The Devlin Diary by Christi Phillips Read Free Book Online Page A

intermittent chuckles and gasps. “And no one said anything?”
    “Not a word. For the rest of the evening, people simply ignored this huge red splotch on my dress.”
    “Maybe they thought it was a fashion statement.”
    “God knows what they thought. I certainly don’t. They’re not at all like Americans, who are so willing to tell secrets to perfect strangers that they seem to enjoy broadcasting the most intimate details of their lives on national television.”
    “That’s a point in England’s favor.”
    “True.”
    “But that woman—”
    “You mean Carolyn Sutcliffe?”
    “I think she deserves another name, one that rhymes with witch,” Meredith said. “She put you next to that old guy on purpose. She knew what was going to happen to you even before you sat down.”
    “She couldn’t have known that he was going to spill wine on me.”
    “She knew something bad would happen.”
    After the dinner had ended, all of the fellows had gone to the Master’s Lodge for a long-standing tradition of after-dinner brandies and introductions: each older fellow was expected to introduce him or herself to each new fellow. It had been exhilarating in a way—the first time she had ever met one hundred and fifty or so people in one night—but unfortunately it had meant that she and Andrew hadn’t been able to talk, at least no more than the same polite banter she’d exchanged with the other fellows. She had felt frustrated by this, but Andrew hadn’t seemed to mind. “I wish I could read people better,” Claire said. “I can’t tell what they’re thinking. Except for Dr. Sutcliffe, who appears to hate me simply because her friend does.”
    “Do you really care what they’re thinking?”
    “Of course I care.” Well, there was at least one person whose thoughts she would have dearly loved to know, but he was as enigmatic as all the others, perhaps even more so. Why hadn’t Andrew Kent made an effort to sit next to her at the dinner? After all, he was practically the only person at Trinity she knew. Didn’t he feel someresponsibility to take her under his wing? “I’m just not so sure I’m going to fit in,” Claire admitted.
    “Why not?”
    “For one thing, I’m not a man. I looked up the roll of fellows, and among the total one hundred and sixty, only twenty-seven are women. That’s approximately sixteen percent—only one woman for every five point nine men.”
    “Really? What does nine-tenths of a man look like?”
    “Don’t mess with me. Among the students, the split is fairly even, about fifty-fifty. But among the fellows, women are a distinct minority. Minorities are a distinct minority too.”
    “So it’s still an old boy’s club, is it?”
    “Appears that way.”
    “You can’t let that intimidate you. In fact, it should spur you on to greater achievement. Your success isn’t just about you, it’s about all the women who come after you.”
    “That’s occurred to me already. It’s not exactly helping to alleviate my stress.”
    “I know you, Claire,” Meredith said seriously. “And I know that you of all people have what it takes to make a success of this opportunity.”
    “I wish I felt as confident as you.” Claire looked around at her set of rooms, or set, as it was called: a small suite that consisted of a main room with a dining table for four and a cozy armchair and floor lamp; an adjacent office with a desk, bookshelves, and a computer; and a bedroom and bath. The windows of the main room and the office looked over New Court, so called because it was a mere two hundred years old. Her set was larger, more light-filled and generally much more pleasant than she had expected her college living quarters to be. She couldn’t complain. Everything was terrific, really. Except that Trinity College was so different from American colleges, from the architectural design of the school itself (a succession of courtyards where both students and fellows lived and taught) to the