Page 102 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“I made arrangements for your mother to spend the night at Mivart’s,” he said, referring to the hotel, “even if I do think it’s your father who should find himself a room for the night. She agreed that leaving before he caught wind of her presence was wise.”

“You did well,” Oliver said, his voice wavering. “She can stay here once he’s left.”

“I know this is not the most opportune time,” Hughes murmured, “but you’re expected at the seminar.”

Oliver sighed in resignation. But, with Hughes’s words suspended in the darkened hallway, he realized that more lay in store for him.

And for Kalila.

And there was no amount of drama he wouldn’t go through if she were on the other side of it. For her, he thought, he would go through anything.

Oliver gathered himself up and allowed Hughes to ready him for the evening. By the time he was dressed, he looked as if he hadn’t experienced even the slightest bit of heartbreak that day. Funny how a bit of polishing and dressing up could do that to a person.

Bidding farewell to Hughes, Oliver made his way to the university. The seminar was to be held in the great hall, which was teeming with people by the time he arrived. Oliver scanned the crowd, catching sight of a head of curly blond hair.

Kalila?

The person in question turned around, revealing himself to be Dameer Rafiq.

The Dameer Rafiq.

*

When Kalila had said she was done impersonating her cousin, she’d meant it.

It was Dameer who’d found her pacing around the attic with nervous energy. He’d sighed and said, “Let me accompany you to the seminar, Kal. You’ll combust if you stay up here.”

And that was how they’d ended up in the university’s great hall. A number of seminars were scheduled to take place, and a lavish dinner was to follow. Dameer’s name had, of course, been on the list. Kalila stood beside him in a dress of navy-blue silk trimmed with ribbons and lace, scanning the room.

“Where is he?” she murmured.

“Who?”

“Jennings.”

“Rafiq!” a voice boomed, startling both Kalila and Dameer. They soon caught sight of Comerford cutting through the crowd, attendees parting before him like the Red Sea.

“I regret everything that has brought me to this moment,” Dameer mumbled as Kalila took hold of his arm, gripping onto it for dear life.

“Just play along,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d attend,” Comerford said, coming to a stop before them. That he did not realize he was speaking to a completely different Dameer Rafiq almost came as a surprise.

But Kalila supposed it made sense. Laurence Comerford was not the type to pay attention to details that did not concern him.

“I wasn’t sure myself,” Dameer said. Without pausing for breath, he continued. “Might I introduce you to my cousin, Miss Kalila Darwish?”

Comerford’s pale eyes shifted to Kalila. As expected, his face betrayed no sign of recognition. He smiled at her from underneath his bushy mustache. “Cousin, you say?”

“Yes…?” Dameer said, the word sounding more like a question than a statement of fact.

“Tell me, Miss Darwish,” Comerford said in what Kalila thought was an oddly condescending tone. “Are you the young lady who convinced Rafiq here to ask me to let women into the Society?”

“I wouldn’t own up to it even if I had,” Kalila said, her tone cool and controlled, “considering how swift you were in your rejection of the idea.”

Comerford let out a sharp bark of laughter. “She’s a spirited lass, Rafiq.”

“She’s a scientist,” Dameer corrected.