Chapter Fifteen
Kalila blinked as hard as she could in an attempt to fight off the sleep that threatened to take her. Oliver sat across from her, seemingly unperturbed by the early hour. As promised, he’d brought a carriage around to the townhouse at five o’clock sharp the following day.
“Where are we going?” she demanded for the thousandth time, suppressing a yawn.
“I told you,” he said. “We’re going to a lake.”
“It’s going to rain,” she observed. The sky was decorated with large swaths of gray cloud, which told her that they had picked the worst possible day to fish.
“It’ll clear.”
“No, it won’t,” Kalila said, making it very obvious that she was not a morning person. “We might have gone to the market instead.”
“Far less fun.” Oliver leaned back in his seat. “I thought you wanted to impress Comerford.”
She did. She shouldn’t want to, but she did.
“He doesn’t deserve the effort,” she muttered.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “That said, I very much doubt it has anything to do with him. It’s about you.”
That woke her up a little bit. “How do you mean?”
“You’ll always be like this, Rafiq. Hardworking, determined. Both marks of a good scientist. The amount of effort you put in has nothing to do with Comerford.”
Kalila felt a tiny spark in her chest at the compliment. “I suppose.”
Oliver offered her a pleasant smile, and a twinge of sadness descended upon her, the spark snuffed out. This would all end soon, and she’d never see Oliver Booth again. Even if she wanted to—and she did want to—how was she to dig herself out of the hole she’d landed herself in?
“Here we are!” Oliver crowed as the carriage pulled to a stop. Throwing the door open, he hopped out and took a big breath. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
Kalila emerged from the carriage, a gasp falling from her lips.
A large, rolling meadow lay before them, overgrown and wild.
An enormous lake sat in the middle of it all, framed by weeping willows.
A shed was nestled by the water, appearing as rundown and abandoned as the rest of it.
Before she could speak, Kalila caught sight of Oliver, who was absorbing the view with a fond, wistful expression on his face.
A thick layer of mist hung in the air, and Kalila was almost tempted to think the whole landscape romantic.
A shame she was pretending to be her cousin.
“A good four hours should do it,” Oliver said to the coachman, who quickly rolled off.
Kalila raised her eyebrows. “Four hours!”
“We’re on the hunt for the perfect specimen, Rafiq,” he said, picking his way through the overgrown grass. “This way, you have enough time to be as judgmental of the fish as you like.”
“I’m not going to be judgmental of the fish,” she argued, following him to the edge of the lake.
Especially not when this is all that stands between me and Painswick, she thought bitterly. Winning the competition would be nice—lovely, even—but it wouldn’t change the fact that she’d made a complete fool of herself. It wouldn’t give her back the time she’d wasted.
“Either way,” he said, handing her a fishing pole, “it may take us time to get a bite.”
“What are we fishing for?” she asked, watching him closely as he cast his line into the water. She soon followed suit, mirroring his motions with perfect precision.
“Very good,” he said, nodding at her. “We’re fishing for carp.”
They stood in silence for a moment as Kalila let her eyes wander over the chaotic terrain. “How did you find this place?”
Oliver’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. “My mother used to bring me here. She’d read under the trees while I roamed about.”
Another hush settled before Kalila’s curiosity got the better of her. “Have you spoken to her lately?”
“Not since she left for Kent,” Oliver said. “Twenty-three years ago.”
“Why?” The question was soft, and whispered more to herself than to him.
He shrugged. “She left me. What is there for me to say to her?”
“I don’t know,” Kalila murmured. “Would you say you’ve changed much since then?”
He laughed. “Since I was ten? I would say so, yes.”
“Then perhaps she has, as well.”
The smile that had lingered on his lips fell. “Perhaps.”
“There is a way for you to find out,” Kalila said, not wanting to overstep more than she already had. “If you want to, of course.”
Oliver hummed, but didn’t push back. “This is the first time I’ve returned since—since she last brought me.”
Something fluttered in Kalila’s chest at his words, at the sheer idea that he’d chosen her to bring to this sacred place. “It reminds me of home.”
Oliver brightened. “Oh?”
“Yes,” she said. “Overgrown. Wild. You know how the countryside is.”
“Be careful,” he teased. “I’ll soon be inviting myself for a visit.”
Kalila snorted. “You don’t need an invitation to visit Painswick.”
“I do if I want to see you.”
Kalila’s heart almost stopped. He couldn’t have meant for it to come out with such—such—
Such longing.
