I studied Will, noticing his cravat was askew and that there was a crusty yellowish stain on it—egg from breakfast if I had to guess. His clothes, though markedly new, were rumpled and untidy. He would hardly pass muster at an Almack’s gathering, but in truth, I found him adorably endearing, like a giant baby chick I wanted to take under my protective wing.
“Thetonis peculiar,” I said as I kept pace with him down a nearby staircase. “But it will get easier as you find your footing.”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “Of course, the way I keep fumbling my way about, I’d be highly shocked if any invitations arrived at all.”
I bumped his arm with mine. “Tell you what? Let’s stick together. You help me find my way around here, and I’ll help you in London when the time comes. How does that sound?”
Incredulous but hopeful blue eyes peered down at me. “You’d do that? But you just met me. What if…people shun you by association? They don’t call me Viscount Bumpkin for nothing.”
Disgust bled through me. Goodness, the dreadful similarity to the intrigues in a London ballroom was too much. Name-calling was a vicious art, and the wrong associations could ruin a girl’s come-out before it even began—everything always hinged upon therightconnections. To think that young men would behave in such a manner at a prestigious university was a shock to me, but perhaps such social hierarchy existed everywhere.
“You seem like an amiable gentleman,” I said with a shrug, determined to shore us both up. “Let’s leave the judgments for later, shall we?”
Because the truth was if gentle, trusting Will found out he’d been deceived by a lady dressed as a boy, I had no doubt he might not be so friendly or forgiving. In my current happenstance, beneath my false mustache and padded shoulders, Iwasthe absolute wrong social connection. However, I’d take allies wherever I could get them, and I suspected Will might feel the same.
At the end of the staircase, we entered a large room for the lecture, which was taken up by over twenty lads of varying ages wearing the same billowing gowns with various hats and tassels, occupying sofas and chairs of all sizes pulled in a haphazard circle. A frisson of excitement wound up my spine at the hum of voices. Will and I crammed into two spots at the end of a sofa. I pulled out my notebook and pencil as chatter flew around the room, and attempted to follow the chain of conversation. My ears perked up. It ranged from gossip and girls to complex geometry and algebra problems as well as celestial mechanics.
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face at the latter.
Nowthatwas what I was here for.
“Gentlemen, come to order,” a deep voice said. I couldn’t see over the heads in front of me as I scribbled the date on the first page. Someone blew a loud whistle through his mouth. “Gents, quiet!”
Everyone shushed. A tall head of wavy dark hair was the only thing I could see through the gaps in the bodies in front of me,but I was much too focused on writing the date in my new notebook to get a better glance. I only needed to listen after all, and participate should I feel the need. For now, I wanted to soak it all in. There would be time for contribution later—I didn’t want to seemtooeager.
“Let’s resume our discussion on analytical versus geometrical approaches to mathematics, and the path our own Mr. Newton has charted. The challenge was that the former is arguably the path forward, and I agree. Algebra and calculus are by far superior for advancement in mechanics.”
I blinked. That was an aggressive viewpoint.
The room quieted to an ominous, abrupt hush, heads swiveling in my direction. Will gasped beside me, and I realized that I’d uttered my private thoughts aloud. My stomach fell. So much for not sounding too eager on the first day. Perhaps I’d be lucky, and the discussion would move on if someone else chimed in. But the silence only grew.
“By all means, sir, in the back row, enlighten us,” the disembodied voice said, a hint of annoyance bleeding through.
Mortified, I cleared my throat, keeping my voice deep. In for a penny, in for a pound, then. “Calculus might be more elegant, but a geometrical method could prove to be more rigorous for any kind of mathematical proof. One could debate the merits of either, but both solutions are valid.”
“Well said,” someone to my right observed, and I smiled gratefully in their direction, then I cursed at myself for smiling at all—boys hardly sought approval.
“Advancement in the knowledge of mathematics and theunderstanding of astronomy and mechanics is limited with the Euclidian method,” the first voice countered.
“Perhaps,” I replied. “But that doesn’t negate the value of classical constructions.”
“Point taken,” the leader said, his voice sounding closer than before, as if people in front of me had cleared a path. “Who are you, sir? Introduce yourself.”
Horrified, I shrank into my seat, wishing I’d kept my stupid mouth shut, but then the crowd in front of me shifted as if by magic, and any rational thought deserted me completely as my dismayed stare landed on the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Goodness, speaking of the classics, this boy could be Adonis in the flesh. And I’d seen plenty of good-looking gentlemen.
My throat dried as my bemused gaze collided with a pair of intense blue eyes the color of lapis lazuli gemstones, surrounded by warm russet-brown skin. I’d never seen eyes that color—like a glassy lake shot through with splashes of sunshine on a summer day. His face was square with a strong chin and a bold nose, offset by full lips that were currently pulled into a grimace as he observed me. A wave of the thick brown hair I’d glimpsed before slid into his brow when that fascinating gaze flashed and darkened…withrecognition.
Oh no.
“Lord Ansel,” he drawled, making my heart sink precariously even as a part of me cheered that my disguise was convincing enough. Honestly, what were the chances I’d be tested so sorely on my first day? “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t yoube at St. John’s knee-deep in classical philosophy? If I recall, that was your field of study.”
I gulped, feeling my face heat despite my internal dictates for it to remain calm. “Er, I…transferred.”
Whispers buzzed through the room like a swarm of gnats. “That’s uncommon,” someone remarked from my left side as one behind me barked, “A spy in our midst,” while another muttered, “Deuced nob.”
I didn’t understand the second comment, though it stank of some hidden rivalry, but the last was correct, and I grabbed on to it like a lifeline. I was an aristocrat—I answered to no one. Channeling every titled male of my acquaintance, I lifted a haughty brow, smirked, and slouched back into the sofa cushions. “What’s it to you? I am a peer. My interests have changed, and I can do as I please. Who areyouto question why I am here?”
A few murmurs rose out of that, naturally from the other nobles in the room and the sycophants who wanted to cozy up to them. There might be an underlying intercollege rivalry, but the aristocracy superseded all. I leaned inhardto that innate privilege, despite the self-disgust brewing in my gut. I deplored class distinctions and anyone who thought they were automatically better through a fortunate circumstance of birth.
