by Sofia Daniel
Orlando barked a laugh. “You’re right. Rechert Nevis smuggled whisky from Ireland before deciding to brew it himself from barley he won in a game of dice.”
We fell silent and sipped at our drinks, and a pang of guilt twanged at my heart for the mean comment. I’d never really thought of the knights as old money because they didn’t act like they were better than anyone around the academy. Nor did they try to claim a position of leadership, even though they were huge and handsome and stood out among the students.
“You’re the first scholarship student I’ve ever befriended,” Orlando murmured. “Everyone else I know comes from wealthy families and before Templar Academy, I went to a prep school full of people just the same as me.”
I sipped my drink, listening to him reminisce about his parents’ social circles and how they never gave him the chance to mix with kids his age from other backgrounds. It was like being a step away from royalty. Maybe if Scotland still had a separate monarchy from England, Orlando and the others would be friends with their crown prince.
My mind boggled at the high society parties and luncheons and charity events, and I couldn’t imagine living with such haughty expectations. Billy Hancock lived in one of the most expensive houses in Richley and always had lots of cash, but that didn’t buy him entry into any tier of society except for his own.
At school, I had friends from different backgrounds, and I knew how badly others struggled. Some of the foster homes I lived in were one step up from squalid, with parents accepting children for a juicy fostering allowance.
He sat back and offered me a crooked smile. “Do you still want to get involved with me?”
My gaze swept down his body and lingered on his crotch. “I can see one or two benefits to us getting much closer.”
Orlando exhaled a long breath. “On a serious note, I now see how easy it is for powerful people to crush lives and move on without a thought of those they’ve ruined.”
I squeezed his hand. If only there was someone who could help Elizabeth see the same.
Several minutes later, the bell for lunch rang, and we made our way to the dining hall. Gideon was the first of our group to arrive, followed by Maxwell and then Kendrick.
As I told them everything I knew, I kept glancing at the head table for signs of Mrs. Campbell. Both her and Mr. Burgh’s seats remained empty throughout the first course. Just as the servers were taking away our minestrone soup, Mrs. Campbell stepped in with a glow to her cheeks.
I rose to my feet and darted across the room. “Is Mr. Burgh still at the hearing?”
Her lips twisted into a tight smile, and her eyes flashed with triumph. “The headmaster and his advocates are ironing out a few issues with the academy. I expect he’ll be busy for another few hours.”
As Mrs. Campbell made her way to the head table, I returned to Gideon and the knights to find a plate of sausages and mash at my place setting.
“What did she say?” Kendrick asked as I took my seat.
“He’s still in there with his lawyers,” I replied.
Gideon steepled his fingers. “That sounds promising.”
“Or the archbishop brought his own lawyers, rendering the headmaster’s efforts null and void,” Kendrick drawled.
Orlando and Maxwell exchanged smirks and continued with their meals while Kendrick and Gideon speculated on opposing outcomes for Mr. Burgh. It wasn’t exactly a hostile conversation, and I could barely follow what they were saying, but my head spun with the testosterone-laden one-upmanship.
Gideon looked like he was enjoying the debate, so I cut a slice of sausage and popped it in my mouth. This had to be how introverts flexed their intellectual muscles.
After lunch, Maxwell and I followed another server with a trolley full of drinks to the boardroom. Since the meetings were still in progress, we made our way to Art and Design class.
Today’s lesson was portraiture, and the academy had hired a male model to pose in his underpants, while we sketched him with charcoal for the first hour, and then he changed position for a longer study that would last two weeks. Maxwell set up an easel to make an oil painting, and I chose watercolor paper, so I could leave early with minimal cleanup.
Thoughts of Mr. Burgh, Father Neapolitan, and the archbishop raced through my mind. Would they remove the suspension or make him wait weeks for them to investigate Elizabeth’s lies? What did the archbishop think of his wife and daughter’s machinations? Would Father Neapolitan try to approach me or continue to deny that he and I were related? An ache spread across my chest, and my heart pounded with a mix of fury and worry.
Maxwell turned away from his easel and frowned. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
He shook his head. “Don’t give them a reason to suspend you. Hang on for another ten minutes until the period ends. Leave your things and I’ll pack them up.”
Maxwell was right. I swirled my brush in the container of water, washing all the pigment from its bristles and blew on my unfinished underpainting.
As soon as the bell rang, I bolted out of the classroom, ran down the stairs and across the hallway. A pair of servers stood in the boardroom, clearing up a mountain of cups and plates. My heart flip-flopped. Where was Mr. Burgh?
I ran into the dark evening and down the driveway to the headmaster’s quarters. The downstairs windows glowed with dim light, indicating that the living room fire was blazing. My steps faltered. This had to be good news, right?
Mr. Burgh sat on the sofa, staring into the flames with a glass of whiskey in both hands that glinted in the firelight. Warm light reflected on his face, making his features more angular.
I hovered in the doorway, clasping my hands over a stomach fluttering with nerves. “How did it go?”
His gaze rose to meet mine, and he shuffled across the sofa in a silent invitation for me to take the center seat next to him. “I brought a defamation lawyer, a criminal lawyer, a lawyer who specialized in private education, and their senior partner. Each of them brought paralegals to gather information.”
