Page 10 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

So much for that.

*

After her fitting, Kalila returned to the entryway of the townhouse, intending to carry her microscope up to her room. An abrupt knock came at the front door, and she answered it without hesitation. She had, after all, always been of the mind that if she could do something herself, she would. There was no sense in waiting for a maid or butler to come along when she was right there.

The sight that greeted her left her rooted in place.

Tall, broad shouldered, and dressed in a suit of deep brown, he was the most exquisite specimen she’d ever seen. A flurry of butterflies began to awaken in her stomach as her eyes traveled over him. He was in possession of a jaw so sharp, it looked as if it had been carved from marble. Unkempt, sandy hair offset the harsh planes of his face. His one imperfection was his nose, which looked as if it had mended poorly after a break. Even so, Kalila couldn’t bring herself to call it unattractive.

He didn’t seem particularly perturbed by her careful, silent examination. Indeed, he responded to it by subjecting her to an equally intense inspection of his own.

“I’m looking for a Mr. D.R.,” he said eventually, his voice rich and pleasant.

His words brought her back to reality with a painful thud. This man was looking for Dameer? She thought she knew all of her cousin’s acquaintances.

“May I ask who’s calling?” she questioned, blinking rapidly to clear the fog that had gathered in her head at the mere sight of him.

His sharp, unyielding features melted away as he offered her a boyish, crooked grin. “Oliver Booth. I thought I’d stop by to introduce myself to Mr. D.R. before the lectures start. Might I come in?”

Two things happened in quick succession: Kalila’s heart fell straight into her boots, and she stepped back and slammed the door. She stared at the closed door, blood cold in her veins.

This was decidedly not good. She had planned on exposing the men of the Society only to her version of Dameer so as to avoid any questions or awkward encounters.

It seemed, however, that an awkward encounter had found her anyway. She rushed back into the parlor, feeling sick to her stomach.

“Who was it?” Caroline asked, placing her teacup in its saucer.

“Are you all right, Kal?” Dameer tilted his head at her. “You’re a little pale. Maybe you should sit down.”

“Who was at the door?” Caroline repeated, concern marring her delicate features.

“A Mr. Oliver Booth,” Kalila managed. “At your service, Dameer.”

A tense silence fell before Dameer gave her an uncertain smile. “You’re teasing.”

“Do I look like I’m teasing?” Kalila demanded.

The smile vanished from his face.

Caroline straightened in her chair. “Can someone enlighten the rest of us as to who this Mr. Booth is?”

“He’s a member of the Society,” Kalila explained, still frozen in place as her heart continued to jump in a staccato beat. “He leaves ridiculous comments on my pap—oh, God, I slammed the door in his face.”

“What else were you to do?” Dameer asked, panic evident in his voice. “Introduce him to the whole lot of us?”

“We need to let him in,” Kalila said, strength coming back to her. “Dameer. You have to let him in. We’re to work together, and I have to have all of them on my side when I make my case to Comerford. There will be strength in numbers.”

Dameer stood. “What case?”

“That’s it.” Caroline grabbed Amelia by the sleeve and gestured at Kalila to follow. “Let the man back in, Dameer.”

Dameer made to leave the room. “And then what?”

“Get rid of him,” Caroline instructed, ushering Kalila and Amelia into the hallway.

“An easy task, I’m sure,” he grumbled.

“Oh, you can do it, Dameer,” Amelia cooed. “I believe in you.”