And not for the golden color of her hair or the fine texture of her skin or the ‘harmonious radiance of her face,’ as one gentleman had once described her.
No. Cousin Alex admired the parts of her thatshehad cultivated and curated and rigorously nourished.
A painful sort of pleasure suffused her.
“I cannot imagine that many are . . .” He paused, as if hunting for the right word. “. . .acceptingof the depth of your education.”
Lottie smiled. “You mean, do gentlemen understand that I crossed thepons asinorumlike any other thirteen-year-old?”
She was referring, of course, to the Fifth Proposition of the first book of Euclid—if two sides of a triangle were equal, the angles opposite these sides also were equal.
The theorem was nicknamed thepons asinorumor ‘Bridge of Asses’ as lack-wits often had difficulty ‘getting over’ it.
Cousin Alex gaped at her and then devolved into delighted laughter. The motion wrinkled his cheeks and sparked a flame in his slate-gray eyes.
Heavens above! His laugh was a glorious thing. It fanned a corresponding flame in her chest and sent something flipping in her stomach. She pressed her hand there, warning the treacherous emotion to stay put.
He clutched his side. “Ye cannae make me laugh like that, lass. My poor bruised ribs cannae take it.”
She grinned, his laughter utterly infectious. “You should have seen poor Theo’s face—he was my betrothed several years ago—when he heard me quote Euclid for the first time. He spluttered like a simpleton. He could not comprehend how I grasped the Fifth Proposition, as he had struggled for months over it.”
Cousin Alex wiped mirth from his eyes.
They smiled at one another for a heartbeat. And then another.
The sensation left her breathless.
Lottie looked away first and smoothed a hand over her skirts.
“I have told you much about myself, but I do have a question of my own. One that has weighed upon me.” Lottie paused and then, when he nodded his assent, she forged ahead. “Do you intend to assume the marquisate? Will Freddie be disinherited?”
To his credit, he didn’t blink at her question or the abrupt manner in which she asked it.
Instead, he studied her . . . pondering.
“I cannae say for certain about the marquisate.” He glanced at the window, the snow piling in tiny mounds upon the pane. “I have heard some worrying reports about potential problems. That perhaps Mr. Warden as the new steward isnae quite as competent as his predecessor. That tenants are going hungry and are, therefore, more prone to disease. That the local workhouses are stuffed with new arrivals, indicating a loss of livelihoods.” He waved a hand toward his injured leg. “And here I am, unable to investigate such claims. The reports could be nothing more than the ebb and flow of Fortune. Or they could be an indication of mismanagement and cruel measures.”
Was this true?
If so, Lottie was instantly ashamed of her own neglect. Hadn’t she promised Papa?
Preserve my legacy. See that my lands and people are secured.
She had been so focused on Freddie, that she had forgotten that simple injunction.
“I am a doctor by trade, Lady Charlotte,” he continued. “I have dedicated my life tae easing the suffering of others. Ye ask, do I intend tae assume the marquisate? The answer is . . . nuanced. Do Iwishtae assume the title of marquess? No. Emphaticallyno!” He shook his head. “But I also cannae allow my fellow human beings to suffer, particularly when I can do something to alleviate it. I believe Cicero when he said, ‘Non nobis solum nati sumus.’”
“Not for ourselves alone are we born,” Lottie translated.
He nodded.
The problem, of course, was that shedidunderstand him. Intuitively. His words caused something to thump and pang deep within. A phantom sense of hearing her own desires reflected in his words.
Lottie lifted her thumb to her mouth, her teeth automatically sinking into her nail.
Oof!
Nail-biting was an abominable habit. She thought she had conquered it years ago, but anytime anxiety raised its head . . .
