He appeared thoughtful, doodling mathematics in the margin of his newspaper. Then she noticed the numerals and their odd arrangement in his formulae. When she quit trying to understand the equation and took in the whole, Sophia gasped as she saw outlined figures—two of them, male and female—engaged in the very act that had transpired last night in his bedchamber.
“Wil, what is that?”
He hummed. “Just the product of a bit of inspiration. If I can solve this equation, I may have discovered the solution to a divergence of the harmonic series paradox. Architects everywhere will petition my sainthood.”
Sophia muttered, “Yes, darling. Submit that to the Oxford department of mathematics.” The addition of a horizontal figure eight—the infinity sign–and the number 1 made it even worse when combined with a zero.
He shot her his rakish pirate smirk. “Simple calculus. The equation is completely viable.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Lovely, how she inspired him to expound on his talent. Put that in a history book: Anne-Sophronia Montegue: muse for mathematical erotica.