Page 20 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“Dunn,” she said, mimicking the way she’d seen the other men speak to each other the day before. Dunn was tall and wiry, with a constant air of sheepishness about him.

He dragged a stool before her and took a seat, giving her an eager look. “You disappeared before I could speak with you yesterday. I wanted to thank you for such a stimulating conversation and to let you know how delighted I am that you decided to join us.”

Kalila swelled with pride—and more than a little astonishment. “Thank you.”

“We have much to discuss, I’m sure,” Dunn continued with unmistakable warmth. “While I can’t claim to fully understand your theories, I do want you to know that I’ve always backed the publication of your work.”

So she did have friends at the Society after all. Kalila knew that she’d need the support of others if she wanted to have any impact on the workings of the group, and it seemed her tireless efforts at publication had already won Dunn over. Despite the ecstasy swelling in her chest, she gave him what she hoped was a nonchalant smile. “Thank you. I—”

She was interrupted by Comerford’s booming voice, informing the group that the day’s session was about to begin.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Today we will be constructing slides using preprepared tissue sections. On your benches, you will find a jar of Canada balsam, which—”

The lecture went on as the men were taken through the process of putting slides together. All in all, the session went without incident. Even Mr. Booth remained quiet, absorbed in his work. Thus far, they had only exchanged a nod in greeting, which suited Kalila just fine. The only interruption came in the form of a soft knock at the door.

“Enter!” Comerford barked, startling Talbot into dropping his slide on the floor. It let out a depressing tinkle as the glass broke. “From the top, Talbot,” Comerford instructed as the door opened a crack. A short man stuck his head into the room, his manner meek.

“Excuse me,” he squeaked, eyes darting around the laboratory as if taking stock of the number of predators. “I’m from the Zoological Society. I’m here to feed Virginia.”

“Virginia!” Oliver crowed, seemingly stuck on the snake’s name still.

“Booth,” Comerford warned. He signaled at the man in the doorway to enter before examining the group with an air of authority. “I think it is necessary to determine Virginia’s feeding schedule so as to avoid being caught by surprise next time. I will return shortly, and I expect you to have made progress when I do.”

Kalila turned back to her slide as he marched out of the laboratory. The other men, however, seemed very interested in what was happening at the back of the room. Blatantly ignoring Comerford’s orders, they kept their attention focused on the nervous Zoological Society member as he tried to grasp at a wriggling mouse that had been carried into the room in a small container.

“Poor little thing,” Talbot murmured. “I can’t watch.”

Jennings scoffed. “What sort of man are you?”

Kalila bristled as the remark reached her ears, but she forced herself to bite her tongue. She had to walk a fine line for these men to think of her as one of their own.

“Shut up, Jennings,” Oliver said. Before she could stop herself, Kalila’s eyes snapped to his. He gave her his signature crooked smile before turning his gaze back to Jennings and Talbot. “Nobody has to watch if they don’t want to.”

The zoologist finally took hold of the squirming mouse in one hand and began to attempt to remove the glass that sat atop Virginia’s tank. After a moment of silence in which everyone in the room watched him struggle, Oliver sighed.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered, leaving his bench and taking a step toward the back of the room.

A tiny flicker of fondness sprouted in Kalila’s chest—one that she did not have the time to snuff out before the room exploded in chaos. Before Oliver could reach Virginia’s lodgings, the mouse had bitten the zoologist hard enough to be dropped. It darted across the room, scaring the wits out of Talbot, who scrambled onto his stool with a shriek.

Young rushed over to close the door, effectively trapping the microscopists inside with a panicked mouse and a bleeding zoologist. Virginia, meanwhile, poked her head out of the half-opened tank, clearly interested in the commotion and quite possibly plotting her own escape. Kalila pressed herself against her bench to avoid being mowed over by Dunn, who made a clumsy grab for the mouse. Two things were made clear to her: one, that these men had absolutely no idea how to scruff a rodent, and two, that she would have to take matters into her own hands—literally. She crouched, remaining very still.

“Hiding, Rafiq?” Jennings snorted in apparent disapproval.

Kalila ignored him and, as soon as the mouse came zipping by, quickly snatched it up by the scruff and stood, holding it up in triumph for all the men to see.

A reverent silence fell.

“Thank goodness,” Talbot sighed, freeing himself from his stool.

Young nodded. “Fine job, Rafiq.”

Jennings returned to his seat, having chosen to sulk rather than congratulate Kalila on her reflexes. Kalila, meanwhile, made the mistake of looking at Oliver, who was staring at her with an admiring grin. That same fondness settled into her, much to her annoyance.

“Sir?” the zoologist said. Everyone turned to look at him as if having forgotten that he was in the room. “Might you come drop the mouse into the tank?”

Kalila paused, considering. “I think,” she said, “this mouse has earned his freedom.”

“But Virginia—”