Page 82 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

Curiosity swept through the room as all the scientists redirected their attention to their instructor.

“Many a respectable person will be in attendance, so please ensure that you’re dressed in your best evening wear,” Comerford continued, sounding a bit like he was lecturing a room full of children.

“Who will be presenting?” Young asked.

“Considering the revelation we were introduced to the other day, I would like to invite Jennings to speak,” Comerford declared. To Kalila, he said, “Don’t worry, Rafiq. I’ll make sure you’re given due credit.”

Kalila did not respond. Not only was Jennings going to steal her work—the bastard—but now he was going to give a seminar on it? Anger began to bubble in her veins, white hot and relentless.

“I’m honored, sir,” Jennings simpered.

“Jesus Christ,” was all Oliver whispered from beside her.

“That will be all,” Comerford concluded. “I must be off, as there is still much to prepare. Make sure to clean up after yourselves. Dunn, you take care of the key. I will see you all tomorrow night.”

With that, he left the room, leaving the door wide open in his wake. Kalila could hear the violent beating of her own heart in the silence that followed. Without thinking, she turned to Jennings.

“Are you truly going to take ownership of work that isn’t yours?” she demanded. “Have you no shame?”

Jennings gave her a disdainful sniff. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jennings,” Oliver warned.

“For Christ’s sake, Rafiq, you’ll get your credit,” Jennings said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “There’s no need for you to be such a bad sport.”

“This is ridiculous,” Dunn put in. “Even for you.”

“You stole it?” Talbot asked, crestfallen and clearly very much out of the loop.

“Yes.” Kalila was unable to shift her focus away from Jennings’s slimy face. “Those new details are mine. I am the one who—”

Jennings spoke over her. “Comerford seems to believe otherwise.”

“You—you can’t possibly give a seminar on it,” Kalila sputtered. “You don’t know the first thing about my theories.”

“Don’t insult me, Rafiq.” Jennings stood and retrieved his overcoat, five pairs of eyes tracking his every move. “You’ll only make a fool of yourself.”

Kalila’s mouth fell open as he sailed out of the room. He didn’t care that what he was doing was wrong, and there was nothing any of them could do to convince him otherwise.

“What can we do?” Young murmured.

“What’s the matter with Comerford?” Kalila burst out.

“He’s stubborn,” was Dunn’s hesitant reply. “And—look, in all honesty, it’s best not to argue with him too much if you want to stay in his good graces.”

“I don’t,” Kalila snapped.

Oliver contributed next, his words tinged with an uncharacteristic meekness. “His good opinion means quite a lot to people.”

Kalila frowned. Did Comerford’s opinion of Oliver truly mean so much? Then, with crystal clarity, she remembered. Remembered how when she’d asked Oliver why he hadn’t chosen not to leave comments on her work, he’d told her that if he hadn’t, if he’d admitted to his confusion, Comerford would have thought him a brainless fool.

He did care about Comerford’s opinion. And she could hazard a guess as to why.

“We might as well tidy up,” Dunn said. “Help me with these microscopes, Young.”

As the men began to mill about, Kalila lowered her voice at Oliver. “Let’s go into the hallway.”

He nodded and followed her outside.