Page 88 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“Yes,” Kalila murmured, her piercing hazel eyes never leaving Oliver’s face.

Dameer disappeared down the staircase, leaving Oliver and Kalila alone.

“I’m here because you were right,” Oliver said abruptly. “And I need you to know that I never want us to be at odds with one another. I would much rather stand with you against the Society than the other way around.”

Kalila blinked, seemingly surprised by his words, before reaching out to take one of his hands in hers. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “I need to apologize for bringing your father up. It was not my place.”

Oliver smiled at her, his adoration for her so overwhelming that it was almost painful. “I needed to hear it,” he admitted. “And,” he continued, clearing his throat uncomfortably, “I’ve written to my mother.”

Kalila gasped and, much to his dismay, dropped his hand. “You did?”

“I did,” he affirmed. “I-I was using the Society and social engagements to avoid it, I know. It didn’t matter until it got between us.”

Kalila’s soft mouth turned downward. Grabbing him by the cuff of his sleeve, she led him into her room. “Nothing could get between us, Oliver. I can promise you that much.”

Oliver glanced over his shoulder at the empty landing. He sensed they were alone but kicked the door shut with his boot all the same. “Kalila,” he rasped, turning toward her, “I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Would you consider staying in London?”

She laughed, the sound short and hollow. “What a silly thing to ask.”

Except it wasn’t, and what he really wanted to ask was if she would stay in London with him.

“Humor me,” he said.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was small and unsure. “I’ve made a mess that neither of us can even begin to tidy up.”

“I think we can.”

She frowned. “We can?”

“I could talk to Comerford,” he offered.

Kalila shook her head, her curls jostling about her ears. “No. I should never have asked you to do that in the first place. It is not your battle.”

“Still,” he pressed, “let me at least fight this one for you.”

I’d fight all your battles for you, if you’d let me.

“Oliver—”

“You can have the next one,” he suggested with a lopsided grin.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to throw this conversation out the window and focus entirely on that delicious mouth of hers.

“You’d be willing to do this?” she asked. “For me?”

“I would,” he said. “On one condition.”

Kalila straightened to attention. “What is it?”

“You and I both know that Comerford will bring science into this conversation,” he said, “even as we both know it is a question of ethics. You and I also know that I am completely clueless about your research.”

“I told you I’d explain it to you,” she reminded him.

“So you did,” he said. “And so I have come to ask you one thing, Kalila Darwish.”