The novelty of riding on a train wore thin quicker than Alicia had expected. Perhaps if she had been a commoner who had never ridden in a carriage, or if she did not have Christine’s memories, she would have found it more exciting. However, there was only so long that she could appreciate the sight of the countryside moving past before she inevitably lost interest.

Of course she knew that the train was a marvel of modern engineering. The front held the engine and the coal car, which could pull the whole twenty carriages behind it. The whole train had been painted a deep green, although much of the sleek metal frame of the engine had been stained black by the smoke. Tons of coal were burned each hour, cast into the furnace to boil water and drive the reciprocating pistons, which in turn spun the wheels to relentlessly pull the whole train forward. Miss Hartwright had pointed out several magnolic circuits that had been cast into the wheels that could accelerate the train if necessary, although given the drastically increased expense that was rarely used. As it was, the train was proceeding at a respectable forty miles per hour or so, or at least that was what she’d been told. Compared to Christine’s memories, though, the train felt slow and archaic, and the six wheels of the carriage meant that it shook and rattled around to a disconcerting degree.

At least they had been given the use of the private car at the front of the train, which had six wheels rather than the usual four and an opulent interior, with sets of plush chairs facing each other over polished tables that were bolted into the floor. Lucille and Miss Hartwright were travelling with her, as was her father and his manservant. Her father had business in Ludestre, which was not uncommon--as a Duke, he had a seat in the High House of Parliament and often traveled to the capital whenever there was an important vote. At other times, he would travel to visit acquaintances and allies, or else to discuss his business investments in the Sindhi Continent and the Jatibon Islands.

He had chosen to sit across from her, reading over what looked like a proposed bill, although Alicia occasionally felt his eyes on her instead. She didn’t know what to make of his decision to sit there, nor of his attention, so she ignored it as best she could. She herself was working on a few tricky mathematics problems that Miss Hartwright had given to her to solve. She was still getting used to using a slide rule, and she greatly envied Christine for the use of a calculator, but it still made the process much faster. Occasionally the train would jolt suddenly and her pencil would slip, requiring her to scratch out a sudden mark, but generally she was focused on the task.

“Alicia,” her father said suddenly.

She felt her spine stiffen and she looked up, quickly setting the pencil down. “Yes, your Grace?”

“What is it that you’re working on, there?” He set the bill down, leaning across the table to look at her work.

“It’s a maths problem,” she replied, turning the paper around so that he could read it more clearly. She was suddenly aware that she had let her handwriting become more scrawling than was proper, too focused on trying to solve the problem to give thought to her pride as a noblewoman.

“I can see that,” her father said dryly, and she flushed. “What are you trying to solve?”

“I’m supposed to figure out how to get the most money for a factory,” she said, pointing to the top of the page where Miss Hartwright’s neat handwriting laid out the scenario. “The factory has to spend five pawning per hour for each factory worker, and 15 pawning per pound of raw materials. They have a budget of 37 sterling, which works out to about 3000 pawning. Here we suppose that the revenue can be represented as the product of the hours worked by the laborers and the pounds of raw materials, multiplied by ten.” Her voice became more lively as she went on, tapping on each number with the backside of her pencil as she talked. “The problem, then, is to figure out how many hours of labor and pounds of steel they should buy to make the most profit back.”

“That’s quite a ways off from the actual profit calculations for a factory,” the Duke observed callously, one eyebrow raised. “There are countless other factors involved to determine just how many laborers you need to hire. The revenue calculation seems particularly suspect; if all you needed to do to increase profit by that much was just hire more workers and buy more steel, everyone would be rich.”

Alicia looked down at the paper. “It’s a simple model,” she said, in a subdued voice. “I believe Miss Hartwright chose this to be easier to solve.”

“Well go on, then,” he said. “Show me how you solve it.”

“Yes, your Grace,” she said, trying to keep her enthusiasm in check. Still, there was something almost magical about using math this way, a magic that was completely separate from magnolic blooms. “Well, the first thing I do is write out the revenue and cost equations like this. Then I create the Tournier function by adding the revenue to the negative product of the Tournian multiplier and the cost function. Then I just take the three partial derivatives, set them equal to 0, and when I solve the system of equations I get the results that maximize profit.”

“Which are?” He sat back with his arms crossed.

“100 pounds of steel and 300 hours of labor, yielding 3700 sterling, which is nearly a hundredfold increase on the initial investment.” She smiled brightly with pride, and then in a flash of panic she remembered herself and schooled her expression. She set the pencil down and returned to a more proper posture, looking down at the scrawled figures on the paper. “As you say, though, it’s a simplified problem, Your Grace.”

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The Duke was silent for a long moment, staring at her with an unreadable expression. Alicia could feel a ball of nerves form in her chest, but she refused to let it show on her face.

He reached across the table and gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. His expression was serious and unreadable, and it occurred to her that she couldn’t remember the last time he had spent time alone with her. There was a heavy silence between them for a moment.

