by Sofia Daniel
I slipped off my panties, but Edward’s gaze didn’t waver from my eyes. Damn. I was glad he hadn’t seen my body while the bruises had been worse. “The painkillers are great, even though they make me drowsy.”
He stepped forward. “Are you sure you should be showering alone?”
My heart skipped a beat. “I could always use a helping hand.”
His brows drew together. “This is serious, Emilia.”
I gave him a quick peck on the lips and pulled him into the shower. Unfortunately, the shock of my bruises reawakened his gentlemanly instincts, and he washed my body with the professionalism and precision of a surgeon.
After we dressed, we walked hand-in-hand to the dining room, where Henry sat at a table in the middle of the room with Blake.
Sunlight filtered in through the high windows, making the ends of Henry’s hair shine like candle flames. As soon as our gazes caught, he rose to his feet and stared at me with widened eyes that traveled around my face, down my neck, and lingered on the fading rope marks on my wrists.
His nostrils flared so quickly, I thought I’d imagined the expression, then he asked, “How are you feeling?”
I sat at his side and placed a hand on his clenched fist. Throughout my assurances, his face tightened into a false mask of calm, and his breathing quickened. I gave his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to do that stiff upper lip thing. You can tell me if you’re mad.”
“The only person I’m angry with are those two bastards,” he said through clenched teeth.
“And that bloody bitch,” added Blake. “Who else would have left that fake invitation in your hallway?”
Edward poured me a glass of orange juice for my pain tablet, and I tried to drown out their plans to deal with Charlotte. Somehow, she had worked out that I had been behind the leaks, and she probably now blamed me for exposing her brother’s gambling addiction, her father’s fall from grace and impending jail sentence, and the resulting sharp decline in her family fortunes. I’d taken my revenge against her too far, and she had retaliated in kind. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t smash her in the face as soon as I could swing a punch.
Coates and three other boys from the rugby team carried a pair of empty tables and chairs to the podium, getting the space ready for Charlotte’s grand entrance. The matron rushed up to admonish them for moving the furniture, but they walked around her like she didn’t exist. I rolled my eyes and stirred my porridge.
“They’re slipping,” muttered Edward. “Last week, they would have had that table ready before anyone arrived.”
Blake shook his head. “She probably can’t satisfy four rugby boys.”
I leaned forward, eyes wide. “You think she’s in a relationship with Coates and his friends?”
Henry barked a laugh. “That’s what she thinks. You should hear what they say about her in the changing rooms.”
“Coates wouldn’t cow-tow to someone he didn’t respect.” Edward cast a disapproving glare on the large boys who had laid the table cloth and were now setting the table with fine china and silverware they’d produced from a box. “What does Charlotte have on him?”
“She’s bribing them,” I said.
Blake shook his head. “I doubt it. They wouldn’t need the money—” His face split into a grin. “Oh, you mean with sex? Coates is a virgin, so…”
Henry snickered. I glanced at Coates, wondering why the triumvirate disliked him. According to Edward, Blake had once put hair remover cream in his sunblock, which seemed like a nasty prank to pull on someone who regularly changed in front of other boys. Maybe Coates was helping Charlotte because he was happy to see the triumvirate dethroned and someone who had hurt him less on the throne.
More students entered the dining room. Whenever their gazes turned to our table, they would catch sight of my face and do a double-take. I didn’t care what they thought, since most of them would attack me if prompted to do so by someone they deemed more popular.
At last, Charlotte sashayed into the dining room with the gait of a runway model. Over the weekend, she had darkened her hair to a shade of pale auburn that matched mine. When she took her place at the head table, she curled her lip then pulled out her smartphone and took a picture of my swollen face.
I stilled.
Every ounce of awareness focussed on Charlotte’s smug expression. The students’ chatter, the clink of forks on plates, Henry’s angry, huffing breaths… everything faded into the background, replaced with the roar of blood between my ears. This was the bitch who had arranged that gauntlet, and now she had arranged for her brother and Mr. Carbuncle to abduct me. If Blake hadn’t arrived when he did, Mr. Carbuncle would have done much worse. And she had the nerve to smirk.
Someone placed a hand on my arm, and I shrugged it off. In the space of three seconds, I sprung to my feet, crossed the dining room, grabbed the edge of her table, and shoved it hard into her gut.
With a shriek, Charlotte tumbled backward in her chair, but it wasn’t enough. As though I’d absorbed Blake’s athletic prowess, I vaulted over the upturned table, straddled her chest and grabbed her by the hair.
The noise of the dining room returned in full force. Charlotte screeched and clawed at my hands, but it remained around her fake, auburn hair like a vice.
“You fucking bitch!” I smashed her head against the stone platform. “You sent your brother and Carbuncle to abduct me. Admit it!”
“She’s mad,” Charlotte screeched. “Coates, Bierson, help!”
The two rugby players moved toward me.
“Touch her, and I’ll break what’s left of your nose,” growled Henry from the other side of the table.
“Whoever records this and uploads a video to the Mercia-Net will suffer,” snapped Blake.
I punched Charlotte on the side of her face, but with my limited range of movement from the bruises, I couldn’t make enough of an impact.
