Chapter 90

When Professor Bellamy finally concluded, conversations rose across the tiers, and people began making their way toward the exits.

"We should go," he told her quietly.

She nodded, breathing deeply to ready herself for the next phase of their plan.

He offered his arm, and she took it as they descended the tiers together.

They moved with greater purpose once they reached the lower levels, threading their way through the dispersing crowd while keeping the professor in sight.

Professor Bellamy disappeared through a side passage and they quickened their pace in response.

They reached the corridor just as the professor was turning toward another room.

"Professor Bellamy?" Sebastian called.

His voice was loud enough to halt the older man in his tracks. His brows drew together in confusion as he turned to glance behind him, looking even more perplexed when he failed to recognize any of them.

"Can I help you?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Sebastian released Cassandra’s hand to walk ahead.

"Forgive the interruption, sir. My name is Alexander Reed."

The name had been chosen precisely because it belonged to no one who could connect them to their true purpose. It was sufficiently ordinary to attract no attention and sufficiently detached from their real identities to withstand even casual inquiry.

Sebastian gestured toward Cassandra.

"This is my elder sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Pembroke."

Professor Bellamy’s gaze moved briefly toward Cassandra before returning to Sebastian.

Sebastian continued before the professor could ask why they had sought him out.

"I have long regretted that circumstances prevented me from pursuing medicine myself. I considered the profession seriously when I was younger, but life had other plans. The inclination never quite left me, however, and after hearing your lecture today, I find myself wishing once again that I had pursued it."

Professor Bellamy seemed genuinely pleased by the compliment. Some of the wariness left his face, replaced by a look of satisfaction.

Men like Alistair Bellamy, who measured their lives by their careers and accomplishments, tended to hunger for the same thing above all else: appreciation and recognition.

Praise affirmed their importance, stroked their egos, and made them far more receptive than they might otherwise have been.

"Indeed? Then you still have some interest in medicine?"

"Very much so. Though I confess my knowledge is rather limited. Your lecture was very sound. I have read on the subject before, but I confess I never quite understood how the smaller vessels connected with the larger ones."

Sebastian had many weapons in his arsenal, and flattery was among his most reliable. It had opened doors for him before and endeared him to more than a few people. Professor Bellamy, it seemed, was proving to be a particularly amenable target.

"Ah, that is a common difficulty. Most introductory texts make the matter appear more complicated than it is."

"I suspected as much. I was beginning to think the fault lay with me." He said, feigning self-consciousness. It was all part of the ruse.

Bellamy chuckled, not suspecting a thing. "Not at all. Sometimes a subject requires only a better explanation."

"I shall have to remember that. Had I encountered a lecturer like yourself when I was younger, perhaps I would have persisted with my studies."

The professor preened.

From there, Sebastian allowed the conversation to drift naturally, asking another question about the lecture and giving Bellamy room to elaborate.

He was laying the groundwork, forming a bond with him that would definitely come in handy in the future.

When the conversation had continued long enough, Sebastian stepped aside and gestured to Cassandra.

"My sister wished to speak with you as well."

Both men were now staring at her expectantly. That was all the encouragement she needed.

The professor took in the sight of her and she let him.

"My late husband was very fond of medicine and science." She began calmly.

"This was his life’s work. I confess that I did not take much interest in his work while he was alive. It seemed so distant from the ordinary concerns of my own life."

Her breath caught, as though the mere mention of her late husband had overwhelmed her with emotion. She swallowed hard, appearing to search for the right words. It was a performance, and she played the part beautifully, even brushing away tears that were never there to begin with, just to make the act more convincing.

"But after he died, I found myself wanting to understand, to learn about what he loved so much. I want to know what was important enough to him that he devoted himself to it."

Professor Bellamy’s gaze softened, moved by her show of grief. Everything was fake, down to the thickness of her voice.

His sympathy appeared in the gentling of his voice and the way his attention settled more fully upon her. He believed he was looking at a grieving widow attempting to preserve something of her husband’s memory.

The lie was working.

"And after hearing your lecture," Cassandra continued, "I believe I understand him a little better."

"I am glad to hear it," the professor said.

"I found it quite fascinating. There were things I had never encountered before today. During the lecture, I found myself thinking that perhaps I should have listened to my husband more carefully when he spoke of his work." Her voice faltered ever so slightly. Then she gathered herself.

"I must confess, however, that my brother and I had another reason for approaching you. When my husband died, I went through his correspondence. I wanted to keep some of his things close to me, and in doing so I found several old letters from an old acquaintance, a man who had been his fellow student."

She lowered her gaze again. "They seemed quite close, judging by the familiarity of the letters. But the correspondence became less frequent, and eventually there were no more letters dated from recent years. I assumed they had simply lost touch. I thought I might find the gentleman and tell him of my husband’s passing. It seemed only right, after all."

Cassandra allowed herself a faint smile, as though embarrassed by how much importance she had attached to the matter.

"I have made some effort to find him, but he has proved quite elusive."

"Who is the gentleman?" Professor Bellamy asked.

Cassandra’s eyes brightened, though she had to restrain the eagerness that rose within her.

"Lawrence Whitmore, sir."

The professor went still for a moment.

"Whitmore," he repeated thoughtfully as he searched his memory. "Yes. I know the name."