by Sofia Daniel
Muffled giggles echoed through the hall. I slid further in my seat, dreading what he might say next. This guy was out of touch. Everyone was digital these days.
“But do you know the greatest gift of all?” He pressed his hands together and paused for effect.
Love? I turned to Mr. Burgh, who met my gaze with a warm smile and twinkling, blue eyes.
“Forgiveness.” The archbishop’s voice echoed with the resonance of the word.
Silence stretched out for several moments. Not even the first years spoke. I leaned back and snuck a peek across the other side at Father Neapolitan, whose nose wrinkled. Next to him, Lady Liddell’s smile froze. I turned back to the front. Why wasn’t I surprised that neither of them found the topic to their tastes?
The sermon continued with examples of Jesus forgiving others, and I sat straighter in my seat. He actually seemed like a decent person—the complete opposite of Elizabeth, who probably got her rotten personality from her sour-faced mother.
After a few more hymns and prayers, the archbishop wished us all a happy Christmas break, and Elizabeth stood with a velvet pouch for the collection. Her coat swung open, revealing the tuxedo dress I had made for the fashion show.
Any goodwill I might have felt from the sermon fizzled in the heat of the rage surging through my veins.
“Delilah,” Mr. Burgh whispered into my ear. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s wearing my dress,” I snarled.
He placed a palm on my shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t play into her hands by rising to the bait.”
My gaze flickered to the archbishop, who stood at the altar with Father Neapolitan. From the older man’s stiff posture, even he couldn’t stand the twit who dressed like he was auditioning for Neo from the Matrix. “If I stick around for a moment longer, I’m going to stuff that dress down her gullet.”
Mr. Burgh sighed. “Come on, let’s grab a cup of tea before you meet the Board of Governors.”
Chapter 6
Mr. Burgh placed an arm around my shoulders and guided me out through the back entrance of the chapel, avoiding Elizabeth, Father Neapolitan, and everyone else who would probably gape or gloat about my humiliating arrest. The strains of the organist filled the back hallway and mingled with the echo of our footsteps. The door creaked open. My heart leapfrogged out of my chest, and I turned around.
Mrs. Campbell walked toward us, fastening her coat. “I may as well leave now and get the meeting room ready.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Burgh. “Delilah and I will have a cup of tea before the disciplinary starts.”
The word was like a jab to the gut. Elizabeth framed me, wasted police time and resources, caused a ruckus in the academy, and stole my dress. What happened to ‘thou shalt not steal’ and ‘thou shalt not bear false witness’?
I turned to the fire exit and clenched my teeth. Even though I had done nothing wrong, the assholes had covered every angle of the set-up. Since the police couldn’t charge me for the possession of flour, the Board of Governors could expel me for lewd conduct.
After heaving open the wooden door and letting in a blast of icy air that set my teeth on edge, I stepped out into the cold, bright morning. The sun shone down from an azure sky that would have looked summery if it wasn’t for the tiny snowflakes swirling in the breeze. They settled on Father Neapolitan’s 1960’s Lincoln Continental and the huge, black Bentley parked at its side.
Two sets of footsteps rushed toward us, and I turned to find Orlando emerging from the side of the chapel with one of the twins. They both wore dark suits with white shirts and ties, each coated in the perfect veneer of Christian respectability.
I sucked in an icy breath through my teeth, and my feet froze on the frosted ground. Mr. Burgh approached from behind with a murmured question, but I couldn’t hear him through the fury roaring through my skull and the pulse pounding like war drums.
Those bastards.
Those bloody, fucking twats.
Right now, I wished I was in the matrix. I would turn all Trinity on the wankers and slice them into megapixels.
“Lilah.” Orlando raised both palms as though trying to stop traffic.
The engine of my anger revved up from fury to incandescent to about-to-explode. I fixed my gaze on Orlando, the only one of that terrible trio whose face didn’t make me want to self-combust. How dare they look me in the eye after knifing me in the back?
“Boys,” said Mr. Burgh, his voice as cold as the wind. “You’re already in enough trouble as it is, if you don’t stay away from Lilah, I’ll have you sent home for a week.”
