Page 73 of A Game of Scandal

“It’s important,” Caroline said. “What we do here.” She looked back over towards the gatehouse and something sad came into her eyes. “I was here two years ago when there was a proposal to grant women degrees. It was voted down 1,713 votes to 66. The men rioted in the streets, hung an effigy of a woman and cut it into pieces, pushed it through our gates. There’s so much anger…” She shrugged, shook herself as though to cast off the memory. “The more women pass through the system, the more of them can share what they learn. We can build communities like this. It’s important,” she said again. She must have seen my shock, because she laughed. “I’m scaring you off,” she said. “I don’t mean to.”

“No,” I said firmly. “You’re not scaring me.”

“Good.” She slipped her arm through mine. “Now. Let me give you the proper tour.”

Later, I walked back through the winding streets thinking over Caroline’s words. I’d been so focused on getting Max to agree to me attending university, that I hadn’t given much thought to what hurdles I might face when I finally got there.

I understood better after today that, by becoming a student, I wouldn’t be embarking on a purely intellectual pursuit – I would be part of something much bigger than myself. I would have a responsibility to the women who came before me, to the ones who would come after.

I was so deep in thought that I didn’t notice the man stepping into my path until I crashed into him.

“Oh, goodness,” I said breathlessly. “I do apologize.”

I reached up to straighten my hat and tipped my head back to look at the stranger I had accidentally accosted. It felt as though the ground fell out from beneath my feet.

“Hello, Felicity,” Edward Laing said genially. “Fancy seeing you here.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“What are you doing here?” My heart hammered as he wrapped his fingers around my arm. “How did you find me?”

“As it happens, I was here on some other business when I became aware of your presence,” Laing said. “Quite a serendipitous turn of events, don’t you agree?”

“No, I don’t. Let go of me.” I tried to pull myself out of his hold.

“Now, now,” Laing said through a smile that was more a gritting of teeth than anything else. “It would be unwise to draw attention to either of us. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to your new friend, Laetitia.”

I stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Only that an acquaintance of mine is currently outside Miss Tiffins’ home, and should he not hear from me shortly, then he has certain … instructions.”

“You’re not even going to pretend you’re not a criminal any more, are you?” I demanded, fear leaping like a flame inside me. The man in front of me was a ruthless killer, capable of anything.

Laing made a tsking sound of disapproval. “Criminal is such a common word. There’s really no need at all for any unpleasantness. I’d much rather do this in a civilized manner. Over tea, perhaps?”

He was guiding me down the narrow street towards a tea shop.

“You wish for us to have tea?” I said, dazed.

“I wish for us to have a rational conversation,” he said, nudging me through the door and smiling at the waitress, who hurried over to greet us. “A table for two, please.”

“Certainly, sir.” The waitress beamed, clearly assuming we were a young couple in love, as Laing held me close, his hand clamped round my waist. “Right here in the window, our best table.” She winked.

“Thank you.” Laing smiled warmly back at her. “My fiancée and I would both love the Assam tea, and we’ll try a scone too. I hear they’re very good.”

“Finest in Cambridge,” the waitress agreed brightly, and she bustled off to fill the order while I sat stiffly, watching Laing in silence. If he truly had someone watching Laetitia, I could do nothing that might threaten her safety.

He was utterly relaxed and didn’t try to resume our conversation until our tea and cake had been delivered. Then he leaned forward and poured a cup for me.

“Milk?” he asked. “Sugar?”

I looked at him. His face was a mask of politeness. This felt like a joke – the domestic scene of the tearoom, all frilly tablecloths and carefully pressed napkins, while I sat across from the man who had kidnapped me and tried to blow up my friends.

“Just milk,” I said finally, willing my voice to remain calm and steady. No one was going to be helped by me falling into hysterics.

Laing treated me to a look of approval. “You see,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I knew you were a woman of good sense. Now, I feel certain that we can resolve our differences with some plain speaking.”

“You tried to kidnap me,” I said, lifting my teacup and taking a sip.