“Because I am not expected to pay for it. I do not think they factor in my salary as a performer versus yours as a professor.” It was her turn to smirk at him. “I’ll slip you some pounds once we leave tonight.”
That had him laughing again. “I am quite capable of paying for dinner, Irene. But I appreciate the thought. Yes, on public record, I expect you do gross more than I.”
“On public record.”
“What is a professor to do, when one must make the mortgage and one has an…overabundance of time,” he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, smiling at her with that wicked darkness again, “but find ways to amuse oneself?”
“And if you don’t believe in love, well, I assume your evenings are spent alone.” There was something about that smile of his that sent a not-entirely-unpleasant shiver through her. She had to remember who she was talking to. Not the fictional character—but the manipulative, malicious demigod behind it.
“I never said that.” He lifted his glass. “Simply because my associations with others are not…permanentdoes not mean they are infrequent.”
That had her biting back a laugh that definitely would have been impolite in her current setting.“Well,”she said through an exhale when she was pretty sure she could speak again without snickering. “I hope that’s not how you expect this evening to end.”
“Mm. No. I expected not. This seems more business than pleasure. At least for now.” He paused. “Do let me know if that changes. Though I would hate to damage your reputation, sullying yourself with a lowly professor such as I.”
“Perhaps it would do the world some good to think a man’s intelligence should be valued higher than his influence or the size of his wallet.” She let out a breath. “Not like I believe it ever will.”
“And therein you find the reason why I play the professor by day, where any other profession would have been open to me.” He regarded his wine thoughtfully, swirling the liquid in the glass and watching the light dance off the crimson surface. “The world is eager to disregard ateacher.”
“Save for one.”
“Save for one.” His dark eyes met hers again. “Our mutual annoyance. Tell me, my dear Irene, do you have a remedy in mind?”
It was time to make her move. He was leaving a gap on the board.If she made an effort, she could tell he would follow her lead. Taking a breath, she held it for a moment. “Yes. In fact, I believe I do.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You and he share a similar…predisposition when it comes to the company of others. You spun the world for you find it a waste of your time—physical dalliances to scratch particular itches notwithstanding.” She had to pause as the waiter walked over with their first course. She kept her head held high, not flinching from her topic of conversation. No. She had to show shemeantthis.
Picking up her fork, she glanced down at thefoie grason her plate. Another dish she’d never had before. For some reason, the cruelty of the force-fed goose liver she was staring at felt fitting to the situation. “Save for one exception.”
“I am familiar with the doctor.” He shook his head. “Harming him out of revenge is…trite, don’t you think? Unless you think to hold himhostage.”He laughed, clearly finding the idea a waste of time.
“Hardly anything so mundane. At least, I hope I have managed to come up with something that might be a bit more creative. Enough to suit your tastes, at any rate.” Now she was talking to both of them. MoriartyandVile.
And for a moment, she swore it was both of them smiling back at her. “I’m listening.”?*
“I do not dare pretend that I can contend with Sherlock—or you—in a battle of wits for long.” Taking a bite of thefoie grasshe decided it was…extremely too salty for her tastes. But it’d be rude not to continue eating. So, eat, she did. “That I bested him once in such a regard is a compliment I will not expect to have paid to me twice.”
“Then how do you expect to ‘best’ him?” He arched an eyebrow at her.
“In the other realm in which he finds himself superior to all—the ethical.” Here was the gamble. “We will nothold the doctor hostage. Nor will we kill him out of revenge. But that is not to say that we will not need him to be placed in real danger.”
It was clear she had his full attention. He leaned forward again, ignoring his own first course. “Go on…”
Twisting her napkin in her lap beneath the table, she silently begged her sister for forgiveness. Because if this went wrong? Sidney was introuble.But she had no choice.
Whatever Vile would come up with would be far, far worse.
Sasha braced herself. “I’m going to describe to you something called ‘The Trolley Problem.’”
* And indeed, we were. -V
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Maybe it was the “opium” that Sidney may or may not have actually done.
Maybe it was the constant snapping in and out of consciousness that she was now aware of.
