Page 59 of An Unfamiliar Duke

Rosalind squirmed uncomfortably. “In truth, my governess taught me little more than addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. I learned about area and volume in one of my father’s books in the library.”

He chuckled. “Somehow, that does not surprise me.”

“Yes, but I must have misunderstood something.” She pointed to the calculation she had noticed earlier beside the diagram of the cylinder. “Why is the volume of this cylinder derived from multiplying two numbers with no mention of pi?”

Sebastian looked at the lines of arithmetic above her finger. His brows came together, and his mouth moved as he whispered the calculations aloud. When he reached the total at the end, he flipped the paper over. It was blank.

“No,” he muttered. “It cannot possibly be that simple.” Reaching across the table, he pulled the pile of papers toward him and began riffling through them, finally pulling out a page showing a larger version of the cylinder Rosalind had already seen, but this one was connected to two big cogs.

He studied the page, his forefinger running along the lines of calculations as he read through them. He turned another page. And then another.

“Sebastian? What is it?”

He leaned back in his seat and stared at her. “Unbelievable.”

“What is unbelievable?”

“You are, my incredibly brilliant Rosalind.”

“But I have done nothing.”

“On the contrary, my dear, you have just saved me. And Meikle, come to that.”

If Sebastian did not stop talking in circles, she would go mad. “Please explain,” she said.

“In under a minute, you spotted a rudimentary error in calculating the volume of a cylinder,” he said. “It was so incredibly basic that it has been overlooked for weeks—possibly months.” He shook his head. “I would be willing to bet that Meikle did not even bother to check this page before he sent me all seventy-seven others.”

“You mean to tell me that you have found the problem you’ve been looking for all this time?”

“No, Rosalind.” His eyes met hers, and the very air seemed to still. “You found it.”

Not only was the workshop extremely bad for Rosalind’s heart rate, but her head was also beginning to spin. “So . . . so what happens now?”

His gaze flickered to her lips, and he took a short breath. “Now? Now we each eat a Chelsea bun to celebrate.”

“But I have not yet done any arithmetic.”

He drew the plate closer. “I believe you did it while I was asleep.”

Rosalind shook her head. “Not really. You must know that.”

He offered her a bun before claiming one himself and taking a big bite. Chewing slowly, he closed his eyes and uttered an appreciative sound. “Tell me that is not the best thing you have tasted all day.”

She swallowed a piece of sweet, fluffy goodness. “It is most definitely the best thing I have tasted all day.”

“You see?” He opened his eyes. “Further proof that you are a genius.”

“Sebastian.” He was incorrigible. He knew full well that she could not do anything more with the lines and lines of numbers on all those pages.

He laughed. “Very well. After we have eaten, you may help me recalculate the volume of that all-important cylinder. I will need to then redo all the sums that include the incorrect figure.”

“How long will that take?” She tried not to show her dismay. He had been so close to putting the project behind him.

Perhaps he was experiencing similar regret because he stared at the sheets littering the desk and squared his shoulders. “I will have it finished before the courier arrives the day after tomorrow, if it’s the last thing I do.”

* * *

Rosalind stared at the new entries in her diary, a smile playing across her lips. 15. He is willing to teach me arithmetic. 16. He trusts me. She was not sure which one brought her more joy.