“Emilia!” said Edward from behind.
“What?” I smashed her head against the platform one more time.
“Attacking Charlotte isn’t the answer.” He jumped onto the podium and rounded the table. “Even if the evidence points to her being responsible for your abduction, the police won’t take an assault lightly.”
I clenched my teeth and tightened my grip on her hair.
“I’ll press charges,” Charlotte yelled. “Then they’ll lock you up forever, you crazy bitch!”
“You will do nothing of the sort, unless you want even more information about you leaked to the press,” snapped Edward. He held out his hand and in a softer voice, said, “Emilia, let go of Charlotte’s hair. We can settle things with her later.”
I glanced around into the silence of the dining room. Someone had cleared the upturned tables, and now everyone, staff and students included, stared at me as if I’d turned savage. My fingers uncurled from her brittle hair, and I took Edward’s hand. He raised me off a winded-looking Charlotte, tucked me under his shoulder, and wrapped a comforting arm across my back.
Coates stepped toward Charlotte, who stretched out her hand for him to pick her up. Instead, he frowned at me. “You were the girl Underwood’s brother got into trouble for kidnapping?”
Her hand dropped to her side, and she didn’t answer.
“She left a party invitation near my room with an address in London. When I got there, the number didn’t exist. Underwood’s brother punched me unconscious and dragged me into an empty apartment. Mr. Carbuncle did the rest.”
Coates gaped at Charlotte.
She picked herself off the floor. The buttons of her shirt had burst open, revealing a shocking pink bra. “I-it’s a lie.”
“How did your brother know where to find Emilia?” asked Blake.
“I already told the police I didn’t know!” Charlotte spread her arms wide. “The papers didn’t mention Hobson’s name. M-maybe my brother got arrested for taking another girl, and Hobson slammed her face in the door to frame me for being involved.”
�
�Those bruises are days old,” said someone from within the dining room.
“She could have made them the day the news broke out and hidden all this time.”
“No.” Rita stood from where she sat with the scholarship students. “Emilia has been missing from our room since Saturday morning.”
Charlotte threw her hands in the air. “I didn’t say she hid in her room!” She stormed across the podium and hurried down its steps. “H-Hobson’s hated me since the day we met. She hates us all. That’s why she leaked all that information to the Saturday Correspondent!”
Gasps broke out across the room. I pressed my lips together and sucked in a breath through my flared nostrils. They hadn’t reacted to hearing that Charlotte had arranged my abduction, which was typical for the residents of Elder House. They would believe anything about me… Even if it was true this time.
“I saw bank statements with payments from the Correspondent with my very eyes.” Edward tightened his arm around me. “There were also checks payable to Carbuncle from the newspaper in his filing cabinet. Everyone, including Mr. Chaloner, was convinced of his guilt before he escaped to avoid charges.”
I stilled, and warmth trickled into my heart, making it swell. Edward had defended me, even in the face of irrefutable evidence that I had been the leak. My fingers curled around Edward’s side, and I gave him a squeeze I hoped would convey my gratitude.
Charlotte paused at the door and clenched her fists. “Carbuncle was loyal to the school!”
Blake folded his arms. “No… You’re loyal to Carbuncle.” He shook his head. “Scratch that. You’re loyal to his cunnilingus ’stache.
I fought back a wave of revulsion and the memory of the janitor’s overgrown, spittle-covered mustache. The rest of the dining room filled with laughter, and Charlotte’s face turned the color of her blazer. She picked up a broken plate, threw it at my head, and missed. Someone in the back of the room jeered, and she raced out through the tables and out of the doors. I gave Blake a grateful smile. Between him and Edward, they had averted what could have ended up in a violent mob.
After straightening and smoothing down my uniform, I walked around and off the podium.
Alice rushed over to me, her eyes wide. “Is it true?”
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. Hadn’t she heard me explain everything out loud?
She clapped her hands over her mouth and made a theatrical gasp. At times like this, it was hard to forget that she was a doppelgänger double-agent. “Why did they do that to your face?”
“They wanted to prove to my stepfather that they meant business. Every day he didn’t pay, they would do something worse and release the photos to the press.” Edward pressed his palm against the small of my back and steered me away from his former… co-girlfriend, frenemy-with-benefits?
Alice chased after us. “To shame him into paying?”
“Something like that.” I sat at the table.
“Do you think she’s luring me somewhere?” She rubbed her chin.
“What do you mean?”
“Charlotte’s holding a party in London in two weeks. It’s the event she’s promised will revolutionize Mercia Academy and cement her role as its ruler.”
Chapter 21
“Alice,” said Edward with a long sigh. “I owe you the deepest apologies for the way things happened between us.”
She stepped back, eyes wide. “What do you—”
“But if this is another plan to lure Emilia into an ambush, I will destroy you, utterly.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I-it isn’t.” She turned to me, eyes brimming with tears. “Ask Coates if you think I’m lying. Most boys in Elder and Hawthorn houses have bought their tickets.”
Blake’s brows rose. “They paid?”
