Page 46 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“Enter!” he barked.

Kalila slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Trying not to focus on how much pointless time she’d wasted, she met Comerford’s icy-blue gaze.

He acknowledged her presence with a simple, “Rafiq.”

“Sir,” she said. “I wanted to talk about the—the structure of the Society.”

No stammering.

Comerford leaned forward, folding his hands together. “Go on, lad. We haven’t much time before class begins.”

Kalila took a deep breath, so deep that her lungs felt fit to burst. It wouldn’t do to dillydally. “Women,” she blurted out.

Oh, well done.

Comerford tipped back in his chair, an amused look in his eye. “Women? Have you come here for romantic advice, Rafiq?”

“No!” She gripped the back of the chair that sat before Comerford’s desk. “No. I think we should allow women into the Society.”

He examined her for a long, tense moment, his expression contemplative. For a moment, Kalila thought he might be considering it.

“No,” he said finally, “I don’t think we should.”

Good God, was every man gearing up to disappoint her today?

“Why not?”

His response was calm. “What good would it do?”

“Good?” Kalila repeated. “You’d be engaging the half of the population nobody even considers.”

“What is it, Rafiq?” he questioned in that same irritating, serene manner. “Sister? Cousin?”

“Excuse me?”

“Which one of them fancies herself a scientist?”

Kalila blinked. “I—”

“Well,” he interrupted, clearly uninterested in the answer, “you can tell whoever put you up to this that you did your best, if that helps.”

Whoever had put her up to this? Was it impossible that a person should try to speak up for others without there being some ulterior motive?

“This is no place for women,” Comerford continued, beginning to tidy the piles of paper that littered his desk. “Now, off with you. I’ll be in 107 in ten minutes.”

Kalila considered bringing up asking the opinion of the other men, but something about Comerford sucked the fight out of her. His words were resolute, as if he’d brook no further argument. As if there was no conversation to be had.

Noticing she had yet to leave, he asked, “Is there something else you wish to discuss?”

“No,” she said, “there is not.”

She crept out of the room, shutting the door behind her. In what universe would that have worked? Her original plan had been fine. It had been logical, sensible. It might have worked if she’d had the whole lot of them in the study with her, it might have worked if—

She felt herself droop. Perhaps there was no avenue for it to have worked. Perhaps she’d been overconfident in her abilities.

What would she have done if he’d said yes? Revealed herself? No. She would have had to submit her paper under Dameer’s name while hoping the next one would be published under her own.

Perhaps she lacked the logic she so often claimed to possess. That, or her impulsive nature overrode it, forcing her toward her goals whether it made sense to try to reach them or not.