by Sofia Daniel
“I’d like to invite you to breakfast with us at the head table.” His gaze fell on Rita. “You and Miss Yelverton.”
Rita squeaked and shook her head. I was about to muster up a polite refusal, when Charlotte drawled, “Really, Edward? There’s only so much whorishness one can take before the first bell.”
The warmth in Edward’s eyes disappeared, and he turned to Charlotte, lips flattened in an angry line. In clipped tones, he said, “Yet here you are, sitting among us.”
A bolt of triumph shot through my heart and exploded into fireworks of joy. Gasps, a few nervous chuckles, and exclamations of shock filled the room. Rita scuttled to our usual table, leaving me standing alone in the sea of spectators. Anticipation thrummed in my chest. This was a deciding moment. If I publicly refused his offer of friendship, Edward might restart the war.
I glanced at Rita, who shrugged. Her way of saying it was up to me. Last night, I’d half convinced her that things were different between Henry and me.
Henry smiled and gave his head a little, beckoning flick. All the tension around my chest unwound itself, and I smiled back. Whatever the triumvirate had planned for me, it wouldn’t culminate in public humiliation… today.
In my clearest voice, I pulled back my shoulders and said, “Thank you, Mercia. I think I will take up your invitation.”
Edward lowered himself into his seat, and I walked around to take the empty seat next to Henry. The peck on the cheek he gave me made my insides fizzle with joy, and elicited a round of even louder gasps from the onlookers.
“We missed you at lunch and dinner yesterday,” Henry murmured. “I thought you might be hungry, so I sent Matron up with food. How are you feeling?”
I drew back and stared into those warm, green eyes, my heart filling with joy. “That was you?”
The corner of his lip quirked. “I thought you might want a change from your usual fare of Snickers and ready salted crisps.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“And you look particularly radiant this morning.”
“Thank the wonders of a clean bed and a warm shower.”
He poured me a glass of orange juice from a crystal jug. “Those were also two things I missed the most, but I’d swap them any time for another chance to sleep by your side.”
The memories of his hand on my stomach and his fingers pleasuring me to distraction returned, making my nipples tighten and heat to surge between my legs. I dipped my head and squeezed my thighs together, murmuring, “Your company was the only upside to being in that room.”
“Only my company?” he said in a low voice that was both seductive and teasing.
I picked up my glass and gulped down a mouthful of juice. “There were other benefits.”
One of the servers brought my usual cooked breakfast but served on a plate of fine china instead of the porcelain. It was then that my gaze caught the extra knives, forks, and spoons at my place setting. My brows rose. The head table was more than an elevated platform, it was an exercise in fine dining.
I cut a piece of grilled tomato and hummed at the explosion of flavor. After a week of eating junk, real food was a welcome sight. Even the pale bacon and blood sausage were appealing.
Charlotte whined from Blake’s end of the table, “What happened between them? Why did they go away for so long? Nobody’s saying anything!”
I glanced up at Henry. “You didn’t tell her?”
His lips tightened. “The fewer people who know, the better. Even in a closed-off environment like Mercia Academy, news can leak to the press and give people ideas.”
“I told Rita,” I whispered.
“We thought you might,” he replied. “Yelverton knows to keep her mouth shut.”
I lowered my knife and fork and glared at the side of his handsome face. Without the stubble, he looked less the rugged football player and more the dashing prince. “Is that a threat?”
Henry stopped eating to meet my gaze. “It’s an observation. Unlike some of the girls around here, Yelverton isn’t a gossip, and I expect that neither are you.”
I let out a breath and returned to my breakfast. Perhaps the boys had been serious about changing, after all.
“Well?” snapped Charlotte. “Did they disappear to the same place?”
Her two doppelgängers at the end of the table murmured their agreement. Patricia said in a loud voice, “The trollop probably got recalled to her brothel for retraining.”
The pair shared congratulatory giggles. From the way they acted, it was as though they’d never been able to produce an insult that hadn’t already been uttered by someone with more wit.
