“He earned a fellowship after years of study and taught Latin at St. John’s College for a time before joining my parents in Paris to strike out on a new business venture.”
“So, you’re French?” I asked.
“Half, yes,” he replied. “My mother was born in England, though she lived with my father in Montmartre until she died of consumption. My father passed not too long after.” He smiled fondly, his eyes glossing at the memory. “My parents might not have had much, and our apartment was little more than an attic, but they were a love match. He always knew he would follow when she departed this earth. They were les âmes soeurs, as he used to say. Soulmates.” He let out a low and embarrassed laugh, a faint flush dispersing across his cheekbones. “Now who’s a romantic?”
It was a reference to the time we’d spoken of Herschel, when I waxed poetic about the gravitational movement of the stars. My heart clenched, a strange yearning rising in my throat. Did he want to follow in his parents’ footsteps, too, and fall in love with someone who was his perfect match? Findhisâme soeur?
This was one of the times when I wished I could have been here as myself—that he could see the true me. Then I could let my admiration and esteem for him show…and perhaps even have those feelings returned. My throat tightened with animpossible ache for a dream that could never be. There was no way I could admit who I really was. So, for now, my affections would be wholly unrequited.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said quietly.
His mouth creased. “It was a long time ago, but thank you.”
“Did you grow up in Paris, then?” I asked, curious to learn more about him and enjoying this glimpse behind his usually impenetrable, aloof façade.
His eyes lost some of their melancholy. “Until I was sixteen. I attended a lycée where I learned Greek, Latin, philosophy, science, and mathematics. At St. John’s, I discovered I had a particular aptitude for the latter and found myself at Trinity. Mr. Peacock expressed a decided interest in me after I completed the Mathematical Tripos in second place.”
That reminded me of my conversation with James. His remarks about St. Clair not succeeding on his own coattails didn’t quite ring true. “Are you friends with Sir James Lowry?”
Distaste ran over his face. “Why do you ask?”
“He said he took the Tripos in the same year as you. It’s interesting that you both ended up here from St. John’s. Did Mr. Peacock invite him to Trinity as well?”
“Not exactly.” St. Clair’s mouth went tight but then he shook his head. “Look, Roz, keep your wits sharp around him.”
“What do you mean?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and St. Clair pushed the book in front of him over to me. “He will do anything to get ahead.” He cleared his throat. “But we are not here to gossip, and I don’t wish to speak out of turn. Let’s get back to your studies. Canyou identify another mathematician who challenges or expands on Newton’s theories?”
I frowned at the abrupt turnabout. There was obviously some history there, as James hadn’t been charitable in his remarks about St. Clair either. Competition between boys could be just as bad as between girls…or even worse, it seemed.
I shook my head to clear it and refocused on Newton. “Yes. I once read the work of a Frenchwoman named Émilie du Châtelet, who expanded on some theories ofPrincipia.She commented upon and clarified several of Newton’s principles in her own words, which made a lot more sense to me.”
He nodded. “Ah, Voltaire’s mistress.”
I huffed. “Why does every woman need to be in the shadow of some male? Shouldn’t she be known in her own right as a scholar and mathematician?”
“I hardly think she stood in his shadow,” he said, his eyes flashing with something like admiration. “She was a brilliant mathematician, andInstitutions de Physiquewas an excellent book. And you’re right, her understanding of Newton’s mechanics was unparalleled.” He grinned at my instant mollification. “I only mentioned Voltaire because he once called her ‘a great man whose only fault was being a woman.’ ”
“That we can agree upon, though shouldn’t she be great in her own right despite her sex? The mind has no discernible sexual identity. It simplyis…before it becomes distorted by social rules and expectation. A superior path for men, a lesser one for women. It’s conditioned behavior, shaped by morality and ethics, when it should be shaped by caliber,” I said the lastword with such fervent bitterness that he cocked his head, eyes huge.
“You seem very passionate about the subject.”
I wondered how much I could say without giving myself away. There was a line between advocating for my principles and drawing too much interest that might not bode well for me. St. Clair was nothing if not keenly perceptive.
On the one hand, he could also be a man who thought a woman’s place was at home, though on the other, I suspected he was someone who might value, or even share, my provocative opinions, since he seemed intrigued, not outraged. Most gentlemen would be scandalized at the mere suggestion that women, God forbid, might be deserving of the same education as them.
“I am,” I said slowly. “My cousin Lady Rosalin and I used to have lively discussions about geometry and celestial calculations, until her focus became securing a good marriage by being the type of girl society expects her to be as an heiress. Arguably, if it were truly a question of aptitude,shewould be here, not me.”
“Does she enjoy science or mathematics, then?”
“Categorically adores them,” I replied. “She used to solve all the mathematical puzzles in the weekly periodicals and does nautical calculations in her spare time for fun. She would thrive in a place like this. Perhaps one day, women will be allowed to study here, though I suspect it won’t be in our lifetimes.” I waited with bated breath for his reply, knowing it would shape everything I felt about him. He could be the most handsome, cleverest man in all of creation, but if he turned out to be a bigot, it was something I would never be able to abide.
“Sooner rather than later, I hope,” he said, and I nearly let out an audible sigh. “It is an irregular opinion, but I, too, believe that the mind is molded from birth and is nurtured by the environment that surrounds it. Beyond the anatomical size difference, when a world is divided by the sexes, it’s a foregone conclusion that the brain will be, too.” His expression was energized. “To make up for my insensitive comment about Émilie earlier, did you know that her father recognized her genius at age ten and arranged for private astronomy lessons? He, a French peer, chose to nurture her brilliance.”
He waved an arm between us, pointing to himself and then to me. “You and I are given these opportunities by default of being male, ones that some willingly squander, while mothers, daughters, and sisters must unfairly languish in a future that has been charted for them. They don’t have open-minded fathers like Émilie’s. The brain is elastic and pliable, and hungry to learn,regardlessof sex. It absorbs what we choose to feed it.”
My jaw nearly dropped in stupefaction. By God, he was mesmerizing, his wise words falling from his lips like love sonnets. In all the years I’d been out in society, I had never heard a man speak so sincerely about equality between the sexes, especially as it related to intelligence or skill. It was as though the sentiments had been snatched straight from the depths of my own soul.
