Page 107 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“What about me?” Jennings interjected, hands still covering his nose. “I was assaulted!”

“Shut up, Jennings,” Kalila snapped. She walked up to the desk where Comerford had dropped her paper. Gathering it against her chest, she nodded at Oliver. “Thank you for trying.”

“Kalila, I—”

“I’ll wait for you,” she said softly.

He watched as Dameer opened the door for her, the two of them disappearing into the hall.

“Get out, Jennings,” Oliver said.

Jennings stamped his foot in indignation. “I ought to file a report with the police.”

“If that is what it takes for you to leave this room, then have at it.”

With one final grunt of frustration, Jennings left, slamming the door behind him. Oliver and Comerford faced each other in silence.

“Sir,” Oliver began. “I—”

“I cannot let you back into the Society, my boy,” Comerford rumbled, the endearment breaking Oliver’s heart. “You’ve gone too far this time.”

“That was not what I intended to say,” Oliver said, having to work doubly hard to stop his voice from breaking.

Why is this so hard? I thought I’d made peace with this.

This being the fact that he could no longer rely on Comerford as he once had. It felt like a sort of grief, really, even if the severing of whatever tied them was ultimately the best thing to do.

Comerford propped himself against the edge of the desk. “Say your piece, then.”

Oliver took a deep breath. “You—you were always there for me when I most needed it,” he began, forcing himself to hold Comerford’s gaze. “But you weren’t really there, were you? You were only physically present.”

“I can’t say I follow,” Comerford murmured.

“Of course you don’t,” Oliver said. “You’ve no idea why I needed the Society, what my life is like outside of the walls of this building. And that’s fine. You’ve disappointed me, but it’s partially my fault for having placed you on a pedestal in the first place.”

Comerford knit his brows together. “I’ve disappointed you?”

Oliver gestured at the door. “Why won’t you allow her in?”

Comerford sighed. “A Society that has men and women working side-by-side in close quarters is just—is just not done, Booth. I don’t need to explain why.”

“But you could ignore all that,” Oliver protested, his throat tight with emotion. “Couldn’t you?”

“How could I? Who would take our research seriously?”

“You are one of the most respected figures in this community,” Oliver told him. “The others would bend to you in a heartbeat.”

“You don’t know that.”

Oliver studied him for a moment before saying, “You don’t think she’s capable.”

“What am I meant to think of a woman who dressed up as her cousin to infiltrate a Society of men?” Comerford asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“You’re meant to think her ambitious,” Oliver said. “What would you have her do, exactly?”

“Stay home,” Comerford burst out in exasperation. “I would have her stay home, Booth. I would have her keep house and raise children. That is what I would have her do.”

“So you’ll impede progress simply because you cannot look past your own beliefs about what women ought to be doing,” Oliver said, his insides growing hollow. “You—that makes you a terrible scientist.”