A Most Naked Solution Read Online Free Page B

father to wait for her in town, it was because she had to prove to herself that she was strong enough to leave on her own. Strong enough to walk out the door and not bend when Richard grew angry, or worse, when he wept and claimed he couldn’t do without her. Strong enough not to fear his fists when she defied him.
    Her father had sworn he’d put a bullet through Richard’s head before letting him set foot in this house again.
    Three hours later Richard was dead.
    The carriage hit a rut, rattling her teeth so hard she bit her tongue. The taste of blood in her mouth was so familiar she didn’t even wince.
    So had she been wrong all along? Her father was a famed diplomat. He praised negotiation and reconciliation. But she’d never seen him enraged before. In fact, she’d never seen him even slightly angered.
    Had she been too quick to think him a killer?
    Sophia closed her eyes briefly, shivering in the chill as the clouds swallowed the sun.
    The next rut drove her against Lord Grey’s shoulder, fleetingly reminding her of the time she’d accidentally brushed against him as he’d hurried up to the schoolroom to teach her brother. She hadn’t slept at all that night, trying to commit the feel of his arm to memory.
    Apparently, she hadn’t been as efficient as she’d thought. She didn’t remember the thickness of his shoulder or the smooth slope of muscle. Or perhaps that was new?
    She peered around his shoulder, trying to distract herself. “What are you studying?”
    “I’m trying to find a formula for the roots of a fifth-degree polynomial equation in terms of the coefficients of the polynomial, using only the usual algebraic operations.”
    She liked how he left it at that, expecting her to understand.
    Or perhaps he thought it too far beyond her and didn’t want to be bothered to explain.
    She watched him study the paper as they travelled, occasionally repeating a number aloud. Or shuffling to find another page to compare some equations. He often squinted and lifted a page closer to his face. After a few of these adjustments, he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, then pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket. He cleared his throat. “Some of the writing is hard to read.” He cut another quick look at her again before slipping them on.
    She could have told him he had no reason to fear her mockery. The spectacles only emphasized the masculine strength to his cheekbones and the keen brilliance in his eyes.
    When his long finger slid along a column of numbers, she felt it along her spine. She needed a distraction from her distraction.
    Who wanted her dead? That should be the real question occupying her thoughts. Richard had wooed dozens of mistresses and countless lovers, but he was dead. She couldn’t imagine why one of them would be trying to kill her years later. And Richard had stripped one thing after another from her until she’d been left with nothing. No friends of her own. No enemies, either.
    A disturbing thought occurred to her. “ You don’t have any enemies, do you, Lord Grey?”
    “Hmm?” he asked, his attention on the paper.
    “Do you have any enemies?”
    He looked up, his mind obviously still elsewhere. She could see the exact moment when his concentration latched onto her, his gaze pinning her like a butterfly to cork.
    “Enemies? No.” But then he frowned. “At least none who know how to shoot a rifle.” A grin flitted across this face. “Ipswith wouldn’t know which end to point. I’m a mathematician, Lady Harding. We’re not precisely known for our violent tendencies.”
    She’d seen his face as he watched for her attacker. She didn’t doubt that he was capable of violence. “You were in the army.”
    He tucked the paper he’d been reading back into the folder. “As an engineer. And I’m by far the exception in the Royal Mathematical Society.”
    His arrogance reminded her so much of Darton that she couldn’t help smiling. Heavens, she was half-amazed the