Page 54 of Under Arthur’s Protection

Actually, it had changed a lot.

And I couldn’t go another day with Arthur thinking it was true. I took a deep breath for courage, and whispered, “Arthur?”

“Yeah?” His response came so quickly, it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping.

I pressed my palms against the mattress. “His name was Dr. Lionel Davenport. He was my post-doc mentor.”

Silence from the lower bunk.

“He was brilliant. He’s one of the top people in my field, and when he picked me for the post-doc, I thought it was because my work was good.” I swallowed. “It was good. I was good.”

My hands curled into fists, balling up the sheets.

“Bridget was kind of right. We did have an affair.” Affair? That sounded almost as scandalous as Bridget had made it sound. “Relationship, I guess. He wasn’t married or anything.”

Relationship didn’t sound right, either. Late nights in his office had turned into dinners in his flat. He’d always acted so pleased when I presented new findings, but had it been about the research or about me? I’d wanted it to be both. At the time, I’d thought it was.

“He published a paper I’d written. It was entirely my research, and he added a few footnotes, but he put his name on it. Only his.”

My throat tightened, and tears pricked at my eyes.

“When I confronted him, he claimed it was a misunderstanding with the publisher and promised to fix it.” I waved a hand in the dark, trying to shoo the memory away. “He kept repeating that lie for months. When I pushed for a retraction, he threatened to go public about us.”

I’d had friends who warned me about Lionel before any of it started. There’d been rumors about women who’d worked with him and left the field afterward. One of my girlfriends, Rachel, had sat me down over coffee and said very bluntly, ‘He’ll fuck you and leave you.’

God, if that was all he’d done.

Why hadn’t I listened to her?

What would Lance say about Arthur? Would he pull me aside and tell me to back off? Or would he warn me Arthur was out of my league? Or maybe ‘He’s a respectable guy, but he’s not the settling-down type.’

Why was I even thinking about what type of guy he was? Because he was out of my league.

“I stopped working with him, which pissed him off, of course, because it was all about him. I don’t know what happened after, if someone started poking around about why I’d left, but he… He told people I’d come on to him because I wanted my name added to the paper, and he’d canceled my research grant because of it.”

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

“I was such a…” Cliche? A silly little girl who didn’t have experience with men who took advantage of women? “I convinced myself fighting it would draw more attention, so I let it drop and moved back to the States. I found a job in New York, where the city could swallow me whole. But apparently, the rumors persisted over here.”

God, I was so stupid.

The ship rocked gently beneath us, and the minutes ticked by. Did I make a mistake? Did I say too much? Had it come out all jumbled? Was he down there, wishing he’d never agreed to look after the likes of me?

Or had he drifted off while I was pouring my soul out?

“Gwen,” he said finally, his voice soft in the dark. “What Bridget said to you was wrong. What she implied doesn’t sound at all like your story.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my palms against them.

“Lionel was your mentor.” His voice was full of disdain. “His job was to protect you and help you grow.”

I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket with me. I pictured him on the couch from earlier, with the documentary playing in the corner, telling me about his father.

“That man had your future in his hands, Gwen. He should have been celebrating you. Instead, he stole your work and punished you by twisting what he was half responsible for.”

Are you listening, Gwen? Celebrating you.

No one had ever put it that way. My friends had said ‘It wasn’t your fault’ and ‘He had no right to treat you that way’ and ‘Lionel’s a dickhead.’ All of it was kind, and all of it was true, but they loved me and just wanted me to stop hurting. Arthur didn’t need to say any of those things.