“We just want to explain,” said Orlando.
“Bugger off,” I snarled.
Mrs. Campbell placed a gloved hand on my arm. “Don’t engage with them.”
I clamped my mouth together. This was probably an attempt to make the archbishop witness a brawl. The old man would probably decide I was bringing down the tone of his academy and expel me on the spot.
“Think carefully about who you decide to follow, boys,” said Mrs. Campbell. “From what I gather, your attempt to frame Delilah backfired the moment one of you angered your ringleader.”
“I expected better from the Deloraine and Nevis families,” said Mr. Burgh.
Orlando exchanged a glance with the Deloraine twin. I didn’t know if this was Kendrick or Maxwell, and I didn’t care. Until recently, it had been easy to tell them apart. Maxwell was the one with the tattoos, the piercings, and the swagger. Kendrick was the unadorned twin who played it straight. Apparently not, if he allowed his twin to use his identity to fuck me over.
Mr. Burgh placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me past the boys, and anguish rippled through my heart. What had I become?
Over the summer, I was the happiest girl in Richley. I’d gotten the grades I needed to get into the Fashion and Textiles course and could look forward to going to the London College of Fashion in two years. Then Sammy ruined everything by shagging my best friend and trying to brazen it out with his fists.
“Come along, Delilah.” Mr. Burgh gave me a gentle pat on the back.
With my grandfather at my side, I strode past Orlando and the twin with my nose in the air, not giving either of them a scrap of my attention. When I struck back, I would use their greatest fears against them. Just as they had done to me.
My long, outward breath formed a cloud of condensation. I continued through the parking lot, enjoying the shrill of Mrs. Campbell’s public dissection of their shitty morals and lack of character. According to her, they had gotten more than one girl in trouble for lewd conduct.
Turning to Mr. Burgh, I whispered, “Why haven’t they been expelled yet?”
“This afternoon at the emergency Board of Governors’ meeting, I’ll push for the Deloraine twins, but there’s little I can do about Mr. Nevis. In the meantime, don’t do anything rash.”
“Right.” This time, I would bide my time before striking back. No getting stabby then calling 999 with my fingerprints all over the weapon. This time, I’d attack from the shadows, sit back, and watch them flail.
At the end of the walkway, I glanced over my shoulder at the two boys standing side-by-side. We were too far away to see their expressions, but whatever Mrs. Campbell was saying to them made them both hunch their shoulders.
Inwardly cursing Crawford for snatching my coat off my back on Friday night, I adjusted the thick, woolen shawl over my shoulders to protect myself from the cold.
“Are you alright?” asked Mr. Burgh.
“Thanks for saving me from myself,” I muttered.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and brought me into his side. “Unfortunately, I’ll be on the other side of the table at your disciplinary. Will you be able to stay calm in the face of Elizabeth’s relatives?”
About forty-five minutes later, I sat alone at one end of a boardroom table, an empty seat at my side. The archbishop and Lady Liddell sat at the other end of the boardroom table, making me feel like
I was a prisoner of the Glorious Nation of Elizabeth.
On the left of Lady Liddell sat a younger version of the archbishop—Camden Liddell, I presumed from the toned physique and regimental posture. An old woman perched at his side, staring down at a notebook. Mr. Burgh and Mrs. Campbell sat opposite them, and three empty seats created what felt like an impassable gulf.
My throat dried, and I wiped my damp hands on the woolen fabric covering my thighs. If I had to make the comparison between a police interrogation and the Board of Governors, I’d have to say this was worse. At least when the police were doing things by the book, they allowed a girl a duty solicitor.
Right now, I would have even welcomed a mannequin with a clipboard. Anything to balance the numbers and make this disciplinary feel like less of an ambush.
The archbishop peered at me through his half-moon glasses. I pushed away thoughts of Dumbledore and focussed on the present. Despite the upbeat sermon, his kindly exterior had to hide a rotten core. How else could he have created a malevolent creature like Elizabeth?