Edward raised his hands. “I don’t want to hear it. Alice, leave.” She turned around and stormed out of the dining room, and then Edward turned to me. “I want you to stay away from Charlotte. She’s likely still in contact with Carbuncle, who will be on the run and desperate for money.”
I lowered my gaze to a plate of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon a server had slipped in my place setting. Edward was right, but Charlotte was still up to something, and I didn’t just mean my abduction. She had gained a level of overnight popularity that eclipsed the triumvirate and had managed to convince the boys to pay to attend her party. Would it be full of swingers?
“All the reason to go after her.” Henry slammed his crystal glass on the table.
My head snapped up. “You want to capture Carbuncle?”
“Beat him bloody, but yes, I suppose I’d have to capture him first.”
Blake clapped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I’ll be your second.”
“This isn’t a duel,” snapped Edward. “We’re not—”
“Overruled,” said Blake.
Henry folded his arms across his chest and gave Edward a sharp nod.
Edward turned to me. “Emilia,” he said in weary tones. “Please talk sense into these idiots.”
“The party is in two weeks,” I said. “By then, I’ll have mostly recovered. If we crash it, we can find out what she’s up to.”
“We can do that, too,” said Blake.
Edward’s lips flattened with disapproval. It looked like we would be gatecrashing Charlotte’s party, after all. He pulled himself out of his seat and stood. “Excuse me, Emilia, while I finalize arrangements for the academy’s temporary blood donation center.”
As he walked out of the room with his back ramrod straight, Blake stared after him with a frown. “What was that all about?”
“He’s pissed off.” Henry poured himself a cup of tea and raised the pot as though to ask me if I wanted some. When I shook my head, he poured out a cup for Blake.
“It’s World Blood Donor Day next month.”
“I don’t follow,” said Blake.
I reminded Blake and Henry about the penances each of them demanded from me at the start of term. While Blake wanted me to accompany him to Narcotics Anonymous, and Henry asked me to present myself to his parents as his girlfriend, Edward had wanted me to sit next to him in a meeting with the board of governors to present an idea to raise the profile of the academy in the press.
“I remember that now.” Henry took a slice of toast from the silver rack.
“That was real?” asked Blake. “I thought he was just trying to get into your knickers.”
I shook my head and smiled. Hopefully, Edward would join us in London. If there was a chance to hurt Mr. Carbuncle and have him finally thrown into prison, I would take it, even if it meant missing out on uncovering Charlotte’s machinations.
The party coincided with Elder House’s rugby match against Hawthorn House. We all lounged on the sofas at the front of the common room in protest of Coates ousting Henry as the team’s captain. It had been on the grounds of feeling uncomfortable in the changing rooms with someone so obviously gay. Yeah, as if Henry’s eye would wander to Coates when he roomed with someone as stunning as Blake.
When the clock struck four, I asked, “What time do they usually come back from a match?”
“Around now, I suppose,” said Edward.
“Unless a fight breaks out at the end,” added Henry.
Blake snickered. “Which happens about half the time.” The common room doors opened, and people streamed in, chatting from the match. “Here they are.”
I glanced at everyone who entered, noting some scholarship students and several people I’d seen around the house but who largely kept to themselves. None of the rugby players had arrived, and neither had any of their reserves. I leaned into Edward. “Doesn’t everyone usually arrive as a group?”
“They do.”
“Then where are Coates, Charlotte, and the other hangers-on?” I asked.
Henry narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think—”
“Nobody said the party would take place in the evening.” I pushed down on the armrest as leverage to hoist mys
elf up. The bruises still ached a little and had turned green, but I no longer wore dressings or took painkillers.
The others stood, and we walked out of the common room, through the hallway, across the entrance hall, and out of the double doors. A warm gust of citrus-scented air hit us from the direction of the magnolias as we walked down the stone steps.
A squat rugby player limped toward us leaning on a crutch. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood spilled from a head wound that had been wrapped in multiple layers of bandages and stained the front of his shirt. My stomach churned in sympathy for his injuries.
“Patterson-Bourke,” said Blake.
The boy’s eyes widened, and he clasped his free hand to his chest with the kind of shocked modesty of a girl finding a weirdo in the locker room.
“Don’t flatter yourself, you twat,” snapped Henry.
Patterson-Bourke’s gaze fixed on the one person he probably thought was unlikely to jump his squat, little bones: me. “Wh-what do you want?”
“Where are Underwood and the others?” asked Edward.
He flinched, as though the question was the crack of a whip. Still keeping his eyes on me, he said, “They all boarded the coach.”
“Where’s it going?” I asked.
“I-I don’t know. Underwood didn’t tell any of us the address. May I go, please?”
My heart sank. Charlotte had outsmarted me. Again.
“Come on,” said Edward. “There’s a driveway on the other side of the pitch. Maybe we can find some clues there.”
We left Patterson-Bourke quaking on the steps of Elder House under his bout of homophobia and headed down the gravel pathway past International House and toward the playing fields.
“I’m not holding out much hope for finding them,” I muttered. “It looks like she’s thought of everything.”
Blake stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and kicked a foot-full of gravel. “Me, neither.”
“We’ve got to try something,” said Henry.