Page 6 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“I’ve decided that a change of scenery will help me with my rewrites,” she lied.

Dameer stared at her for a moment before shrugging. “All right. I’ll go pack then, shall I? Send a letter ahead for my parents?”

“Yes!” Kalila grinned. She was surprised that he’d been so easily convinced. Dameer was not what one might call spontaneous.

“Tell my father I’m off to London? Have him insist I try to sell some jug or another to one of his customers?” Dameer continued in that same chipper tone. “Ruin my entire summer?”

Oh. Sarcasm.

“Fine.” Kalila placed the ewer back on the side table and pushed herself out of the armchair. “I’ll go on my own.”

“On your own!” Dameer sputtered, tripping out of his chair and following her out of the parlor.

Kalila came to a sudden stop in the hallway. Dameer, ever graceful, walked right into her.

“On my own,” she repeated. “It seems to me that you’ll have to suffer your father’s wrath either way.” She raised her voice an octave. “Why yes, Uncle Sami, Dameer did know I was going to London all by myself.”

She didn’t really think Dameer would run into any trouble, of course. Even if he did incur his father’s irritation, his mother would undoubtedly intervene. And there was nothing more predictable than the way her uncle melted in the face of her aunt’s intervention. Dameer would escape without so much as a lecture.

Her cousin let out a sound of frustration. “Fine! Fine. We’ll go to London.” Stalking toward the front door, he said, “Those rewrites of yours had better be spectacular.”

“I’m sure Amelia will be delighted to see you!” Kalila called after him.

Once it became apparent that her cousin had ignored her, Kalila headed to her room to prepare her trunk for travel. On the way, she caught sight of herself in a mirror that hung in the hallway. She rearranged her face into a frown.

Simple, she thought. Straightening her expression into one of neutrality, she examined the angle of her jaw. Maybe she could powder the flush out of her cheeks. She wound her braid on top of her head, trying to imagine what she’d look like without the curls that always floated around her shoulders. If she could fool herself, she could fool anyone. Being adept at microscopy had helped her to develop her already extraordinary eye for detail. She’d noticed the hopeful flicker in Dameer’s eyes at the mention of Amelia’s name a second before the blush had risen to his face just as she’d sensed the air of resignation that had come over him before he’d agreed to follow her to London.

She’d always had a sharp eye and an even sharper mind—a mind that was not easily fooled. She knew she could mimic Dameer’s mannerisms to perfection if she really put her mind to it. If she could convince herself, then she’d have no trouble attending the lecture series at the university.

Not as Kalila Darwish, but as someone else entirely.

“Mr. Dameer Rafiq,” she said, allowing her voice to dip in register. “At your service.”

Chapter Three

“I’ll meet you at the townhouse,” Dameer said, hopping out of the carriage. They had just come to a standstill outside of Willow House in London, where Dameer’s aunt Dalia lived with her husband.

“Tell your aunt I said hello,” Kalila said, heart thumping wildly in her chest. Dameer nodded at her, shutting the carriage door. Kalila felt the vehicle begin to move and allowed herself to relax for the first time in four days.

This was sheer insanity.

But what else could she do? If the walls surrounding the Society were too high for her to climb, she’d have to find another way around them. She’d attend the lectures in disguise, convince Laurence Comerford to allow women into the Society, and ultimately have her work published under her own name. And that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

Simple. The only risk she ran was being completely ruined. Which, granted, was quite a large risk. But Kalila was clever. Whatever she lacked in beauty and charm was more than made up for by her bright mind.

Thirty minutes later, Kalila knocked at the door to a pretty townhouse. The entrance was promptly thrown open, and she was greeted by the sight of Caroline Southcott, her flaxen hair piled high atop her head in an untidy knot.

“Kalila!” she gasped, her face breaking into a wild grin. “Were we expecting you?”

“Not at all,” Kalila said. “I’m here because I intend to take on some rather risky business.”

“Well, you’ve piqued my interest. Come in.” Caroline stuck her head around the door frame. “No Dameer? I thought he’d be attached to your hip as always.”

Kalila giggled as she stepped into the entryway. “He’s at Willow House.”

“I expect we’ll see him soon, then,” Caroline said, moving aside to let the coachman pile Kalila’s luggage by the stairs. “Tell me about this business of yours.”

Kalila opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a delighted squeal. Amelia Southcott came hopping toward her, pulling Kalila into a powdery, perfumed hug.