“Delilah Hancock, do you understand why you’re here?” he asked.
One thing my stepfather drilled into my thick skull was never to admit anything under a police interrogation without the advice of a bent solicitor. So, I replied, “Not completely.”
Lady Liddell leaned forward, her perfect teeth bared. “Lewd conduct, disturbing the peace of the academy, and the distribution of drugs.”
Mrs. Campbell bristled. “Madam Chairwoman. It’s my understanding that the police exonerated Miss Hancock of the drugs charge.” She turned to Camden Liddell. “Is that not correct, Deputy Chief Constable?”
Camden Liddell grunted his agreement.
Mr. Burgh leaned back in his seat. “The real culprit of disturbing the academy’s peace is whoever called the police out of malice.”
Lady Liddell’s self-righteous expression flickered so rapidly I nearly missed it, but a quick glance at the archbishop told me he hadn’t been part of this conspiracy. I leaned forward and narrowed my eyes. How far would this upper-class bint stoop to cater to Elizabeth’s whims?
“Will you also claim innocence of lewd conduct?” Lady Liddell smirked.
My hands twitched to slap the Botox off her face. Fuck this toffee-nosed bitch and her snooty daughter. “If I’d known it was against school rules to be naked in my own bedroom, I would have gotten dressed in the bathroom with the door locked.”
She turned to the crooked policeman. “You arrested a half-naked boy in her room.”
Before he could reply, I said, “The police arrested him in the hallway on Elizabeth’s command.”
“But he was in your room,” she said.
“He probably wandered in to investigate the noise.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I would have reminded the officers to secure their supposed crime scene, but I had a giant police dog on my chest.”
Lady Liddell pursed her lips. “Before his arrest, Mr. Deloraine confirmed that you were…” She turned to her husband. “Please pardon the expression, Your Grace.”
I tamped down the urge to roll my eyes. She acted as though they’d never talked dirty in bed. Underneath all the makeup and fillers and fancy clothes, the woman looked like a hard-nosed skank.
As though it pained her to utter the words, Lady Liddell said, “Mr. Deloraine claimed that Miss Hancock was, and I quote, ‘an unbelievable fuck.’”
Mr. Burgh stiffened, and my insides tightened into knots. Avoiding the disappointment in his gaze, I turned to the archbishop, who raised his brows, seeming impressed.
Seriously, if I wasn’t facing expulsion, hurting my grandfather, and a one-way ticket back to the wrath of Billy Hancock, I would have laughed my ass off.
The archbishop leaned forward, his blue eyes twinkling. “Is this the same Mr. Deloraine we suspended for questionable conduct with Mr. Nevis?”
A week ago, I might have spoken up and explained that I’d tricked Maxwell into getting hard and naked with Orlando. Now, I was happy to throw that fucker under a double-decker bus.
In my best archbishop’s pet voice, I said, “Yes, sir.”
His expression brightened. “I expect Mr. and Mrs. Nevis will be delighted their son has departed from the ways of Oscar Wilde.”
I clamped my lips together, not wanting to ruin things by telling the old fart that one good, hetero fuck wasn’t the cure-all for homosexuality.
Camden Liddell shook his head. “Miss Hancock is a terrible influence on our students. The sooner we send her back to Richley, the sooner we can restore order in the academy.”
The old woman at his side nodded.
“No.” The archbishop steepled his fingers.
“What?” Lady Liddell spat. “Nudity and fornication aren’t lewd?”
“I believe Miss Hancock might benefit from the environment of Templar Academy.” The old man gave me a kindly smile.
Camden Liddell leaned forward and frowned. “If we fail to punish rule-breaking—”
“Miss Hancock will be suspended for the rest of the autumn term and excluded from all festivities,” said the archbishop with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And she will serve three detentions with Father Neapolitan.”
My jaw dropped. Billy Hancock and his hungry hounds or Father Neapolitan and his judgmental ways. It was a difficult choice.
“I think that’s acceptable,” said Mrs. Campbell.
“Agreed.” Mr. Burgh folded his arms.
