Page 105 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“The credit,” Oliver said, ignoring him, “goes entirely to one Miss Kalila Darwish who, I believe, is sitting in this very room.”

At this, the room exploded in activity and loud chatter. People began turning their heads, attendees placed their hands over their mouths in amazement, and more than one person uttered the words, “A woman?”

Kalila, meanwhile, was beginning to feel lightheaded.

“That is enough,” Comerford thundered, shocking the crowd into submission. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, the seminar portion of this evening has concluded. Please move to the adjacent room for dinner. Now.”

Dameer stood, his arm wrapped protectively around a dazed Kalila and made an attempt to join the file of people that were leaving the room.

“Rafiq!” Comerford barked.

Dameer froze.

“You will come with me,” Comerford said, his voice dripping in fury. “And you,” he said, turning to Jennings and Oliver, “will follow.”

“But—” Dameer attempted.

“Now.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The problem, Oliver thought, was that individual confrontation did nothing. Alone, Comerford could dismiss him. Alone, Jennings could simply deny any wrongdoing.

So why not bring the whole thing to light in front of a crowd of people? And while a part of him had delighted in the drama of it all, the fact was that his hand had been forced. If Comerford wouldn’t listen, then Oliver would make him listen.

Anything for Kalila.

Comerford ushered them all into the nearest study, slamming the door behind him. Anger radiated off him in waves as he turned to face them, sweat beading on his forehead.

“What in God’s name,” he demanded, “is going on?”

Oliver exchanged a glance with Kalila, who had paled. Dameer stood by her, one vigilant hand on her shoulder. Jennings, meanwhile, had separated from the group and had gone to sulk by the door.

“Booth,” Comerford barked. “Would you care to explain why you saw fit to ruin the evening?”

“I think I improved upon it, actually,” Oliver said, despite knowing it would only increase Comerford’s vitriol toward him.

“And would someone care to tell me who exactly the alleged author of this paper is?” Comerford waved the offending object in the air while making it clear that he’d chosen to bypass Oliver’s remark.

“I am,” Kalila said, stepping forward. “You know me as Dameer Rafiq, Mr. Comerford.”

Comerford narrowed his eyes at her before turning to examine Dameer. “That is utterly ridiculous. Dameer Rafiq is in this room.”

“That may be so,” Dameer said, his voice steady, “but I did not write that paper. I barely know what a microscope is. I let Kalila use my name.”

Comerford stilled. “Why?”

“Because she’s my cousin,” was Dameer’s perplexed response.

An almost comical pause settled as everyone in the room considered this.

“And you!” Comerford exploded, whirling around to face Jennings. “Explain yourself.”

Jennings sniffed. “There’s nothing to explain.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Come off it, Jennings. You’ve lost.”

“Explain the theories, then,” Kalila said, her intelligent eyes ablaze. The color, Oliver noticed, had returned to her face. She turned to Comerford. “Do you not realize that it was the Society’s feedback that guided my work? Jennings would not have had access to my earlier drafts. They’d all been returned to me.”