Edward stood, shoulders tense and raised a few inches higher than usual. “Alice, Patricia, please find alternative seating arrangements. You are no longer welcome at my table.”
I held my breath and froze. Those were the two girls he’d been dating. What was he saying? Patricia leaned forward and tried to catch Edward’s eye. From the way she swung her neck from side to side, snake-charmer style, it looked like Edward stared through them. If she hadn’t been involved in some of the pranks perpetrated against me, I might have felt sorry for the girl. Right now, I could only think thoughts of vindication.
“What?” said Charlotte. “You can’t just banish them after everything they’ve done for you.”
“You are free to leave with them,” he said through clenched teeth.
Charlotte turned to Blake, who stared ahead. In a small voice, she said, “But I’ve sat at your table since third year. How could you eject my friends and me for insulting a low-life trollop?”
“And now, you’ve outstayed your welcome,” Edward said, nostrils flaring. “Leave, Miss Underwood, or I will have you removed.”
Charlotte was the first to stand. She tossed her ponytail, stuck her nose in the air and announced, “There’s a foul stench in the air, and it’s made me lose my appetite. Come on, girls.”
Patricia and Alice stood, amidst a smattering of applause. I gaped at the looks of glee on the other students’ faces. It looked like the girls weren’t as popular as they’d thought. They sashayed, single file, to the dining room doors and walked out into the hallway. I hid my expression with my crystal glass of orange juice. This was a fitting end to Charlotte’s reign as the Queen of Mercia Academy.
I turned to look for Rita at our usual table. She wasn’t there but three tables across with a trio of students I’d never seen before. A black-haired girl with her hair tied back into a high ponytail, and two unremarkable-looking boys. My brows furrowed.
“Worrying about Yelverton?” asked Henry.
“Who are those people?”
“Other scholarship students.”
“Oh.” She had mentioned spending time with the other scholarship students while I’d been away. I straightened in my seat and smiled at her. Even if it had been to speculate on my grizzly fate, I was glad she’d connected with them.
Classes were a blur of trying to keep up with the lessons I’d missed. Fewer people in the hallways called me Trollop. I supposed the other houses hadn’t yet gotten the message about my ceasefire with the triumvirate. It would probably not last. Good things never did. But I would savor the peace I got from not having to constantly be on alert for insults and pranks.
Later that day, Charlotte caught up with me on one of the tree-lined pathways as I walked back to Elder House. She grabbed my wrist. “What did you do, Trollop?”
I snatched my arm away, resisting the urge to shove her to the ground. “Watch it! I still owe you for throwing hot chocolate in my face and for kicking me in the stomach.”
She bared her teeth and hissed, “What do you expect for showing off that video, whore?”
A snort caught in the back of my throat. “Says the girl caught on camera sword swallowing! Look, I didn’t even record your blowjob. Maybe you’ve done it so many times, there’s dozens of videos of you in circulation.”
“I doubt that,” she snapped.
I raised a shoulder. “All I ever wanted was a ceasefire. Why on earth would I have jeopardized that for a stupid prank?”
Charlotte pursed her lips, eyes burning with hatred. I shifted my weight onto my other hip and folded my arms. She could resent me all she wanted for encroaching on her imagined claim on the triumvirate, but I expect she couldn’t deny the truth in my words. It wasn’t me who broke the agreement.
Her lip curled. “If you’re lying, I’ll—”
“What? Have me wake up in the middle of a pond? Put arsenic in my tea? Someone who hates you just as much as you hate me shot and broadcasted that video to the entire house. Look elsewhere. I’m not your enemy.”
“Then why did you take my place at the head table?” she screeched.
“If someone offers an olive branch, I’ll take it. You’re the ones who couldn’t stop making uncouth comments.”
Blake strolled up to us, looking the resolute playboy with the burgundy blazer skimming his lean physique. He placed his hands in his pockets and took his time in reaching where we stood. Tendrils of messy black hair framed his tanned features, and he flashed us a panty-melting grin.
