tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. “Why must we be over?” she prettily pleaded
He stooped to his haunches, his expression softening a bit. “Come now, Sophia, my dear, you are a passionate woman who deserves much better than my infrequent attentions. You’ve been my mistress for over a year now, and I cannot recall if I’ve taken you to my bed.”
Juliana’s heart jolted, and her curiosity about the earl soared. A mistress he had never taken to his bed.
An outraged squawk came from Sophia, and she lurched to her feet, objecting most fiercely to say, “Yes! At least four times…and my darling, how wonderful it was. Surely, you must remember.”
The earl stood, his mouth parted, then snapped shut. His eyes lit up with a revelation, and he snapped his fingers together. “By God, I’ve solved the equation! How simple it is, how did I ever miss it?”
Juliana choked on her startled laugh as he beelined from the room to his library.
“Well!” Sophia said, flinging herself into the chaise.
The tears dried, and Lady Sophia pouted and squared her shoulders.
“Will you like some refreshments, madam?” Juliana politely queried.
With a gasp, Sophia looked up, clearly surprised to note Juliana was still in the room. These people really believed servants were invisible. Sophia refused all refreshments, and after fidgeting for over an hour, she ordered her carriage around, then left in a flounce. As the room contained many valuable antiques, Juliana had decided to wait for the earl’s ex-mistress to depart. In case she was light-fingered in addition to being light with her skirts.
Amused by the entire thing, Juliana had the cook prepare a tray for the earl when he did not come out from the library after three hours. She opened the door, balancing the tray which held slices of roasted beef, duchesse potatoes, mushrooms which the earl was partial to, cauliflower and a piece of the cook’s apple pie with cream to follow, and a bottle of claret.
The earl was bent over his desk, writing in a large leather bounded book. She found a place on his desk to rest the tray, and even with the most mouthwatering flavor filling the room, he did not lift his head.
“I’ve brought you something to eat, my lord.”
He did not glance at her, but his stomach grumbled quite loudly.
“Let my solicitors know they are to let the townhouse for Lady Sophia Wimpole for the rest of the year to soothe her offended pride,” he said absentmindedly.
“Yes, my lord.” Juliana went into her inner jacket pocket, removed the small notebook and pencil she hid there, and made the note.
After, she stood there, staring down at him, an odd feeling stirring inside. It was strange and unfamiliar, and she did not know what to make of it.
He was different from what she had envisioned, and she found herself terribly curious about him. Still, it would be best not to linger in his presence.
Chapter 4
Wentworth groaned as he lifted his head and lowered his quill. The fundamental theorem of calculus had always been a favorite of his. Since last week, he had been working on a set of differential calculus questions, and one had given him pause. He relished the challenge of solving complex mathematical equations, and just now, a spark had been lit in his brain, and he realized he had been applying a principle wrong.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he frowned upon seeing that the time was almost seven in the evening, and dusk had fallen. The door eased open, and his valet entered with another tray in his hand. Wentworth glanced around, certain his man had brought him another tray earlier, but his desk was clean.
“You’ve stopped working, my lord,” the lad said, coming over with a tray that smelled divine.
When Julian lowered it onto the desk, Wentworth arched a brow.
“Did the cook know I was working on a problem?”
“Yes, my lord, I informed the kitchens earlier.”
“And they still prepared