It was a funny way to clean up a mess, I thought, placing a younger version of a man’s wife before him, but the public proceedings could not go on. Not if the Professor hoped to salvage his career and maintain ownership of the facility and the study he’d built. It was a threat I knew wouldn’t have frightened him until someone explained that he’d lose more than that. Camille must have, or Harvey. Someone who knew that the life he’d given me was only possible because of what he’d accomplished, because of the respect attached to his name and the generosity of first Dolores’s father and then the Shepherds. So that someone else might also have offered him one more strategy. And here we were, the Professor and his secret adviser hoping that Lyman Shepherd would recognize my uniqueness and convince Dolores not to reprint me. I could see from the Professor’s knitted brow and the way his hand crept around mine that he had considered nothing beyond that—certainly not the poorly contained excitement that flickered through Mr. Shepherd’s smile.

“Your hair was longer.”

My fingers resisted the urge to reach for the blunt ends of my modern bob. Instead, I nodded curtly.

“I like it,” he said quickly, his smile spreading slowly. “I’ve always preferred shorter hair on you.” I told myself it was only natural that someone who knew Dolores—the real and original—would speak to me as though I were her. “It frames your face well.”

“Mr. Shepherd, we’ve never met,” I couldn’t help but point out. “How could you have any preference about me at all?”

He continued to smile as though I’d spoken sweetly, and since I hadn’t raised my voice or stormed out, perhaps only the Professor could see my agitation.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Dolores? At home. She doesn’t like to come beyond the West Island.”

“I’d like to meet her first.”

“Nothing’s been decided, petite,” the Professor whispered.

“I could take you.”

When the Professor shot Lyman a disapproving glare, the younger man cleared his throat.

“If you’d like to meet her, I could escort you to our home. If that’s all right with Professor Toutant.”

“Well, it’s you and Dolores who own me, isn’t it? I’m sure you can take me wherever you please.”

My sterile honesty did not sit well with the Professor, and he spoke almost before I’d finished. “Mr. Shepherd, will you excuse us for a moment?”

His eyes shifting once between the Professor and I, Lyman dipped his head and let himself out. The Professor kept his stance for a moment. Like a sentinel on guard, he lifted his chin slightly, his arms at his side, his hands closing into fists and then releasing.