“Yes, whatever shall you do when you no longer have the opportunity to see me every day?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and this time, her heart did stop.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she admonished. “You’ll return to whatever it was you did before I came here.”
“I suppose I will. But only after I mourn the loss of a good friend.”
“I’m not dying,” Kalila said, even if a part of her did feel as though it might expire at any moment.
It’s time to face the facts, a voice in her head said. You very clearly have feelings for—
Her thoughts, blessedly, were interrupted by a sharp tug at her line.
“A fish!” she gasped. The line was tugged again, harder this time, and Kalila stumbled.
“Careful,” Oliver said, making to place his fishing pole on the ground. “Let me help you.”
“I’ve got it,” Kalila bit out, a puff of air escaping her as the fish pulled viciously at the line.
She was right at the edge of the lake, so she gave a hefty tug and was rewarded with a glimpse of the offending fish.
As if in response, the fish gave one final, powerful yank.
Kalila returned the gesture, pulling so hard that the fish flew out of the lake as she lost her balance and fell into it.
Adrenaline coursed through her as she sputtered and righted herself.
She glanced up, expecting to see Oliver in a fit of laughter.
Instead, he was giving her an odd sort of look, his eyes breaking from hers to shift to the right.
“What?” she demanded, following his gaze.
It was her wig.
It floated on the lake’s surface, sad and drenched.
In a panic, Kalila reached up to touch the crown of her head, only to find that her own hair was equally drenched and very much visible to Oliver.
The linen of her shirt was plastered to her slender body, revealing so much that there was no point in trying to come up with a creative excuse for the wig.
She’d been revealed.
By a fish.
Which was ironic, considering the idea for her disguise had come from a mythical terror of the marshlands.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
Oliver, who did not seem at all surprised, bent down with a wicked grin on his face. “Oh, yes.”
Kalila splashed helplessly for a moment before pulling herself into a standing position. She tugged at the translucent fabric that had pasted itself to her in an attempt to tidy herself up.
Wait.
“What do you mean by that?” she snapped, boots slipping on the muddy bank as she tried to return to dry land.
She didn’t know how to react to her current situation.
So much so, that anger was the only emotion rising to the surface.
Reluctantly, she took the hand Oliver held out to her.
He hauled her out of the water in one strong motion, keeping a firm grip on her even as she found her footing again.
“It means,” he said, sounding entirely too delighted for her liking, “that I’ve known about your disguise all along, Miss Kalila Darwish.”
Kalila’s mouth fell open as she pulled her hand away from his. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no way you could have known.”
“You thought I wouldn’t notice the differences between yourself and Dameer,” he said. “Didn’t you?”
“How could you? You met him for all of five minutes. Nobody—”
“You’re not the only talented microscopist in England.”
Kalila fought the overwhelming urge to strangle him. “But—you didn’t do anything about it! You can’t have known.”
“I think I’ve done quite a lot,” he said, quirking an eyebrow in her direction. “No?”
Kalila blinked in bewilderment. That meant—the mouse, the pub, the encounter at the university, the party at Willow House, the butterfly, the carriage ride they had just shared, the way he treated her—
Letting out a growl of pure frustration, Kalila began to march away. She’d been so careful. She’d paid attention to every last detail.
“Where are you going?” he called, following after her.
A thought occurred to her, and she whirled around. “Who else knows?”
Oliver put his hands up in surrender. “Nobody!” he said. “Well, Hughes. But nobody else.”
Kalila resumed her marching. She’d failed from the very start. And to think she’d been proud of her little charade, to think—
“If you knew,” she said, turning around once more, “then why were you so taken aback when I suggested allowing women into the Society?”
He hesitated at that. “I-I didn’t think you’d come with some grand plan beyond having your work published.”
“I see,” she ground out, stomping away again.
For the second time, he asked, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know!” she burst out. “I have no idea where I’m going, Oliver. What I want to do is go home and never show my face in London again.”
“Come now, Kalila, you can’t—”
“Kalila!” she repeated. Her own name seemed to mock her.
“That is your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said, all the fight in her disappearing in a sudden puff of smoke. “Kalila Darwish.”
He smiled. “A pleasure to meet you again.”
She continued to walk, going nowhere in particular. “Must you follow me? I need to—”
Before she could finish her sentence, the heavens burst open. Rain began to fall in freezing sheets, leaving Oliver almost as drenched as she was.