“Miss Hamilton, you say you never established a thesis proposal topic when Jeffrey Butler was your advisor?”
Maggie shakes her head. She looks sweet and innocent in a green sweater and gold necklace, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. She hasn’t looked at me since this meeting began. Hasn’t looked at anyone, in fact.
“That’s correct, Mr. Stafford,” she says. “I did my coursework when Professor Butler was my advisor, but he retired before I could establish a thesis topic. So when Professor West took his place, I thought it would be easy enough to get started writing my thesis.”
“But you claim Professor West has yet to approve your proposal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is the suggested topic, Miss Hamilton?”
Maggie blushes. The girl actually blushes. Apprehension digs into my shoulders.
“Well, Professor West suggested I write about Trotula of Salerno, who was a thirteenth-century female physician.” Maggie rubs a finger on the table. “Professor West wanted me to research medieval views of women’s sexuality.”
Shit.
“When I first joined the King’s faculty, you came to me with that topic,” I say, unable to prevent the angry bite in my tone. “You said you’d done some research the previous summer.”
“My daughter said that you insisted on it,” Edward Hamilton snaps. “That you forced her to—”
“Quiet, please, both of you,” Stafford interrupts. “Professor West, you’ll have a chance to respond when it’s your turn. Please remain quiet until I’ve finished questioning Miss Hamilton.”
I sit back and try to inhale. My apprehension deepens.
“So, Miss Hamilton, you claim Professor West suggested the topic of medieval women’s sexuality,” Stafford says.
“Yes. I should have been suspicious, but it seemed interesting at first. Until he started suggesting that I read books about gynecology and menstruation… stuff I wasn’t comfortable discussing with a male professor.”
“Did you tell Professor West about your reservations?”
“No, because I was afraid he’d make me start the process all over again. Then when he suggested that he’d only approve the proposal if I… if I submitted to him…” Her voice trails off plaintively.
The girl missed her calling. She should have been an actress.
“How did Professor West make that implication?” Stafford asks.
“He said that if I did what he wanted, he’d approve my proposal and we’d both be happy,” she says. “Then he tried to kiss me.”
I can’t fucking stand this. Edward Hamilton looks like he’s about to explode. Frances puts a warning hand on my arm.
“Professor West has suggested the opposite took place,” Stafford says. “That you, in fact, offered sexual favors in exchange for his academic support.”
Maggie shakes her head. “No, sir.”
Stafford glances at me. “Can you explain what happened in your view, Professor West?”
“Miss Hamilton and I had had conflict over her proposal all summer,” I explain. “She inappropriately approached my wife and asked for her help convincing me to approve her proposal. My wife told me about the encounter, and I confronted Miss Hamilton and told her she needed to change advisors. She was upset because she said changing advisors would mean she had to take her coursework all over again, and that would delay her graduation schedule.”
“Would it?” Stafford asks.
“Yes, but that was her fault,” I reply. “She had no right to approach my wife. Since Miss Hamilton was placed under my advisement, she has done no valuable research and taken none of my suggestions. So when I told her to change advisors, she got upset and asked me what it would take to get her proposal approved.”
“And you interpreted that as an offer of sexual favors?”
“Yes.”
“At any time did Miss Hamilton explicitly offer sexual favors to you?”
“Not explicitly, no, but the implication was clear.”
“What was your response, Professor West?”
“I asked her to leave my office.”
“Did you ever try to kiss her or touch her?”
“Never.”
“Did you ever make sexual or inappropriate comments to her?”
“Never.”
“Ever do that with another student?” Hamilton snaps at me.
“Mr. Hamilton, please,” Stafford says. “I will ask the questions.”
I stare at Hamilton from across the table. There’s something weirdly triumphant in his expression that makes my stomach turn.
“I must tell you again, Mr. Stafford,” Frances says, “that none of Professor West’s other students have even hinted that his behavior has been anything but professional.”
“I understand that, Professor Hunter, but it’s my job to investigate every angle.” Stafford consults his notes again. “Professor West…”
I hold up a hand to stop him, not taking my eyes off Edward Hamilton. “What did you mean by that question?”
Hamilton jerks his chin at Stafford. “Ask him.”
Stafford sighs. “Mr. Hamilton…”
“Ask West about his wife,” Hamilton orders.
Rage flashes through me. My fists clench.
“What about my wife?” I demand.
“Professor West, you stated that you never had a sexual relationship with a student,” Stafford says.