She sighed and left the pungent hall for the Quad. Students cluttered the pavement and grass. She imagined Savita Datta joining their ranks in a few weeks as a student. She’d been so bright-eyed, it reminded Saffron so much of herself as she anticipated life at university.
Unfortunately, Saffron could see into Savita’s future. Despite the prominence of women like Martha Annie Whiteley and Marie Curie,a fellow woman in the sciences would experience the same arbitrary, misogynistic opinions of others that had made Saffron’s own academic life so unpleasant. It could only be made more difficult by Miss Datta’s race.
That frustrating thought was eased as Saffron passed by a cluster of students who were speaking a language she thought was Arabic. Savita might be a woman, but perhaps at an institution like the University College London, her ancestry would matter less. People from all over the world came to the U to study, something Saffron had always enjoyed. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon to overhear conversations in half a dozen languages over the course of the day, and—
Saffron froze, a puzzle piece clicking into place in her mind. The peculiar thing she’d struggled to identify about Adrian Ashton was suddenly crystal clear.
“How absolutelyridiculous,” she breathed.
The light glowing under Alexander’s office door and the slow tap-tap on a typewriter within assured her that she would get to confront Alexander the moment she’d climbed to the second floor of the North Wing.
She did not bother to knock.
Alexander sat at his desk, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows as he pecked away at the Noiseless sitting on his desk. He looked up from the typewriter, somewhat startled, but then broke into a smile that soon faded when he took in her angry expression. “What is it?”
“You,” she said with a huff, tossing her handbag onto the chair before his desk, “are the most obnoxious man I’ve ever met.”
He blinked. “Why is that?”
“What is the real reason you kept me from your brother last night?”
“Because he was drunk and I didn’t wish you to believe anything he said or did while in that condition was a true reflection of his character.”
He said it so readily that she was taken aback. Still, she felt it was important to confront the issue. “Adrian speaks with an accent.” Alexander’s nostrils flared. That was evidence of … something. “Why?”
“Because he spent a good deal of his childhood with our mother’s side of the family.”
“And they are?”
“Greek.”
“And so you are Greek.”
He nodded.
When confronted with a mystery, Saffron generally felt some sort of satisfaction when it was solved, especially if she’d been the one to do it. It was part of the reason science so appealed to her; it was all about finding answers to questions. But now, having pulled apart this minor mystery, she felt not victorious but hurt. She and Alexander had grown rather close before he’d left. They’d spent hours in this very room, talking about their work and their ideas and a dozen other things that were quite personal. She’d told him a good many things about herself and her family. She could count on the fingers of one hand the things she knew about Alexander’s family, including this most recent revelation.
“I do not tell many people,” he said, apparently sensing her disquiet.
She refused to voice the hurt threatening on her lips,why didn’t you tell me?They were merely friends and stilted ones at that. The fun of dancing together the previous evening had made her forget.
She exhaled, feeling the last vestiges of burning curiosity drain out of her. Why did she find it so hard to remember that she was simply helping his brother avoid an accusation of murder? “I will need to speak to Adrian about the case—regardless of what secrets you fear he might reveal to me—if you want me to help him.”
When he merely looked at her with that shuttered expression, she retreated from the room.
Saffron sought the sanctuary of her office but stopped short when she saw a familiar tall figure pacing before it.
“Hullo, Nick,” she said, forcing a pleasant tone.
“Saffron,” he said jovially. “I was worried I’d missed you. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and see your digs.” Hetapped a finger on the plaque on her door stating her name. “Impressive. Show me around, won’t you?”
Saffron opened her mouth to beg off as politely as possible but realized she didn’t have her handbag, which contained the keys to her office. She’d left it on Alexander’s chair, and she didn’t care to see him until she’d stopped steaming. “How thoughtful. Allow me to show you our greenhouses. They’d probably appeal to an agent of the Agricultural Ministry.”
Nick was pleasant company as they exited the North Wing and joined the flow of students from the Quad and onto the street. Saffron took them on the long way ’round, despite the fact she didn’t have her jacket and the sun had long since fallen behind the tall buildings, leaving the streets in cold shadows. The Church of Christ the King, a grand building with buttresses and parapets and a lovely rose window, was tucked up next to the university buildings on Gordon Street. Through the opened doors hummed the varied sounds of the choir warming up their voices.
The greenhouses, across the street in a square fringed with young trees, were still illuminated by fading afternoon light.
“Have you visited any of the botanical research stations?” Saffron asked at the conclusion of yet another of Nick’s diverting tales. Sometimes it felt as if he had a catalogue of them, ready to pull out to amuse at a moment’s notice. “Have you seen any of their greenhouses?”
