The Countess Conspiracy (Brothers Sinister #3)(64)

Oliver exhaled. “Knowing all this… I worry, Sebastian. You’re so…you, and she can be so…prickly.”

“Flowers only grow thorns because they need them to survive.” He smiled. “Look at what she’s managed, having to hide who she is. We can argue and argue and argue, for as long as we like. But in the end, thorns or no thorn, Violet is what she is.”

“Sebastian!” The call came from the pantry. “We need you.”

“And who are you?” Oliver asked.

He gave his friend’s arm a squeeze. “I’m the one she needs.”

Chapter Sixteen

VIOLET PUSHED A LOCK OF HAIR behind her ear and peered at the photograph. It wasn’t so easy to tuck away her growing sense of disquiet—or, for that matter, her increasing weariness—but she managed.

“We need a better name for these.” She stifled a yawn. “‘Individual chromatic elements’ is unwieldy. Chromatin is not a noun that can be counted. A pox on the person who named it chromatin.”

Next to her, Alice slumped in a chair, pushing fingers to her temples. “Thingy-blobby.” Her voice was laden with happy fatigue. “I’ve been calling them thingy-blobbies for months now. I know it’s not accepted scientific nomenclature. I’ll ask Simon when he returns.” She yawned. “What is the Greek for thingy-blobby?”

“I think it’s amoeba,” Violet said. It probably wasn’t funny, but they both slid into peals of extremely exhausted laughter.

“What about chromosome?” said a voice across the table from them.

“Chromosome,” Alice repeated, and they dissolved into laughter again. “Oh, that sounds funny. Look, it has the same meter as Figaro.”

“Chromosome,” Violet sang, and after the first iteration, Alice joined in. “Chromosome, chromosome chromosome chromosome!”

“I’m being tutored in Greek. Chromosome means colored body.”

Violet frowned, considering this. That sense of unease came back; this time, even though she gave it a solid shove, it wouldn’t retreat.

Slowly, she raised her head from the photograph she was contemplating.

It was…morning. How had it come to be morning? She didn’t recall sleeping. She didn’t recall anything but a blur of film negatives and glass slides. Her fingers were dyed a deep blue; the early sunlight reflected off piles of silver spoons right across from her.

Just beyond the silverware, watching with an earnest expression, sat Frederica Marshall. She was the one who had just spoken.

For one moment, Violet was filled with in uncomprehending confusion. Oh, God. What had she done?

“What are you doing, Violet?” asked a voice from behind her. She whirled in her seat. Robert and Oliver stood in the doorway. Robert’s hair was still damp; he held a cup of something steaming and hot, something that set her stomach growling.

“Oooh.” Alice staggered to her feet. “Good heavens. Look at the time. I’m too old to stay awake the entire night. I haven’t done that since I was twenty-two.”

“Violet?” Robert pressed.

Violet blinked. There was nothing to do but brazen it out. “Didn’t you know?” she said breezily. “One of the great unsolved questions in biology is that of how traits are passed from parent to child. There have been many theories.”

Robert shook his head blankly.

“Now Alice and Sebastian and I have our own theory.” Violet frowned. “Or—I mean—Professor Bollingall and Sebastian. I don’t know who I mean. In any event, we believe that traits are passed from child to parent through these.” She tapped her finger against the photograph on the table. “Chromosomes. We correlated Sebastian’s chart of attempted violet crosses with the number of thingy-blobbies observed in the cells of these species—”

“Yes, that’s enough explanation on that front.” Robert took a sip of his coffee. “I am still besieged with questions. Questions such as: Why are you doing this now?”

“I could hardly have done it any earlier.” Violet frowned. “I didn’t get the idea until just last night, when Jane started talking about aniline blue right while I was staring at Alice’s photographs of cellular division. And then—”

“No, no.” Oliver came and sat down next to Violet. “Violet. Good God. That’s not what he means. We just want to know.” He swallowed. “Why have you never told us you were one of the world’s foremost scientists?”

Her world stopped. The thing she hadn’t wanted to think about slipped back into her consciousness. Years of carefully creeping about—and she’d thrown away all her hard-earned secrecy in one selfish toss. Everyone here must know by now.

“I…” She licked her lips. “It’s that…”

If the truth came out, she’d never be received in polite society. Lily would cut her entirely. Her mother would… Violet couldn’t even think of what her mother would do.

And yet she wasn’t afraid. Maybe she was too tired for fear. Maybe she was too excited. She should have been shaking. Usually, a recital of the horrors to come would be enough to scare her, to remind Violet that she needed to keep quiet and keep her head down.

But today…

Jane had joined her husband in the room. She was staring at Violet, too. All those eyes, all focused on her.