Balancing on the third rung of a spindly library ladder, Rachel reached for the thick leather-bound volume she’d come to find: Elements of Chemistry, translated from French by Robert Kerr. Carefully, she pulled it off the shelf, aware that the weight of it would soon threaten to put her off balance. So she braced her feet against the side rails and leaned into the ladder. The book came free, almost slipping from between her fingers as she tried to secure a stronger hold on it.

“What do you have there?”

Startled by the presence of another person standing immediately behind her, Rachel gasped and dropped the book, helplessly watching its rapid descent until a hand suddenly swooped out and caught it. Rachel turned to find Belgrave studying its title.

“My lord.” Slowly, she stepped down off the ladder only to realize the viscount now had her at a disadvantage for his height was far superior to her own. She gestured toward the book. “If I may?”

Lifting his gaze, he allowed a couple of seconds to elapse while studying her closely – so closely she couldn’t help but shift her feet. Still, she refused to look away, unwilling to cower beneath his direct perusal.

“Do you ever indulge in fiction, my lady?” He allowed her to retrieve her prize while tilting his head as though trying to comprehend her.

Instinctively, she tightened her jaw and raised her chin so she could look at him more fully. “No.”

“Hmm…” His eyes remained locked with hers. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I cannot possibly imagine.”

A dimple appeared at the edge of his mouth, and then he suddenly smiled, the brightness of it infusing his eyes with a deep blue tone reminiscent of midnight. His hair was swept to one side with a few rebellious strands brushing his brow in a manner that tempted her to reach out and put them to rights. Controlling the urge, she became increasingly aware of her own drab appearance. She was like a boring little field mouse when compared to his dashing good looks. The idea gave her pause, and she took a step back, unnerved by the notion that she’d never wasted a second on such superficiality before.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

She meant to move past him, but he stuck out his arm, trapping her between it and the ladder. Slowly, he lowered it with the unspoken request that she stay where she was. “Please.” Turning slightly, he gestured toward a quiet corner filled with comfortable-looking chairs. “Won’t you join me for a bit?”

“I…” No man had ever invited her to sit with him before, and it put her quite out of her depth. Her nerves, which were generally made of steel, felt fragile, unpleasantly quivering and quaking. She clutched the book in front of her chest. “I’m not—”

“Perhaps you can tell me more about your interests?” He nodded toward the book. “Your scientific studies?”

“My lord, you cannot possibly mean to find my thoughts enticing enough to warrant such interest on your part.” There had to be an angle – an ulterior motive.

He studied her gravely and then leaned in, close enough for her to catch the scent of bergamot and leather. It did something to her senses, something heady she could not quite understand. One thing was certain: her heart beat faster against the inexplicable tightening of her stays, and she was suddenly quite incapable of speech.

“You do me a great injustice.” He spoke in a rich timbre that curled its way through her. “To presume I will not understand the ideas you might put forth is—”

“My lord?” She blinked in quick succession. “You think I believe myself intellectually superior to you? That this is the cause for my reluctance?” It seemed incredulous that a man of his superb character would doubt himself in her company.

“Is that not what you were implying?”

She gaped at him. “No! I merely meant to suggest you would regret engaging me in conversation, not because you lack the mental faculty to comprehend me, but because I am not…” She lost her momentum and sighed.

“You are not?” he prompted, raising both eyebrows in question.

“My lord, you must agree I am not a terribly fascinating person.”

A frown appeared on his brow. “Who told you that?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I am perfectly aware of my lacking elegance, refinement, and beauty. I am not as accomplished as my sisters, nor as lively or prone to good cheer. Life is like an equation to me, one I am constantly trying to puzzle through.”

“And this keeps you serious? It demands a degree of focus that will not allow for humor?”

“Exactly.” She was so glad he understood.

“And yet I have seen you smile and laugh at least once during the course of this conversation, so I daresay you might be less stern than you think yourself to be.” He allowed his eyes to drift over her so slowly, strange little fluttering sensations sprang to life in her belly. Returning his gaze to hers, he said, “As for the part about elegance, refinement, and beauty, I can assure you you’re quite mistaken.”

“My lord, I—”

“Please, let’s not quarrel any further over trivialities. As it is, we have already stood here for a good ten minutes according to the clock on that table. Why not rest our feet for a while?” He gestured once more toward the seating arrangement.

