The feeling of his lips on hers still lingered in the back of her mind.
“Speculation over my love life is unfortunately just part and parcel with my chosen career, I fear. Who shall court the diva today?” She walked down the stairs toward the floor of the lecture hall, taking a second to adjust to the heels she was wearing. She wasn’t really ever much one for fancy shoes. At least they weren’t particularlystupid—just an inch or so. But they weren’t exactly modern, and they weren’t exactly comfortable, either.
“I am spared such things in my line of work.” Moriarty was taller than her, though that wasn’t hard. Probably around six feet-ish. His expression was still detached and a million miles away as he seemed to look past her and onto other things. “Though you must relish it, or else you would not have become a performer.”
“One must follow one’s gifts where they lead. I will not deny that there is some joy that comes with the love of an audience and the freedom that brings. But it is a double-edged sword.” Hopefully she was rising to the occasion of playing her part. It was definitely a lot easier for her to fall into the role of Victorian lady than it wasMr. Smee.
As he led them from the room, she followed alongside as they walked from the lecture hall and through the building. She tried not to gawk too hard at the building. It wasgorgeous.She’d been to England a few times during her masters program, visiting the different colleges there and going to the different libraries. But to see it all done up in Victorian era trappings was something else entirely. Gas lamps burned on the walls, and students in period clothing were gathered around, talking quietly.
Most of the young men stopped to stare at her as she walked by, many of them blushing and smiling and looking away shyly.
She was a little famous. And attractive. She wasdesirable.
That felt kind of nice, actually.
Really nice.
“Yes, I can see how much you loathe the attention,” Moriarty observed dryly from beside her.
She wondered how much of that was Moriarty and how much of that was Vile. She shrugged. “It also comes with a certain kind of freedom that I enjoy that is worth the annoyance of being spoken of and speculated over. Will there be an article in tomorrow’s paper questioning whether or not you and I are now some manner of ‘item’ after our dinner? Yes, perhaps. But am I also able to auditlectures because I wish to further my own intellectual pursuits freely due to my particular standing? Also yes. I would say that is worth it.”
All right, getting into character was kind of fun, she had to admit it.
“What recourse?” Moriarty huffed. “All are welcome to audit lectures.”
“Please, Professor.” It was her turn to look indignant. “Do you think a man who works the steel mills would let his wife and mother of his three children come spend an afternoon listening to you speak? Do you think she wouldn’t sport a black eye for a week for simply suggesting the idea ofbettering herselfto him?”
He paused. Then bowed his head. “You make a fair point.”
Good. He wasn’t arrogant. Well, not entirely. Not arrogant enough that he wouldn’t listen to her. “Where shall we go?”
“I believe I know somewhere private enough to avoid…too much public attention for either of us.” The way his words dropped low at the end made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. And not in an entirely unpleasant way.
What theactual fuckwas wrong with her?
She was talking to Moriarty.TheMoriarty. And she was Irene Adler. It was tempting to sink into the fantasy of it all. But she had to remember what was really at stake.
Holding her clutch, she kept her head high as she walked from the college halls and outside. The sun was just starting to set, and the lamplighters were out—real lamplighters!
It was hard not to smile in excitement, watching the horse-drawn carriages clomp down the sidewalk, the wheels clattering over the cobblestones. London looked fairly similar architecturally, to when she had visited as a college kid. But everything around the buildings was different. The streets, the sidewalks, the railings, the people.
It was beautiful. Absolutelybeautiful.She knew the rest of England wasn’t so lucky, she’d read her fair share on the Industrial Revolution. She knew the price that the rest of society was paying forthe upper class to have their cake and to be able to eat it off clean, non-coal-soot-covered plates and silverware.
But damn it if it still wasn’t amazing to be able to see and experience.
They walked in silence for a stretch as they passed through the crowds of the campus to an area of the road that had fewer people on it.
“I should have asked if you preferred to take a carriage.” Moriarty let out a quiet grunt, the kind of sound a person makes when they suddenly remember they left the stove on. “I do not often walk with women, forgive me.”
“I would have spoken up if it was a problem, I am enjoying the walk. And I should have asked if your wife would be upset to hear of you dining with another woman.” She knew Moriarty wasn’t married—at least, not in the fiction she’d read. But this was a new story, with new wildcards. She’d apparently made up a murderous generator-crocodile. Who knew what she’d already done here?
And her feet might be angry with her later, what with the shitty shoes she was wearing—but whatever. She was enjoying the scenery.
Moriarty was quiet for a beat. “I have no time for relationships.”
Glancing at him, his expression was empty of anything at all. It wasn’t even cold, it was just…blank. When they had been in Neverland, Vile had always been split halfway with Hook—always in the driver's seat. But as Moriarty? She would never have guessed it was him in there, if she hadn’t known better.
It made her very tempted to poke the beehive. “I have an uncle who says the same thing.” She smiled, a bit wryly. “He lives with a likeminded man. I am glad they found a way to split the rent. I wonder, Professor, about your connections to a Mr. Sherlock Holmes—another man with a very busy schedule…you two are acquainted, if I’m not mistaken?”
