The image of standing chest to chest with him floatedthrough my brain. The truth was I was already caught in his orbit, like an obsessed entity circling the biggest, most beautiful star in the sky. I don’t know why the image made my knees weak, but it did.
“You mentioned having a particular interest in astronomy.” When I nodded vigorously to hide my inconvenient attraction, he dragged the book toward him and flicked through the pages. “That’s why I chose this material for our discussion. So how much of this did you actually manage to reread?”
I blinked in wonder—he’d chosen the subject matter because he knew it would be of interest tome? I wanted to be suspicious of his motives, but something fluttered to life in my chest, something that felt too much like tiny butterfly wings beating.
No, no, no.
I squashed the feeling instantly—Isaac Newton was practically a staple in mathematics, physics, and astronomy. Perhaps St. Clair simply wanted to get the measure of me to see how serious I was, not because hecaredabout my interests.
“Most of it,” I admitted and flushed. “I’m a fast reader.”
A small chuckle left his mouth. “You know, I find myself consistently surprised by you, Lord Ansel. You never struck me as particularly devoted to study when we crossed paths in the past. In fact, you seemed to be quite the scoundrel, more interested in social intrigues with your mates and being properly idle than receiving an actual education. Tell me, what changed?”
My breath left me in a hiss. It wasn’t as though Ansel was planning to return to Cambridge, considering he’d already fulfilled the residency requirements, and St. Clair wasn’t wrongabout my cousin’s proclivities, so in the interests of nurturing this fledgling camaraderie, I opted for honesty. “When I was younger, I used to be afraid of the dark, but my mother told me that it’s only in the true depths of darkness that one can really see the stars. I remember looking for them then, these tiny celestial bodies that transformed the night sky, and I was fascinated with how they came to be. I wanted to know more about them. Perhaps even discover one of my own someday…” I swallowed, trailing off, suddenly worried that in being too honest, I hadn’t sounded like Ansel at all. Unsettled, I cleared my throat. “I suppose I realized that I had a unique opportunity to learn from the greats, and I didn’t want to squander my remaining time before my uncle called me back to my familial duties.”
“I can appreciate that,” St. Clair said staring at me thoughtfully. “Is that why you want to build your own telescope?”
I gnawed on my lip. “Someday. I think I want to prove to myself that I can do it.”
“Why prove it to yourself?”
Because I’m a girl with a brain, who is just as competent as any boy here, and not some arbitrary abnormality.
“I suppose it’s a personal objective,” I told him instead. “To see the stars with something I’ve built.”
“I think it’s a great plan. Ambitious, as I’ve said, but great.”
I blinked, an idea forming…one that scared me, but it was an achievable goal. “Do you think such a thing could be part of my assessment at the end of the term?”
He paused, then said, “I’ll consult with one of the Fellows, Mr. George Peacock, and let you know.”
We lapsed into silence, and when I looked up again, I found him staring unwaveringly at me with a gaze that seemed to delve right through to all my secrets. Or perhaps I felt that way only because I had the foolish inclination to confess them all to him. I shoved my spectacles up my nose. “Is everything all right, sir?” I asked, worried that my facial hair might be migrating again.
His lean throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Before we continue with the reading assignment, I wanted to thank you again for last week. I could have been badly hurt if you hadn’t seen that punch coming, and my whole career, everything I’ve worked for, would have been in jeopardy.”
I was shocked but something deep inside me tightened and warmed. “You’re welcome, and don’t worry; your secret is safe with me. I expect you would have done the same in my place. In fact, I should be thanking you for getting us out of there. I would have been in a similar boat if I’d been caught.” I smiled. “So, I suppose we helped each other, Mr. St. Clair.”
“Since we’ve been bonded in blood and apparently are going to be friends now, you can call me Tarik.” He glanced at my hand resting on the table. “How’s your injury?”
I blinked at him, stunned by the invitation to use his given name, before following his stare to the wound I’d sustained at the gaming hell. I smoothed my fingers over the back of my hand, feeling the tight, scabbing skin. Thankfully, our family physician had said I hadn’t needed stitches. I shook my head sadly at him and let out a dramatic sigh. “It was a rather narrow escape from certain peril, but the doctors said I will live, although they’vestipulated that mulish, hard-nosed tutors will need to be exponentially more tolerant of their charges.”
“Mulish and hard-nosed, am I?”
“Capitally.”
When his face broke into a gloriously unbridled grin and displayed that dratted dimple, those pesky wings in my stomach started to flutter again. I ducked my head lest he see my infatuation written all over me. A brusque and stern Tarik St. Clair was dangerous enough, but this affable and charming version of him would be Lady Rosalin’s utter undoing.
Heavens, I’m in so much trouble!
I was almost tempted to ruin the moment with contempt or disdain, to bring my prior tutor back—because at least if he loathed me or mistrusted me, I could keep him at a safe arm’s length. And then I could convince myself I didn’t need to earn any of those riveting dimpled smiles or desire his sincere claims of gratitude.
He’s your tutor, nothing more!
“What about you?” I blurted, hoping to distract myself. “Why did you choose to study mathematics at Trinity College? I know you said that there were more potential opportunities as a Fellow, but surely you had some interest in the field before that.” I coughed. “You’re ridiculously astute on the subject.”
That bright gaze collided with mine, conflicting emotions ebbing and flowing in it, and for a moment, I thought I had snapped the tenuous bonds of our friendship, but then he shrugged one shoulder. “I was originally the recipient of a smallscholarship to St. John’s. My father worked at a gaming hell in Paris, and the owner of the club there, his brother-in-law and my uncle, was a transplanted Englishman, a former subsizar of St. John’s himself.”
“Your uncle went here?”