Rachel hesitated. If only she could manage to escape without being rude. Because the way he made her feel… Good lord, it was more unnerving than the idea of one day presenting an invention to the Royal Society in the hope of being admitted. Still, the thought of talking to someone who seemed willing to listen was tempting.

“Very well,” she agreed.

They crossed the floor, and he waited until she was comfortably seated before asking, “Would you care for some refreshment? I can call for a maid and ask for some tea or lemonade to be brought up.”

Pressing her lips together, Rachel wondered how much more of herself she might reveal before he went running in the opposite direction. She decided to test his resolve in keeping her company and quietly said, “A brandy would be my preference, if you’re willing to indulge me.”

His lips quirked with amusement, and he turned toward a nearby table with a rich selection of bottles. “So full of surprises,” he murmured, filling two glasses. “Tell me, do you also fence?”

Pleased with his response, she allowed a smile of her own, though it was directed at his back. “No,” she admitted, “I prefer archery and shooting. Indeed, I take great pride in calculating the trajectory of each shot I fire.”

“Good God.” He turned to her with a laugh, spilling a bit of the drink in the process. “To think you haven’t been snatched up yet by a gentleman seeking adventure.”

She snorted, accepting the glass he handed to her. “I am hardly the sort of lady to offer such a thing to any man.”

“Hmph.” Brushing his coattails out from behind him, he lowered himself to the chair closest to hers. “You sell yourself short, Lady Rachel, for indeed, I can think of no greater adventure than inventing the future while engaging in bloodthirsty sport.” He smiled broadly over the rim of his glass, held her gaze for a moment, and then took a hasty sip.

She drank as well, if for no other reason than to settle the butterflies in her stomach.

“Do you have other experiments in mind beside the electric arc?” Belgrave asked. He leaned back in his chair and nodded toward her book.

Crossing his legs, he held his glass between his hands while studying her with an intense degree of focus she’d never before been subjected to. It filled her with an unusual sense of importance – made her feel as though she mattered when she was more accustomed to fading away in the background.

“Of course.” Now that she’d been invited to speak, she hardly knew where to begin. “I’ve successfully followed Priestley’s guidelines on how to isolate oxygen, and I’ve conducted numerous experiments on the conservation of mass as proposed by Antoine Lavoisier, the author of that book.” She indicated the volume with a wave of her hand before taking another sip of her drink. The brandy immediately soothed her insides.

“What does it entail?”

“It’s quite simple, really.” She smoothed her skirts in an effort to ease her pulse with a menial task. “The law states that in a closed system, the reactants will weigh the same as the product.”

“In other words, if you were to heat a block of ice in a sealed container until it was fully melted, the weight of the container and its contents would remain unchanged?”

“That’s right. But if the system is open, mass is lost. What I mean to discover is why, since I refuse to believe it simply disappears. No. I suspect it transforms into some sort of gas.”

“Into oxygen perhaps?”

“I don’t think so, but the only way to find out is to somehow isolate it. The most fascinating part of my hypothesis is that its mass must equal the amount lost in the final product.”

He dipped his head. “What fascinates me, aside from your brilliant brain, is how you have managed to conduct your experiments without your parents realizing what you were up to.”

“I acquired a small stove for my bedchamber,” Rachel confessed. “It remains covered when not in use, and since I only work at night...To be honest, the fault is my own. I don’t make a habit of sharing my fondness for science with others.”

“And yet, you chose to do so with me.”

She found it impossible to look at him all of a sudden, for he’d lowered his voice to a sensual tone that tempted her with something she’d never wanted before – something she’d never dared hope might be hers.

“Your attentiveness was difficult to ignore.”

A bit of silence slid into place, and she suddenly felt an urgent need to flee from this man before she played the fool and wished for something that could never possibly be. Because as interesting as he might find her intellectually, she knew she wasn’t the sort of woman to inspire deep emotion in anyone. After all, she did own a mirror, so she was fairly certain that whatever compliment he’d paid her earlier about her beauty had been done so out of kindness rather than honesty. So she stood and snatched up the book while he looked at her in confusion.

“If you’ll please excuse me,” she said, “I fear I’ve kept you long enough.” She turned and walked away quickly, acknowledging that the lady who won Lord Belgrave’s affection would be a lucky woman indeed.