Page 50 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

Oliver’s heart thrummed in pleasure as she defended him in the face of his father. She was so observant, so in tune with everything around her, that she was able to glean what most people would usually ignore. It made her a wonderful scientist, yes, but it also made her an altogether exceptional person.

“Small blessing,” William replied, “considering what a halfwit he is.”

Oliver flinched, and then wished he hadn’t, as it was safe to assume that Kalila had noticed.

“On the contrary,” she said, as composed as anything. “Our contemporaries at the university have a great deal of respect for his intelligence.”

He shouldn’t let her do this. This wasn’t her battle to fight. He didn’t even know why she was fighting it.

“Father—”

“Fat lot of good that’s done us,” William interrupted, directing the statement at Kalila.

“I assure you, Mr. Booth, that it is beneficial to the scientific community.” Kalila took a step sideways, and Oliver could have sworn that she was attempting to insert herself between him and his father. Oliver, meanwhile, found himself as frozen as he’d ever been in William’s presence.

His father swayed slightly before saying, “You might consider using that smart tongue of yours to convince my son to spend less time on all of this.” He punctuated the words by gesturing to the laboratory. “He’s got an entire violin empire at his feet, but I’m sure he hasn’t mentioned that to you.”

“It has not come up, no,” Kalila said.

The words that came from William’s mouth next were for Oliver. “Speaking of violins, boy, you ought to look in that cabinet of yours. I did you something of a favor. Go on.”

Oliver didn’t move, even as his father stared him down. A week of friendship with Kalila suddenly felt horribly fragile, because there was no reason for her to ever want to return to Rosewood.

No reason for her to want to be associated with the likes of William Booth, no matter how many degrees separated her from him.

“Sir?”

Oliver, Kalila, and William all turned to the door where Hughes, blessed Hughes, stood.

“Your bath has been drawn,” he said. “May I escort you to your room?”

Oliver’s shoulders relaxed as his father considered this.

“Fine by me,” William said eventually. Hughes led him out into the hallway, promising that the water would indeed be hot.

Once they had disappeared, Oliver made his way to the large cabinet that sat at the back of the room. Kalila trailed him, watching as he opened the door. A box of slides fell to the floor. It remained latched shut, the damage betrayed by the sickening, muffled sound of breaking glass emanating from the inside.

Kalila winced, hard. Oliver felt nothing. Just the same emptiness he always felt when his father wreaked havoc. His attention moved to the shelf, where a violin had been haphazardly shoved in place of a microscope.

“Is that meant to be there?” Kalila asked.

“No.”

“A microscope, then?”

“Just an old brass thing. It’s fine.”

It had been his first microscope. He’d loved it, despite having replaced it long ago. It was likely sitting in a shop with other trinkets and oddities now, never to be found again.

“Oliver—”

“It’s fine,” he cut her off, kneeling to pick up the box of slides.

She dropped to her knees before him. “It isn’t fine,” she said. “That was your microscope. And all your hard work is in that box.”

“The box was an accident,” he said. “He probably didn’t put it back properly.” Oliver unlatched the case to see far more shards of glass than he’d have liked. He sighed, slamming the lid shut. “I’ll make more.”

“Is he always like this?”