Page 24 of The Oxford Guide to Scandal and Lies

He leaned back, dusting a trouser leg, but his watery eyes narrowed at Sidney with a glower.

“Thank you,” Dr. Watkins said, “That was most invigorating, gentlemen. Hitler is a fascinating juxtaposition to Caesar, Mr. Braithwaite, and an excellent reminder of how easy it is to romanticize men of the past through the lens of centuries—yes, Mr. Hughes?”

The American gestured between Sidney and Craddock. “Mr. Craddock and Mr. Braithwaite raise interesting points, but we’ve all assumed an implicit moral aspect to the two titles. Couldn’t you also have a saintly madman or an evil genius?”

Craddock rolled his eyes, sinking back in his chair with a soft, derisive snort. But Watkins made a thoughtful hum.

“That’s very true, Mr. Hughes. In fact, I would wager there are more of the latter roaming the earth than we might realize, only most have too modest of ambitions to make their threat known.”

This unifying sentiment drew a round of sage nodding from the circle, and Dr. Watkins continued the discussion of Caesar’s demise without interruption. Sidney retreated into himself and only half listened, sinking lower in his chair as the exchange skipped and spiraled through his mind like a scratched record. He wanted to duck out and run alongside the Cherwell until he was exhausted, till his blunder didn’t burn in his memory.

But Sidney couldn’t afford to soothe his embarrassment; he had to regain his footing in the group and hope Dr. Watkins would forget the matter. Craddock was the sort of Oxford man with whom Sidney had never been friends, and he would have to suffer his presence through future visits to the group. To succeed on this part of their assignment, he damn sure needed to reinforce the cracks in his armor before meeting Craddock again.

When he dared look around the circle, Hughes was the only one who met his eye, and Sidney chalked up his friendly amusement as a minute victory. He focused on keeping his pulse even and ignoring Donald Craddock, and the minutes ticked by with agonizing lethargy. One thing was certain: Ginevra Bishop needn’t know how badly he’d ignored his own advice about discretion.

“We’ll end there for today.” Dr. Watkins closed the book on her lap and smoothed the red binding. “For those who wish to return, we’ll discuss the following chapter next week.” She nodded at Sidney affably and then at Craddock, but the other man was already striding toward the door.

The other students filed out with merry chatter, but Sidney lingered behind. He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me join.”

“Of course. I appreciate a lively discussion.” Dr. Watkins cleared her throat, fiddling with the fob watch on her jacket lapel. “I’ve taught Lord Donald for years, and I know he can be tenacious when an idea grabs him. I would prefer, however, if private matters did not intrude into discussions. If you two have a quarrel—”

“There’s no quarrel,” Sidney said.

Watkins raised an eyebrow as though dubious. “Then I look forward to more lively discussions in the future. Good day, Mr. Braithwaite.”

Sidney flew down the stairs to the ground floor as though he’d gotten a reprieve from that firing squad. After being such an idiot, he didn’t deserve to feel as though he’d made a little progress. But Dr. Watkins had accepted him, Lewis Hughes was friendly enough, and he’d gotten the upper hand on Craddock, which brought him faint pleasure despite knowing it was foolhardy. As he exited the building, Sidney was further pleased to catch sight of Hughes strolling down the path ahead of him. He quickened his steps, ready to tail the American and observe his usual routine. Lagging twenty paces behind, Sidney followed Hughes around a wall of privet hedge onto a perpendicular path.

And walked straight into Donald bloody Craddock.

“Excuse me,” Sidney muttered. He prepared to dodge and continue his tail, but the tall man shifted, blocking his way.

Craddock glared down at him. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you need to leave Ginevra alone. She doesn’t need the likes of you dogging her heels. The viscount wouldn’t approve.”

“The likes of me,” Sidney echoed blankly. Hughes was receding down the path at an alarming rate, but there was still time to catch him. He squinted up at Craddock. “I don’t know what you’re going on about—”

“You were at the gardens with her last week, weren’t you? Don’t deny it,” Craddock snapped. “You were spotted. Why the devil were you there?”

Sidney hadn’t considered a cover story, but lying under pressure had always been one of his strengths. “Professor Leland had recommended her assistance with a translation project, and we were there to discuss a meeting schedule. I don’t see why it matters to you, though.”

“Because we’re engaged.”

An unpleasant chill flooded through Sidney. “Then I offer my congratulations. But she didn’t mention it to me, and I don’t appreciate being told off. Does she know your feelings on the subject?”

“Gin’s the sort of girl who will help any stray in her path. You’ll have to break things off, I’m afraid, or she’ll only fuss at me for meddling.” Craddock tugged down his jacket, glowering. “But she must start thinking about how things reflect upon us both, and strolling the gardens with you isn’t seemly.”

“Then perhaps Miss Bishop is the one you ought to be chiding seeing as she invited me.” Sidney jerked his head in a tight nod. “Good day, Lord Donald.”

Craddock wasn’t agile enough to stop him a second time, and Sidney quickly strode down the path. Hughes, however, had disappeared. The privet hedge continued down one side of the pavement, and the other side opened upon a lawn where students lounged in the sunshine. Sidney searched the groups for any sign of the American and finally caught sight of him at the path’s end speeding away on a bicycle.

Sidney slunk back toward Swithun, cursing Donald Craddock yet again. Though relieved he’d kept his cool for the second confrontation, his pulse still hummed with heightened annoyance. Why did the bloody man get under his skin so, even more than the other rich fools Harold tried to befriend? Sidney sometimes envied those with privileges bestowed by birth, but mostly he was glad he didn’t have to play their social games. He didn’t want to fawn over richer men or bestow favors on those beneath him with the condescension of kings. Mostly, Sidney was content to be ignored.

At least, he was until Ginevra Bishop had made ignoring him in the library all year feel like her highest insult.

With an annoyed yank, Sidney loosened his tie. Truly, he had not anticipated Bishop’s presence to overshadow his life so much, but his days were now ordered around passing by St. Mildred’s to check for her notes, and she was nothing if not dutiful. In a week, she had already formulated Kirk and Neville’s general schedules, which was impressive but made his slow start feel even slower.

Only nothing had felt stable since she’d nearly clobbered him with that stack of books, and he could blame this bad beginning on her too. If she had mentioned she was engaged, he would have trodden more lightly around Craddock and spared them both some awkwardness. It did make him question her as a judge of character, but Bishop could marry whom she liked—even an ass like Donald Craddock.

Sidney jogged up the stairs to his room, forcing all thoughts of Bishop and Craddock and their impending nuptials from his mind. He needed to prepare for a tutorial with Mr. Graham the next day, and he took extra care arranging his notebook and pencils and every possible book he could consult until he’d constructed a tidy fortress on his desk. This was why he was at Oxford, and life would return to its normal rhythms once they’d found their man.