“It would seem that your governess was not merely telling tales,” he said at last, releasing her chin.

“Your Grace?” Alicia asked.

“Madam Hartwright informed me of your brilliance in mathematics, but I wanted to see it for myself. I was skeptical and thought she may be exaggerating your achievements to win my favor. It seems I was wrong--her description did not do your talent justice.” He spoke with the same calculated tone as always.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Alicia replied, bowing her head. She was unused to his praise, and in honesty it frightened her. Once her half-brother had been born, the Duke had paid little attention to Alicia, trusting that her tutors (and later her governess) would raise her correctly. Nor did he interfere when the Duchess harshly berated the girl. Interacting with him now felt foreign and almost dangerous.

“Intelligence is not merely a gift, Alicia, and that holds doubly true for a young lady. I suspect you will find it to bring you more woe than joy.” He sighed. “If only you had been born a man; much would be different.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. It seemed to her that the issue lay less with her sex than with their society, but she didn’t have the nerve to say that to him. He didn’t seem to expect a response.

“Well, we all must meet the world on our own terms. I hope for your sake that Prince Alsander is not bothered by a woman with a clever mind for figures.” He shook his head slightly and she felt a strange sense of shame, bringing on its heels a degree of cold fury. She pushed both feelings away, not letting them show on her face. She must have succeeded, for the Duke continued on unabated.

“In any event, we will soon be arriving in Ludestre. I understand this will be your first time in the city, but I ask that you do not behave like a country yokel. While you are attending the afternoon tea, I ask that you remember your station and do not embarrass our house. You are aware of your duties?” He raised one eyebrow expectantly.

She bowed her head and recited, “I am to make connections with the other children at the tea party. I must remember the names and faces of all that I meet, and greet all with both grace and pride. I will condescend to greet those of lower rank, and will defer to any above me in rank.”

“In general, that is correct,” the Duke said. “However, you seem to have forgotten the reason for this visit.”

Alicia flushed. “Additionally, I shall find an opportunity to channel, and thus put rest to any rumors that I have wilted.”

“Indeed,” the Duke replied. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small stack of paper, which she recognized to be a chequebook. He set it on the table and quickly filled out the top paper before neatly tearing it off and handing it to Alicia. “Here, take this.”

Confused, she took the check, then glanced down at it. Her eyes widened when she saw that it had been made out to her, and then widened further as she saw the numeral written in the line for the amount. “Two hundred sterling,” she read incredulously.

“Some pocket money while we’re in the city,” the Duke replied. “Bridgeford is fine for what it is, but for true fashion there is nowhere that compares with Ludestre. It would do you good to visit a proper boutique.”

“But this amount, Your Grace,” she started, but was cut off by a wave of the hand.

“It is not much more than is already spent on your wardrobe each season. I have already discussed this with your governess, and she is willing to aid you in your selections. However, do not expect me to purchase any more dresses for the rest of the year.”

“Shall I return what is left unspent, Your Grace?” The question was daring, but this could be the opportunity she was waiting for.

He raised an eyebrow, then let out a rare chuckle. “I have seen the receipts from your shopping trips before, Alicia. I do not expect there to be much left over--but let this be a lesson in restraint. Yes, you may spend the remainder on whatever else you desire.”

She still felt daring, so she asked, “Why give me this, Your Grace?”

He gave her a sharp look and she returned her gaze to the table. She knew it was impertinent, but she couldn’t help it. Fortunately, he didn’t choose to push the issue.

“One day, my daughter, you will marry Prince Alsander.” He gave her a small, tight smile. “You will be crowned a Princess of the country, and you will be placed in charge of his household. When that day comes, I would prefer that you know the value of money and do not reflect poorly on your brother or me.”

She didn’t reply immediately. His words had a cold, calculated logic that made sense, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was hiding anything beneath them. The sum she knew was quite large, and what’s more, it was exactly what she needed for her plans. Originally she had intended to pawn some of her jewelry to raise the capital she needed, but this would be a far lower risk. It made her wonder how much her father knew of her plans. Their interactions were few enough that she hadn’t expected him to suspect much, but now she was less sure. Still, if he did, it seemed that he may tacitly approve; at the least he hadn’t made any moves to stop her.

The carriage was filled with the rattling sounds of the railway. Beyond the window panes, the countryside had lost its rolling hills and transitioned to forest, the trees hanging leaves of dying green, blushing orange, deep scarlet, and faded brown. A city was ahead, with some challenges she expected and others that were impossible to know.

“I understand,” she said at last. “Thank you for this opportunity, Your Grace.”

He nodded and then returned to his paperwork, signalling that the conversation was over. She tried to return to her math, but she was occupied with other questions that made it difficult to focus. Shortly, the smoke stacks and high steeples of Ludestre rolled into view, and she gave up on the math problems entirely.