“Problems, ladies?” he asked.
Charlotte whirled on him. “I can’t believe you’re being civil to her after what she did.”
“Oh.” His brows rose. “Care to elaborate?”
“That video,” she hissed.
“The one I told Bingham’s assistants to play on the projector?” Blake asked.
I clapped my hand over my mouth. Blake must have stolen my phone while helping us put up our tent. I had wondered why he was being so attentive, but after that tiring trek up the hills, and our multiple failed attempts at deciphering the instruction, I finally gave in and let Blake help us. I had been too busy scrutinizing him for signs of sabotaging our tent to notice him take my phone out of my waterproof jacket.
Charlotte staggered back, eyes bulging. “What?” Her bottom lip trembled. “Why?”
His grin widened. “I wanted to see the fallout. Wanted to show the world your prowess. Wanted to brighten up the evening. Take your pick.”
I held out my hand. “Thanks for framing me. I found the fallout invigorating. Now, if you’ve quite finished with my phone, I’ll take it back.”
He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out my smartphone. “I didn’t try to guess your passcode, I swear.”
“Right.” I didn’t believe that for a minute. I turned to Charlotte, whose hazel eyes glistened with tears. Any pity I might have had for her public humiliation and subsequent betrayal spilled away with the hot chocolate she had thrown in my face. “You see? There’s your pornographer. Now you know I didn’t make or broadcast that video.”
“No, but you claimed to have shot it,” she spat.
My lips tightened. Wasn’t she going to say anything to the guy who humiliated her in public? Apparently not. Another example of how the privileged got away with their crap.
I stepped back. “I’ll leave the pair of you to work out your differences. If I were you, Underwood, I wouldn’t call people trollop or whore when you’re the one acting the part.”
The look of hatred she shot me said that Edward might have announced a ceasefire, but she was determined to bury me six feet in the ground.
Chapter 17
For the rest of the week, I sat with the triumvirate at each mealtime, occasionally persuading Rita to take up their invitation. At those times, she remained quiet but answered their polite questions. When she didn’t sit with us, she ate with the other scholarship students. Henry continued to kiss me on the cheek each time we met, then Blake started to greet me with a peck. It was bizarre. Not Blake’s kiss. He was a natural flirt, and I expected no less from him, but the warmth I received, even from Edward, made me think they might be setting me up for a giant fall.
The boys sat with me in each class I shared with them, causing Charlotte and her doppelgängers to make disparaging remarks. On Friday morning, I sat between Edward and Henry at breakfast when Mr. Carbuncle brought Edward’s mail to the head table.
I stared down at the letters arranged neatly on a silver plate. One of them was even secured with a golden, wax seal. “Why can’t you go to the mailboxes yourself?”
“Edward’s correspondence goes to the new house,” said Henry.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You’re aware that Elder House was the original duke’s residence?” asked Edward.
I glanced at the painting of the first Duke of Mercia dining with King Henry V. “Yes, I heard about that.”
“Over the centuries, the family has built additional residences on the grounds. Largely to keep out of the way of the expanding school. The new one is our fifth.”
“What happens to the others?” I asked.
“They’re turned into school accommodation.” Edward broke open the seal of the fanciest looking letter, read its contents and turned to me, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “The Royal Academy is holding a charity ball on Christmas Eve. Will you be in the country or back in America?”
My brows drew together. I still hadn’t heard from Mom, even after I’d texted her to find out if she’d known about the kidnapping. If she couldn’t bother herself to find out if I was unhurt by the ordeal, she probably wouldn’t send me money for a flight back to New York. Even then, I would have stayed home, but she’d sold that apartment to move in with Rudolph. The thought of her not caring about my whereabouts made my heart sink and my shoulders droop.
I stared at my roasted tomatoes and sighed. “I planned on staying here for the vacation.”
“Accompany us,” he said.
My head snapped up. “To the ball?”
“It will be fun,” said Henry.