I crept toward the sofa and winced. “That sounds expensive. Can you afford it?”
“There’s no price a man can put on his reputation.” He took a sip of the whiskey, pursed his lips, and stared into the fire.
Mr. Burgh told me how the senior partner said it would be a conflict of interest for Lady Liddell to chair the Board of Governors’ meeting in light of her allegations, and the archbishop agreed she should leave. After that, the lawyers took over, saying that their people were already downloading terabytes of information to get to the truth of what was really happening in the academy.
He chuckled. “The governors were delighted, but His Grace baulked at my legal team getting to the truth.”
My brows furrowed. “Shouldn’t the police have seized that information for their inquiries?”
Mr. Burgh pulled back his lips in a grimace. “When I reported Elizabeth’s cocaine possession on Saturday morning, they said they would bring an officer round to take a statement. Everything got shoved to the side with the shooting.”
I clapped a hand to my forehead. “That scheming old cow.”
He snorted. “Lady Liddell was so busy causing chaos to protect Elizabeth that she hadn’t thought to order a wipe of all footage from around the academy. The legal team are sorting through hours of activity that will prove that nothing untoward happened between Miss Liddell and me. It will also prove her involvement in the cocaine dealing and corroborate the statements of Miss Highmore and the two scholarship students who sold her curry.”
I whistled through my teeth. “What will happen to them?”
“They’re still her accomplices, but some of the punishment and blame may fall to where it belongs.”
I placed a hand on his forearm. “Why do you look so miserable?”
“It’s never easy to realize someone I considered a friend and mentor could sit back and allow his family to pick us apart like vultures.�
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I leaned against Mr. Burgh’s side and wrapped an arm around his middle. “Sorry you had to go through so much betrayal.”
“That’s not the end of it.”
I drew back and stared into his profile. “What else happened?”
“The archbishop and the governors reinstated me at the academy, and he ordered Lady Liddell and Elizabeth to retract their statements.”
“Would that get you out of trouble?” I asked.
“The police never pressed charges,” he muttered. “After everything they’ve put us through, we’re back how we started.”
“But you’re now out of pocket and Elizabeth’s bullshit will hang over you like a stink.”
“Crude but accurate,” he muttered.
A silence stretched between us, filled by the crack and pop of the fire. What was the bloody point of putting an old man through all this anguish, only to backtrack the moment he tried to fight back?
Mr. Burgh took a long sip of his drink. “There was one condition.”
“What was that?” I whispered.
“I must call off the lawyers and drop all charges of libel against the Liddells.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I scowled into the flames and clenched my teeth. Angry, prickly heat flared across my cheeks, and my blood screamed for vengeance. Even when the archbishop seemed the most reasonable of his wretched family, he offered back everything they took from Mr. Burgh in exchange for a coverup?
Every fiber of my being thrummed with the desire to tell Mr. Burgh to reject the archbishop’s offer and crush the Liddells instead, but lawyers were expensive. Some of them could cost over a thousand pounds per hour. Billy Hancock always griped that they were bigger thieves than bank robbers, who at least targeted institutions with insurance.
One time after winning a case, the senior partner of his firm took Billy out for a champagne dinner up in the west end of London, complete with an evening in an exclusive gentlemen’s club, where a bunch of them smoked fat cigars and drank vintage brandy. In the following month’s invoice, everything the lawyer spent that evening was not only itemized with his and his colleagues’ hourly rate but inflated with twenty percent value-added tax.
I turned to Mr. Burgh and sighed. Teachers didn’t spew cash like cocaine barons. Not even headmasters at private boarding schools who got to save their money from the free food and accommodation. No wonder he was staring at the flames, looking like he was about to jump off the high tower of bankruptcy. The Liddells could fight his lawyers, sending them around in circles, until Mr. Burgh lost his last penny on legal fees.
Before I could ask what he would do next, the phone rang.
With a sigh, Mr. Burgh rose from the sofa and shifted to the armchair closest to the landline. “Yes?”
A deep, loud voice spoke back, but I couldn’t make out the words. Mr. Burgh frowned. “Yes, it is.”
For the next few minutes, whoever was at the other end of the line laughed and bellowed down the phone. Mr. Burgh’s mouth hung open, and he stared at me as though I was an apparition of granddaughters past. I clasped my hands and sat straighter in my seat. The caller couldn’t be talking about me.
A loud pop from the fireplace had me looking into the flames for answers. They just flickered and danced and released tiny sparks. It would have been a calming sight if not for the mystery caller.
“I don’t have the words,” Mr. Burgh said in a voice choked with emotion. “Thank you.”
By the time he hung up, every nerve ending in my body thrummed with curiosity. I was about to ask, when he downed the entire glass of whisky and shuddered. Scooting back along the sofa, I waited for him to return to his seat.
“Good news?” I asked.
Mr. Burgh turned to me with his eyes narrowed. “What were you doing this morning?”
