“Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, avarice, gluttony, and lust.”
“Ah.” The woman shivered. “Now my Catholic upbringing is coming back to me. Although you could say that in the news business, we tend to be acquainted with sin in all of its various forms. So you’re presenting your lecture tomorrow?”
Gabriel froze. His status as Sage Lecturer was not to be known by the public until the announcement tomorrow. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re a professor of literature?” The woman turned her head and gave Gabriel an expectant look.
Gabriel forced a smile. “Just a Dante enthusiast from America, happy to meet some of his Edinburgh colleagues.”
At that moment, a rather rowdy group of men and women entered the bar and walked straight toward the woman. She cursed them, but with a smile on her face.
Gabriel abandoned his second espresso and quickly charged his refreshment to his suite.
The television crew ordered drinks, talking boisterously among themselves.
Gabriel retrieved his coat, hat, and umbrella. As he turned to go, the woman approached him.
She extended a business card. “Eleanor Michaels, BBC News. We’ll be covering the Sage Lectures announcement tomorrow.”
Gabriel adopted a stoic expression. It would be rude—and undoubtedly suspicious—to refuse the card.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Michaels.” He accepted the card and shook her hand. “What are the Sage Lectures?”
“You tell me. And it’s Eleanor.” She leaned forward. “I know it’s shrouded in secrecy, and no one is supposed to know anything before the announcement, but I hope you’ll give us an interview tomorrow.”
He lowered his chin patiently. “Enjoy your evening.”
“See you tomorrow. Hope the rain ends.” The woman smiled before returning to her colleagues.
Gabriel pocketed the card and went upstairs to the suite.
Stercus, he thought.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The following afternoon
Old College
The University of Edinburgh
This is very grand, Julia thought as she entered the Old College Quad on foot. The college itself was very regal and made of stone, rising in front of her with high arched windows and elegant pillars.
Since Gabriel had to arrive early, Graham had agreed to meet Julia in the quad. He greeted her with a friendly smile and walked her to the entrance, being careful to avoid the immaculately manicured grass.
Julia was grateful for her university escort, as finding the Playfair Library Hall wasn’t easy. The hall was bright and had a large barrel ceiling. White pillars lined the space, along with a series of marble busts perched atop plinths.
Julia regarded the bookshelves and their contents with envy, wishing she had time to explore the collection.
Almost all of the two hundred fifty seats in the hall were taken. And there was a large media section gathered at the back of the room, behind the last row of chairs. Julia noticed that BBC News was present, along with several other press organizations.
Graham escorted Julia to the front row. She was careful as she walked in her high heels, determined not to stumble in front of the crowd of people.
Gabriel was nowhere to be found.
“I’ll find you after.” He’d kissed her in their suite more than an hour ago and lowered his voice to a whisper. “See me in my office after class.”
Julia had trembled at his words, which brought her back to the command he’d given her on the very first class of his she’d attended.
He must be joking, she thought, as she walked toward the front. He doesn’t have an office. At least, not yet.
But Gabriel never joked about sex. No, on the subject of the erotic arts he was always serious.
Which means that we . . .
Julia didn’t finish the thought. Seated in the front row were two figures she recognized. She paused, confused.
“There she is.” Katherine Picton rose and crossed over to Julia. The two women embraced.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Julia faltered.
“I heard a rumor that this year’s announcement of the Sage Lecturer would be worth attending.” Katherine’s eyes shone mischievously. “I’m not alone. I believe you two have met?”
Katherine stood back and gestured between Julia and an aged man who wore a tweed jacket and dark corduroy trousers.
“Don Wodehouse.” The man removed his glasses and extended his hand to Julia.
“Professor Wodehouse, it’s good to see you again.” Julia’s voice was faint, for she was in shock. She mustered a smile.
“Graham.” Professor Wodehouse shook hands with his former student, although his greeting was remarkably cool.
Graham appeared unfazed by the professor’s demeanor and smiled. “Julia has been telling me about her paper on Guido da Montefeltro.”
Julia tensed.
“Yes, I’m familiar with that paper.” Professor Wodehouse replaced his glasses on his nose. “I’m interested to hear what Mrs. Emerson has to say about Dante’s treatment of Ulysses.”
Julia felt almost light-headed. “I haven’t focused on that text, but I’m looking forward to discussing it with everyone at the workshop you’ve organized in April.”
Graham chuckled next to her.
“Yes, there will be plenty of time to discuss Ulysses.” Katherine nudged Professor Wodehouse. “We need to sit down. I see the guest of honor has arrived.”
At that moment, Gabriel entered the hall with a group of university officials, in full regalia. Julia found herself seated in between Graham and Katherine as Professor Wodehouse took a chair on the other side of Katherine.
Gabriel and the officials gathered on the raised platform. Julia recognized most of the dignitaries from the reception the evening before.
Having just survived a brief challenge from Professor Wodehouse, who by all accounts was intimidating, Julia’s heart beat quickly. She was reminded of how, more than three years ago, she sat in Gabriel’s seminar at the University of Toronto—a young, grass-green graduate student who’d hidden a secret love for her professor in her heart. How far they’d come.
She had survived Toronto and their separation. She had survived Christa Peterson and Paulina Gruscheva. Despite her inherent shyness, she’d won a place at Harvard. All that remained was for her to complete her program and then she, like Gabriel, would have the academic freedom to study and write what she pleased.