The woman tapped ash from her cigarette into the crystal dish on the side table. “Eris Ermine. My father is Cedric Ermine.”
Saffron vaguely recalled the name Ermine from her earlier days in London but couldn’t remember anything specific. She gave Eris Ermine a polite smile and took another sip of coffee. To her relief, the gentlemen filed back in, carrying glasses of scotch or port, several puffing on cigars.
Miss Ermine sighed. “Never was one for the books, myself. But there are some values to working in academia.” Her eyes followed Dr. Henry as he entered, drink in hand.
“Er, yes,” Saffron agreed. “You know Dr. Henry? I believe he’s heading up the expedition.”
“Of course—he’s a favorite of my father’s.” She spoke in a low voice, eyes still on the man in question. “I might have to change my tune, though, if what I’ve heard about the university is true. Seems like some of you academic lot tend to spend a lot of time researching each other.” With that, she shot Saffron a sly smile and walked off toward Dr. Henry.
Saffron stared after her. What did that mean? Was that a reference to Dr. Berking? He’d said something nearly identical to her the last time she had spoken to him.
Saffron stood, deciding that it had been a mistake come to the dinner at all. Making connections simply wasn’t worth it.
In a moment, Mr. Ashton was before her. “May I get you a drink, Miss Everleigh?”
She blinked at him, surprised by his offer. “No, thank you. Excuse me.”
She’d just turned away to search out the lavatory when lumbering footsteps approached her. Her entire body tensed like it was preparing to flee, as if running away was the answer for dealing with the man she knew was behind her. His voice cut through the clinking of glasses and loud conversation surrounding her.
“Ashton, glad to see you abandoned your pretty petri dishes and joined us!”
Dr. Berking’s voice was the equivalent of a series of bombs dropping across her evening. Mr. Ashton turned toward the professor, and Saffron, gritting her teeth, did the same. The department head was a head shorter than Mr. Ashton and round as a barrel. Dr. Berking had a robust head of graying red hair and small blue eyes, with a mouth that was almost always curled into a grin. Now, that grin was as slimy as one of Dr. Maxwell’s butterwort leaves and just as benignly predatory. Saffron looked away, hoping he’d ignore her.
“I bet you’re regretting your choice not to apply to join us on this adventure, aren’t you, Ashton?” Berking nodded, chuckling. His eyes slid to Saffron. “Why, you are looking delectable this evening, Miss Everleigh!”
Her face heating, Saffron kept her gaze on the floor. He wanted to see her squirm under his lascivious glare. If she ignored him—
Berking lowered his booming voice slightly. “But then again, you always look good enough to eat. And the right flavor too.”
Saffron’s eyes snapped to Berking’s jeering face, and she swallowed her gasp of rage. He wasn’t looking at her, but to Mr. Ashton, looking to share a laugh.
Before she could muster up words to defend herself, Mr. Ashton said sharply, “That’s quite enough, Dr. Berking.”
Humiliation burned her face, that Mr. Ashton had to not only hear Berking’s comments but defend her against them. If the floor could open up and swallow her, she’d have been eternally grateful. Rather than sink into the carpet, Saffron stood stock-still as Berking put a large hand on her shoulder and chuckled. “Miss Everleigh knows I am the consummate joker, of course.”
He winked at Alexander and disappeared into the crowd.
Saffron managed to mumble, “Excuse me,” before slipping away.
CHAPTER 2
She should really leave soon, Saffron decided, staring into the mirror of the lavatory. She’d told herself she’d been waiting until the pink faded from her skin after scrubbing her shoulder with a dampened hand towel, but it was more than that. It had been years since she’d hidden out of mortification. She’d thought she’d outgrown the childish propensity, yet here she was. And all because of wretched Dr. Berking.
She’d managed to avoid him for weeks now, not just so he could forget their encounter, but so she could forget it too. But feeling his hand on her skin tonight took her right back to that horrible meeting. She shuddered.
It was silly—stupid really—to be so upset over it. From what Elizabeth had told her, what Berking had done wasn’t unusual, or even so bad. She’d gone to the department head’s office to discuss her latest idea for research. If she wanted to stand out from her peers and be selected to carry on with graduate work, she needed the support of the department head. Saffron had had no illusions about Dr. Berking, who’d been brash and insulting from the beginning. She had braced herself for an unpleasant interaction but had hoped that somehow he would hear her out and maybe even say yes to her proposal. She was very wrong. The results of that meeting lingered in the stirrings of fear she experienced whenever she heard the bark of Berking’s voice, the ominous thunder of his laugh. But he would be gone to Brazil for six whole months. She could cope for two more weeks.