Page 21 of Betrothal Between Enemies

‘It would bore you,’ she demurred, and Alistair decided not to press the issue. Another time, perhaps. Ismay was at her most stubborn when she was upset. This explained the edge he’d sensed in her. How galling it must be to sit through presentations when you deserved to be up there, too. Yet, this was where her friends and colleagues were. She couldn’t stay home and deprive herself of such mental oxygen, as it were. She thrived here.

Professor Loughty introduced the speakers and their topics. Unfortunately, the first speaker, a tall gangly fellow from Germany, was not a talented orator, and Alistair found his thoughts wandering almost instantly. Or maybe because the subject sitting beside him was so much more interesting to contemplate. Alistair slid a quiet look at Ismay, her expression rapt, intent enough for the both of them, as the fellow from Germany plodded on. She was subtly stunning today in an afternoon gown of Clarence blue, a delicate lace fichu tucked into the round neckline of her dress, her hair in a chignon at her neck, tiny gold ear-bobs at her ears.

Such looks were not her best feature. Those was her mind, her wit, her sharpness, although not every man would appreciate such things. They ought to. He was beginning to see that men had failed her not only in love but in life. Something stirred in him, wanting to compel everyone to see her as he was coming to see her, and to value those qualities instead of denigrating them. He worried that their ruse would only serve to reinforce the latter. The second and third speakers were not much better in terms of skill, and Alistair’s thoughts continued to drift. How had he arrived in this place of wanting to help Ismay instead of fighting her?

* * *

The fourth speaker finished, and Ismay nudged Alistair to applaud on cue. Likely he was clapping out of gratitude to be able to stand up. The topics had been interesting, but the speakers had admittedly been lacklustre. It had made for a long sit even for her, who’d found the topics intriguing. She couldn’t imagine how Alistair felt about the afternoon, sitting on a tiny chair made for smaller bodies and listening to monotone men discuss their findings on rocks. Alistair had been a rock himself, putting up for the afternoon with something he no doubt found the height of boredom, meeting her colleagues, smiling, shaking hands, and there’d been that wonderful moment when he’d skillfully called the stuffy Mr Creighley-Smith boring for wanting a submissive wife.

Waiters circulated with another round of the raspberry-infused champagne. Alistair snatched up two glasses from a passing tray and handed her one, but Ismay shook her head. ‘We don’t need to linger any longer.’

‘Don’t you want to stay and talk with everyone?’ Alistair asked. Surely, there was even more to discuss now that the presentations had been given.

She waved off the suggestion. ‘No, I’ve put you through enough. You must be bored beyond reason, all this talk of rocks. Besides, the rain has stopped. It’s a good time for us to leave if we want to stay dry on the walk home.’

‘Hold my glass, then. There’s something I want to do before we go.’ He scanned the room, looking for someone.

A spear of warning lanced through her. The day had been going well. Until now. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Only what any good fiancé would do.’

She followed Alistair’s gaze to where Professor Loughty stood beside the window, talking with other members of the editorial board.

‘But you’re not a good fiancé,’ Ismay countered.

‘I’ll just overlook that comment for the moment and be right back.’ He left her then, crossing the floor to join Loughty. It took enormous willpower to watch him shake hands and introduce himself. She wanted to run across the room and drag him away. She could guess what he meant to do. He would think he was helping, but she didn’t need a knight in shining armour to fight her battles for her. Maybe she did need that drink after all. Or two.

Chapter Twelve

Alistair shook Professor Loughty’s hand—what there was of it. The man’s skin felt like the rest of him looked: paper-thin, his grip the lightest of presses. The faintest of breezes would indeed knock him over, although Alistair wouldn’t mind doing the honours himself.

‘Did you enjoy our presentations today, Mr Burke-Price?’ Professor Loughty inquired in a reedy voice that matched the rest of him.

Alistair smiled, deliberately letting his expression convey the opposite of his words. It would entirely catch Loughty the Ferret-faced off guard. ‘Not particularly, no.’ As planned, Loughty was reduced to confusion. The man had been expecting praise, primed for it with a smile that didn’t receive the expected message.

‘Why is that, sir?’ Loughty tugged at his lapels, trying to regain his conversational footing. ‘We have some of the best minds in Europe here.’

‘You do.’ Alistair nodded his agreement. ‘However, I can’t help but feel they were sitting in the audience. The men who spoke today could hardly be the best and brightest. They could barely string a sentence together, let alone keep an audience engaged in their content. And let’s be frank,’ Alistair leaned close as if to impart a confidence, ‘my primary takeaway was that the gentleman seated behind me today snores.’ The presentations had put that audience member straight to sleep within the first ten minutes.

‘Well, science isn’t for everyone,’ Professor Loughty sputtered at the insult.

‘But science is for a room full of scientists,’ Alistair countered. He was fully engaged now. ‘Today’s speakers had an easy audience to please. This audience wanted to be here and already possessed some expertise of their own through which to decipher the speakers’ information, and some of them were still put to sleep. It’s hard to perceive someone as an expert in the field when they cannot put a coherent string of sentences together without erms and uhs.’

Loughty cleared his throat. ‘I am sorry you were disappointed today in our speakers.’

Alistair fixed the man with a hard stare. ‘I am not disappointed in them. I am disappointed in you. You are the editorial chair for the publication, are you not? You chose these men, you put them in this position, while other more engaging speakers like Miss Rose went overlooked. Her work is timely given the situation with the mountain and original in its proposal. She is a competent speaker, yet her work remains unpublished.’ He’d never heard Ismay give a presentation, but it seemed highly probable she’d be more engaging than the men today. It would be hard not to be.

‘She is a woman, sir,’ Loughty explained as if Alistair hadn’t noticed that.

‘Is her gender a problem, sir?’ Alistair retorted. ‘One would think scientists of all people would be more liberal-minded than their aristocratic counterparts, who insist on living in the past and promulgating systems of government and patriarchy that have outlived their usefulness, if ever they had any.’ He had Loughty on the ropes now, and he was quite enjoying himself.

‘She is a woman,’ Loughty repeated as if by saying it twice Alistair would suddenly understand his point and capitulate. They were starting to draw an audience, people discreetly leaning towards them. Good. Alistair wanted to make his point to as many as possible.

‘She is a mind, just like you. Or are you defined only by your sex? A designation, I should remind you, that is determined randomly in a moment at conception, something neither you nor your parents had any control over. Tell me this, Professor. If you woke up tomorrow and the world was run by women who decided you could not present your findings simply on the grounds of being male, would you not still possess your mental faculties to the same degree you possess them now? You would not be less intelligent, merely censored. What do you say to that?’ Loughty was fully cornered now.

‘Are you accusing me of deliberately silencing someone’s ideas?’ Loughty stammered, no doubt hoping if he cast the argument in extremes and made it appear ridiculous, Alistair would back down.

Alistair nodded. ‘I am indeed. Perhaps Miss Rose should start her own journal. Science for the censored voice. It would certainly be more interesting than anything I heard today.’ He moved off then, leaving Professor Loughty gaping, a trail of stares behind him and murmurs in his wake.