Blake leaned across the table. “Think about it… One of you and three of us. You’ll have a full dance card.”
I turned to Henry. “Isn’t that a bit awkward? I can’t go as all of your dates.”
He grinned. “You’d be doing us all a favor. Taking a lady to a ball is hard work.”
Blake wiped his hand over his brow in a theatric gesture. “The kissing of hands, the fetching of drinks, and all that dancing when you just want to stand in the corner and smoke a cigar.”
“Not to mention the demands for promenades,” said Henry.
I glanced from Blake, to Edward, to Henry. Although they all smiled, they each appeared serious about them all taking me as their date. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
Blake spluttered. “Look to your right, woman. You’re sitting next to a man who can get you any gown you desire.”
My heart flipped like a crepe, and I bit down on my bottom lip. Was this an impromptu re-enactment of Cinderella or Pretty Woman? I shook my head. “I don’t dance.”
Edward placed a hand on my wrist. The touch of his fingers on my skin sent a ripple of shock up my arm and into my heart, which made an extra-hard reverberation. In a low voice, he said, “We’d be delighted to help you practice the waltz. I, personally, would be honored if you accepted our invitation.”
I glanced at Henry. Of all the members of the triumvirate, he was the one I knew best. The soft smile curving his lips said it all. A fun night out was the boys’ way of showing me they were sorry. He’d promised to stop the bullying, and I believed him.
“Alright,” I murmured. “I accept.”
After breakfast on Sunday, the triumvirate escorted me to a limousine that sped us out of Mercia county and to the center of London. Blake mixed us bucks fizz, a cocktail of orange juice and champagne for the journey, while Edward and Henry explained what typically happened during these Royal Academy charity balls. I gulped down my cocktail and listened to their explanations. There were so many rules, and for the first time, I wished I’d kept Edward’s hurled copy of The Debrett's Guide to Etiquette and Modern Manners.
Bourneville’s department store was located in the heart of London on one of the roads leading from Piccadilly Ci
rcus. It was an imposing, palatial-looking building made of stone and arranged over five stories. Tall, symmetrical windows, each with multiple panels adorned the lower floors, while the ground floor boasted the kind of fashion displays found in major department stores worldwide. Its grand entrance consisted of Roman-style, stone pillars, sentineled by guards in old fashioned, blue livery.
My heart thrummed in my chest. One day, all this would belong to Henry, the boy who had become a close friend. I tried not to gasp, tried not to appear awed by the sheer size and grandeur of the department store, but it was a near impossible feat.
The limo driver opened the door, and Henry helped me out. “You’re going to look beautiful in a ballgown.”
I stared down at my leather jacket, tank top, and skinny jeans and gulped. Why hadn’t they warned me to dress for the occasion?
The men at the door instantly recognized Henry and swept into low bows as they opened the door. Tingles of excitement ran up and down my spine, and I ignored the tiny voice screaming in the back of my head. Cinderella had a fairy godmother. Pretty woman had a rich benefactor. And today, it looked like I had three. But when I stepped in and my lungs filled with the subtle scents of mingled perfumes, and I took the splendor of the marble-floors, unbelievably huge, crystal chandeliers, and assistants selling all manner of luxury goods, even the voice in the back of my head turned mute.
“Shopping can be a tiring event,” Edward drawled. “Shall we have lunch first?”
Henry led us through the store to a door where a pair of security guards stood. With their tailored suits, bullet-proof vests, and earpieces, they looked more like bodyguards. They probably carried at least two firearms. The kidnappers had held Henry for an entire day, demanding sensitive security information about the store. Had he been able to warn his parents in time? We hadn’t spoken in depth about the ordeal, as Henry wanted to forget about it and move on.
The guards opened the door, which led to a carved, mahogany staircase, lit by a hexagonal skylight. Antique crystal adorned the walls between portraits of men who bore a resemblance to Henry. He explained that this part of the store led to private dining rooms and apartments used by the family whenever they returned to London.