A Scandalous Winter Wedding. Marguerite Kaye

      ‘A great deal of credit, if you don’t mind my saying so.’

      ‘It is simply a matter of ratio and proportion. What Luca Pacioli called de divina proportione and Leonardo da Vinci used to great effect. Of chin to forehead. The spacing of the eyes. The alignment of the ears with the nose. The symmetry of a profile. If any of those factors vary from the optimum, then beauty is skewed. My face has no variation, thus it is, mathematically speaking, perfectly beautiful. I hope you are not going to make the obvious mistake of assuming, however, that what is on the outside reflects what is on the inside?’

      ‘Nor am I going to join the ranks of your admirers who, I assume, make the mistake of feigning interest in what goes on behind that perfect visage. Lovely as it is, and I will not deny that I do find you very lovely, would you believe me, Miss Blair, if I tell you that it was rather your air of—it is not aloofness exactly. I’m not sure how to put it, but you strike me as one who coolly observes, if that makes sense?’

      To his astonishment, she blushed, and, judging from the way her hand flew to her cheek, she was just as astonished as he. ‘My father taught me that observation and deduction are the key cornerstones of any scientific field.’

      A tap at the door announced that dinner was served. As the servants set the table with steaming dishes and decanted the wine, Cameron took the opportunity to study his dinner guest. She had spoken impassively, but he was not fooled. His inadvertent compliment had touched her, and her discomfort touched a chord in him.

      His own dark looks had been the source of endless whippings in his early years, an unnecessary effort to forestall any vanity taking root. Taking their lead from those who had wielded the whip, his peers had turned on him, forcing him to become tougher, to use attack as the best form of defence. As an adult, when those same dark looks had attracted a very different kind of attention from women, he’d been first incredulous and then—yes, just as Miss Kirstin Blair was now—he had resented it. No one looked beyond his appearance. Save this most surprising woman, now helping herself from the dish of mutton stew with undisguised hunger.

      ‘Dare I ask if you wish to try the wine?’ Cameron poured her a half-glass and handed it to her.

      She took a cautious sip and nodded her approval. ‘It is not that I am a connoisseur, as you suggested,’ she said, smiling at his obvious relief, ‘it is simply that I have a very sensitive palate.’

      ‘Another gift from nature. Is there no end to her bounty?’

      Miss Kirstin Blair chuckled. ‘I have no talent for drawing, no ear for music and no patience for fools.’

      ‘You can’t blame nature for that.’

      She considered this as she took another sip of wine. ‘It is an interesting question, isn’t it? How much we are formed by nature and how much we form our own nature. Would I be mathematically inclined were it not for my father? I would like to think so, but since I cannot wipe my mind clean and start afresh it is impossible to be certain. Do you take your business acumen from your own father, Mr Dunbar?’

      ‘I doubt it,’ Cameron replied shortly.

      ‘He was not business-minded?’

      ‘I have no idea.’ Nor ever would have now. The vast wasteland that was his heritage would remain empty for ever.

      Kirstin Blair was studying him above the rim of her wine glass dispassionately. ‘I seem to have the knack of inadvertently touching on what you least wish to discuss,’ she said. ‘Though it seemed a natural enough question, given the direction of our conversation…’

      He was obliged to laugh. ‘As I recall, our conversation began with you asking me to tell you what I have deduced about you.’

      ‘Yes, I did, so feel free while I help myself to some of this excellent capon.’

      ‘Firstly, you are not afraid to defy convention, since we’ve already committed several social faux pas, two complete strangers, dining alone together.’

      Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? You think me a rebel?’

      ‘Not exactly.’ Cameron pushed his half-finished plate to one side. ‘You do not, I think, set out to be different, but your combination of clear thinking and the expression of that thinking without any attempt to moderate it makes your personality even more singular than your looks.’

      ‘Singular? That is not, I think, a compliment. It might be construed as meaning odd.’

      ‘It’s the unvarnished truth, just as you prefer it. Am I right?’

      ‘You are.’ She propped her chin on her hand. ‘Tell me more.’

      ‘You cannot be too much in the habit of socialising, else this habit of yours, of speaking your mind, would have been curbed—unless you are in the habit only of socialising with similar-minded people.’ Cameron frowned at this. ‘Since you’ve told me that you take your mathematical inclinations from your father, then I wonder if he is perhaps a professor at the university in Edinburgh?’

      Her half-smile faded. ‘Was.’

      ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

      Kirstin shook her head, looking studiously down at the table to avoid his eyes. ‘He had been ill for some time and died peacefully in his bed, as he wished to do, a month ago.’

      She met his eyes again, almost defiantly, making Cameron think the better of offering his condolences. ‘I presume,’ he said instead, ‘that this loss is the reason for you setting out on this new life of yours, then? You have no other ties to keep you in Edinburgh?’

      Her expression softened, and he knew he’d said the right thing. ‘Very good. My mother died when I was a child. I’ve no other kith or kin. Go on.’

      But Cameron shook his head. ‘I’ll quit while I’m ahead, if you don’t mind. Aside from guessing your age, which I’d say was three or four and twenty…’

      ‘I’m twenty-five.’

      ‘There, you see, I should have held my tongue. As to this new life of yours, that you’re excited about and afraid of in equal parts, all I can say is that it must be something like yourself—unconventional—and nothing so predictable as a post as a governess or a teacher. Unless you’ve found an institution which accepts female mathematicians?’

      ‘I did not even attempt to look. Aside from the fact that few men believe women capable of understanding even the most rudimentary forms of logic, I do not have any formal qualifications. Being a female. It is a vicious circle.’

      ‘Aye, I can see that it is.’

      ‘I’ll tell you the truth,’ Kirstin said. ‘I’ve no complete idea myself of what this new life of mine will be, save that it will be, as you said, unconventional. You are an excellent observer.’

      ‘A high compliment, coming from one such as yourself.’

      ‘Are you teasing me?’

      ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

      She laughed at that. ‘Beneath that very handsome exterior—and don’t pretend you don’t know how very handsome you are—there lurks a personality which could, I suspect, be very intimidating if you chose. I think you would dare almost anything, Cameron Dunbar.’

      ‘Do you now?’ he said, taken aback by this. ‘You don’t seem particularly intimidated, if I may say so.’

      ‘No, but that is because you have not tried to intimidate me, being in need of my company to distract you.’

      ‘And because I’ve taken a liking to you, let us not forget that. I’ve never met anyone like you.’

      ‘The feeling is entirely mutual.’

      ‘Do you believe in fate?’

      ‘It is not a logical concept.’

      ‘No,