Page 84 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “This has nothing to do with my father and everything to do with my knowing Comerford better than you do. Nothing I say will convince him he’s wrong.”

When Kalila took a surprised step back, he was instantly flooded with regret.

“I suppose when you asked for time, you only needed it to think of a way to convince me to let this go,” she murmured.

“Kal—”

“I sincerely hope you are never in my position,” she said, voice wavering. “Because not a single person in that room will do a dratted thing about it.”

“I’d do anyth—”

She shook her head, speaking over him once more. “Don’t say such things.”

“But it’s true,” he insisted.

“I shouldn’t have asked this of you,” she said, more to herself than to him. “It isn’t fair. You shouldn’t have to choose.”

“Choose?”

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I understand.”

You shouldn’t. I’m being a coward.

“I know him, Kalila,” Oliver said. “That’s all.”

“Yes. And I know you, which is why I shouldn’t have asked.”

He folded his arms against his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said. “We should go help the others tidy up.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she reentered 107. Oliver remained in the hallway, arms still held protectively against himself. He’d always skirted around true confrontation with his mentor, that much was true. The day he’d been called to Comerford’s office to be scolded for inviting Mr. D.R. to the lecture series was as serious as it ever got between them—which was to say, not serious at all. Their bickering was part of the game. Oliver had never truly defied him, not even then. He’d known where the boundary was and had made sure not to cross it.

You shouldn’t have to choose.

God above, why had she said that? Had his cowardice really made her believe that he’d choose Comerford over her, the woman he was madly in love with?

You did choose him over her.

It wasn’t a choice, it was—

He didn’t know what it was. But even in the midst of his confusion, one thing was clear—it was time to tidy things up.

He’d start with 107, of course.

But he’d have to end with Rosewood, if only to prove himself that the web he was trapped in wasn’t nearly as tangled as Kalila said it was.

Chapter Twenty

Kalila was tired.

She was tired of pretending to be Dameer Rafiq. She was tired of the Society of Microscopic Biology. And, for the first time in her life, she was tired of science.

She’d slipped out of 107 unnoticed, leaving Oliver wrapped up in conversation with Dunn, and was now curled up in her bed listening to the rain beat against the window. She wanted so badly to drift off, wanted so badly to stop being aware of how exhausted she was. But sleep wouldn’t come, and so she remained as she was, wondering once again how she was meant to thrive in a field that seemed to exist only to reject her.

How many scientists were like Comerford and Jennings? Could she expect to run into different iterations of them no matter where she took her research?

It doesn’t matter. You’re better off asking yourself how many scientists are like Dunn or Talbot or Young.