All counterarguments died on the back of my throat. As much as I wanted to avoid that creepy priest, speaking up now might evaporate the archbishop’s goodwill and jettison me back into the life I’d escaped.
“Off you go, Miss Hancock,” said Mrs. Campbell. “We have one more miscreant to see before lunch.”
“Thank you,” I said to the right half of the room. As far as punishments went, this wasn’t too terrible.
After giving the Board of Governors a sweet smile, I walked out of the room and straight into a broad chest. My gaze slid up the chiseled body, and I met a familiar face marred by bruises and swelling.
A fist of anxiety hit me in the gut, and I staggered back several paces.
What in the holy highlands had happened to Maxwell in police custody?
Chapter 7
I snatched my gaze away from Maxwell’s bruised face, my heart clenching painfully with unwanted sympathy. At this time on Sunday, the hallways were deserted. Most of the students were at lunch, with the older ones eating at one of the many restaurants in Templar village.
“Lilah,” Maxwell said, his voice soft.
Whatever had happened to him in police custody was none of my business. It wasn’t me who had arranged the raid and it wasn’t me who had screeched accusations about him to the police and gotten him arrested.
Side-stepping him didn’t work. The wretched bastard got in my way, imprisoning me with his large body. I wanted to shove him hard in the chest, but previous experience told me that wouldn’t work, and I’d be damned if I gave him the satisfaction of feeling my anger. Some guys interpreted anything other than indifference as infatuation.
I wouldn’t be that girl. Wouldn’t be the wailing mess that bared my feelings only to sob on his chest when he wrapped his arms around me and apologized. I wanted him sorry but not on his terms.
“Look at me,” he said.
A lump formed in the back of my throat, and I shoved aside the memory of that mind-blowing sex. It never happened. It didn’t count. That person who had run with me through the hallways and jumped on the back of Crawford’s motorbike didn’t exist. He was a fabrication. A sick joke.
Pain lanced through my heart and spread across my chest. It reached the back of my throat and filled my sinuses. In a minute, I would cry, and right now, I couldn’t tell if Maxwell would laugh or use my tears as a means to worm his way back into my knickers.
His warm hand landed on my shoulder. “Are you al—”
“No.” Not looking at him, I flinched away.
“Don’t touch me. Ever.”
This time, Maxwell stood aside and let me go.
With my eyes firmly on the wooden floors, I bolted through the hallway. Kendrick and Orlando stood against the wall, but I rushed past them before they could act.
Fortunately, neither of them tried to grab my arm and force a confrontation. Maybe because this time, they didn’t have a reason to feel aggrieved at something I supposedly had or hadn’t done. This was all on Elizabeth.
Outside, the fresh, winter wind blew through my hair and chilled the top layer of my skin. I wished it could numb my heart, but a mix of hurt and indignation seared through my veins, reviving the pain of his betrayal. At its core was a deep pining to understand why he’d gone so far, but I tamped it down and shoved it somewhere else.
Without Mr. Burgh around, his living room seemed overly large and drafty, even with a fire blazing in the hearth. I sat on a high-backed chair at the fireside and threw a couple of pinecones into the flames. A satisfying, menthol-scented warmth blazed back but faded after a few seconds.
Maxwell’s battered face flashed through my mind. What had he wanted to say? I stared into the fire for answers, but none came.
The flames flickered and danced and bobbed to an imaginary beat, reminding me of the times I had gotten off with both Maxwell and Orlando. Both times, I’d left them with blue balls. Was that the reason why Maxwell had schemed with Elizabeth to set me up for the raid? From what he had said before getting arrested, it had been his idea to get me into bed.
The doorbell rang.
My stomach flipped like a pancake. Had Orlando or Kendrick followed me? I stood on shaky legs and walked out of the living room, practicing witty put-downs in case the boys had returned for round three.
A growl reverberated in the back of my throat. Those fuckers needed to know we were even. Getting them suspended for lewd behavior had been an accident—nothing compared to getting me arrested and nearly mauled by police sniffer dogs.