I leaned into the firm backrest, casting my mind back to when Lady Liddell ambushed me at breakfast. “I went to the Board of Governors’ meeting, then Business Studies.” My mind went blank. “Why?”
“That was Hamish Nevis.” He raised his brows and gave me a meaningful stare.
I tried to mirror his expression but didn’t quite have the eyebrows. “Orlando’s grandfather?”
“Lady Liddell called him to say that young Mr. Nevis was engaged in an act of public lewdness with my granddaughter.”
I shook my head. “We were just kissing.”
“Apparently, you seemed to have a rousing effect on his grandson.”
I wrinkled my nose. “She’s a liar—” My mind rolled back to that kiss we shared in the garden. I’d pressed against Orlando and felt that glorious, thick erection against my belly. “Why would that collagen cow look at him down there?”
Mr. Burgh shook his head, as though removing the image from his mind. “Nevis is so pleased that you seduced his son straight that he’s willing to fund any civil lawsuits against the academy.”
I stared up at my grandfather, letting the words percolate in my mind. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction to what appeared to be the most bizarre act of generosity. It was great that the old man would lift the financial burden from Mr. Burgh, but it was just a kiss. Any girl in the academy would jump at the chance to lock lips and other body parts with a hot guy like Orlando.
Then realization hit me upside the head. “That gay sex tape?”
Mr. Burgh nodded and lowered himself onto the sofa. “Nevis was still under the impression that Orlando and Maxwell were involved. He’s absolutely delighted at the prospect of one day having grandchildren.”
“So, good news for us?” I curled up at his side.
He placed an arm around my shoulders. “Good news for every student who suffered under the tyranny of Elizabeth Liddell.”
The next morning at breakfast, I lowered myself onto Orlando’s lap and gave him a long kiss on the lips. Cheers and wolf-whistles filled the dining room. Miss Harper, the Home Economics teacher, stepped down from the head table to break us apart.
“Is this about the old man?” Orlando grinned, his eyes sparkling.
I plonked myself onto the chair and winked at Gideon, who sat up in his seat, looking scandalized with pursed lips. He and I both knew how naughty he was under that veneer of sophistication. “Mr. Burgh told me last night your grandfather offered to help the parents sue the academy for negligence.”
Gideon leaned forward. “How so?”
It looked like Maxwell and Kendrick already heard the news, so I told Gideon everything Mr. Burgh had told me. Gideon’s face stilled. “It’s wonderful news, but I’m sorry you have such an intolerant grandfather.”
Orlando rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “I won’t repeat what he said when I got suspended, but the old bastard is obsessed with continuing the family line.”
Kendrick narrowed his eyes, glancing from Gideon to me to Orlando. Annoyance and confusion warred on his features. He looked like he was about to ask Gideon why he’d poke holes at such a generous windfall but then flinched. Either Maxwell or Orlando must have kicked him under the table. Kendrick’s eyes widened with realization and he returned to his porridge without a word.
“That’s one worry off our backs.” I leaned forward and told the boys that the archbishop offered Mr. Burgh his job back in exchange for him dropping the proceedings against the Liddells for defamation.
“What has he decided?” Gideon asked, his brows drawn into a frown.
I glanced at Mr. Burgh’s empty spot at the head table and exhaled a long sigh. “He didn’t say.”
“It’s going to be a hard decision.” Maxwell squeezed my hand. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
I sat back in my seat and thought through my options. Apart from their money and connections, the Liddells’ best resource was information. It didn’t matter if it was true, like all the crap Elizabeth dredged up about Mother, or false, such as the counterfeit DNA test. They always seemed to have the right card to pull out in times of trouble.
Maxwell leaned
into me, his silver eyes twinkling. “You’re thinking of something.”
“Actually, you thought of it first.” I glanced from left to right to check who might be lurking nearby. The students at the next table seemed half asleep and more interested in buttering their toast than in eavesdropping. “Remember your big plan with the DNA? I forgot to tell you that I have two more samples in my pocket.”
His face blanked. “Whose?” Then his eyes bulged. “No.”
“Both of them.”
“Father Neapolitan and?” asked Gideon.
“The archbishop’s.” I turned back to Maxwell. “We’re going to put it into action today.”
He stared off into space and nodded. “Leave it with me.”
Loud whispers spread across the dining room, and everyone turned in the direction of the double doors. I glanced over my shoulder to find Elizabeth walking in with dragging footsteps, looking like she had an invisible cattle prod at her back.
“What now?” Gideon said with a groan.
She stood with her legs apart and her hands clasped at her belly. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “This will be interesting.”
“I am apologizing for statements I made to the media which were later proven to be false.”
I cupped my hand behind my ear. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Sorry,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Statements that were later proven to be false,” I snarled. “Don’t act like you’re saying sorry for making the wrong weather prediction. You knew exactly what you were saying when on national TV.”
Elizabeth stuck her nose in the air. “If you cannot accept an apology with grace then you must be inbred.”
Adrenaline surged through my system, making my hands curl into fists. This was the crap apology they wanted Mr. Burgh to accept? She just accused him again of being my father. Before I could rear up and shove my napkin down her mouth, Maxwell wrapped an arm around my wrist and held me in place.