Kings of Mercia Academy 1-4: The Complete Bully Romance

by Sofia Daniel

  “Two sets of people are supplying him with photos,” I gasped out. “The Correspondent, and someone with access to the academy.”

  “What the fuck?” Henry grabbed handfuls of photos and stuffed them in the bag.

  Shaking off my speculations, I filled Henry’s bag with photo after incriminating photo of myself and the triumvirate. Even if it was evidence vital to a case against Mr. Carbuncle, I didn’t want pictures like that of me circulated anywhere.

  The other drawers contained old clothes, worn shoes, and faded porn magazines of women with 1980’s bouffants.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!

  My heart jumped into my throat. It was Mr. Carbuncle!

  “This way!” Henry yanked me up the stairs. At the top, he grabbed Blake and ushered us to the kitchen at the back of the house.

  Blake pulled out his credit card and tried the back door. He couldn’t wedge it open. “F-fuck!”

  “Mum?” Mr. Carbuncle shouted through the letterbox. “You in the toilet?”

  Henry kicked aside the doormat and found a key. Blake swooped down and picked it up.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!

  Each knock on the front door reverberated through my bones and chilled me to the marrow. “Hurry!”

  Mr. Carbuncle groaned. “Don’t make me have to go back to the car to get my keys!”

  Blake unlocked the door. I shoved it open and let in the fresh air. The overgrown lawn stretched a hundred feet to a row of spruce trees that formed a green barrier. Heart ticking like a bomb about to detonate, I sprinted between Henry and Blake through knee-length grass to the end, where we fought our way through the trees’ dense, pine-scented foliage. Behind them stood an ivy-covered brick wall even taller than Henry.

  Blake scrambled up its front and sat on top. He leaned down and stretched out his arm. “Come on.”

  I grabbed his hand, and Henry hoisted me up. Within seconds, I was up and over the brick wall and landing on the other side in a crouch. Henry’s bag fell at my feet, followed by Henry, and we raced down the street.

  “Where did we park the car?” asked Blake.

  “This way!” I pointed toward the main road.

  As Blake drove back through the country roads, and my heart stopped feeling like it was about to explode, a realization slapped me in the back of my head. There were three of us this time. “We might have been able to overpower Mr. Carbuncle and force a confession out of him.”

  “No way,” they both said at the same time.

  “Why?” I picked a spruce needle out of my hair.

  “If I caught a pair of scoundrels in my mother’s house with her missing, I would kill them,” said Henry. “He would have had rage on his side or used you as leverage.”

  “I suppose so.” My gaze drifted into the distance. The setting sun cast an orange haze over the horizon, reflecting its golden light off the fields and trees. That had been so close.

  “After seeing those photos, I don’t want him within ten miles of you.”

  “What photos?” asked Blake.

  “They’re in the bag,” I muttered. “Let’s not touch anything until we have a fire going at Edward’s.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse.”

  Blake took the long way back to Mercia Academy in case Mr. Carbuncle decided to get into his pickup truck and drive around the village and surrounding roads to find his mother. By the time we arrived, the campus was deserted, as it was dinner time. We reached Edward’s study, but he wasn’t there.

  “He’s probably still charming old Mrs. Carbuncle.” Blake strode to the mantlepiece and placed dried logs in the fireplace. “What do you want to do with those pictures? Burn them or take a look?”

  I stared at the bag. “After seeing the first few pictures, I’m not sure I want to see the rest.”

  Henry sat on the Chesterfield sofa. “We need to know if they’re camera stills provided by someone at the Correspondent—”

  “From Philippe.” Blake added tinder to the logs and lit a match.

  Lowering myself on the leather seat next to Henry, I turned to the window and stared out into the courtyard. “Or if someone’s been sneaking around taking photos with their camera or smartphone.”

  “How are we going to tell the difference?” asked Henry.

  “The angles,” I said. “And those pictures printed in the Correspondent were a little grainy.”

  “So were the pictures of us from the Valentine’s party.”

  My shoulders sagged. I wish I hadn’t helped with that stupid, fucking party. If I hadn’t been so blinded by destroying the triumvirate in my second term, none of this would have happened. Not only had I ruined Henry and Blake’s standings with their families, but my acts of revenge also would never stop backfiring. And now I was the star of Mr. Carbuncle’s newest stash of porn.

  “Don’t look so guilty,” said Henry. “I’m not dwelling on it, and neither should you.”

  Blake pressed a kiss on my temple. “Mr. Bourneville would have found a reason to disinherit Henry regardless of whether those pictures had come out or not.”

  The door opened, and Edward stepped in, still clad in his navy blazer and dark slacks. I would have admired his handsome, brooding looks and the way his mahogany hair framed his aristocratic features if those terrible pictures weren’t still fresh in my mind.

  His gaze turned to the lit fireplace. “Isn’t it a bit warm for a fire?”

  Henry held out the bag. “Carbuncle arrived to visit his mother, but we managed to snatch some damning evidence before we escaped.”

  Edward took the proffered bag and pulled out a photo. His eyes widened. “Good Lord.”

  My spine curled toward my knees, and I stared at my lap. Was it worse than the pictures of me I’d seen? “Are they camera stills?”

  “This one looks like it was definitely taken from over there.” Edward pointed at the window.

  A lead boulder of dread rolled in my stomach. I’d hoped my initial assessment of the photos had been wrong. Because the implications were unthinkable.

  I whispered, “He must have been peeping at us.”

  “Or it could have been Charlotte,” said Blake.

  “Never underestimate the depth of that girl’s malice.” Edward placed the picture in the bag and picked out another. “Or her depravity.”

  Curiosity built in my chest, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Let me see.”

  Edward sat beside me on the Chesterfield, sandwiching me between himself and Henry. Blake stood over us, his dark brows furrowed into a frown. Most of the photos Edward pulled out had come from someone standing behind the window and taking advantage of the gap in the curtain. But there were a few of me crouching on the ground surrounded by students. Someone pulled up my skirt, exposing my panties, while others punched and kicked and pulled my hair. I swallowed hard. The gauntlet.

  “The IT people were supposed to delete those from the servers,” said Edward.

  “Someone must have downloaded them before that,” added Henry.

  “Or Charlotte took them herself.”

  I shook my head. “She was on the other side of the crowd, waiting for me outside with her little gang.”

  Henry wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his warmth. “Nothing like that will happen to you again as long as we’re around.”

  Blake plucked the photos out of my fingers. “You shouldn’t look at these. And we’re not handing them to the police.”

  “Those incompetent buffoons?” Edward patted my thigh. “Absolutely not.” Then he stood. “The fire is ready. I’ll burn these and keep anything that might prove useful.”

  “What will we do next?” I croaked.

  “Step one of our plan is complete. We have Mrs. Carbuncle in our grasp, and she has no means of contacting her son.”

  Blake huffed a laugh. “By now, he’ll be frantic with worry about his mother. Let’s give him a day to stew, then we’ll tell him to surrender to the ne
arest police station and make him confess to being employed by Philippe and Rudolph to abduct and assault you.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Is Mrs. Carbuncle alright?”

  Edward threw another photo onto the fire. “I walked her to the kitchens, where Reginald served her a meal of pan-fried trout with a glass of Pinot Gris. She was most charmed by his gentlemanly ways.”

  A long breath slid from my lungs. The old woman was probably having the time of her life and didn’t even know her son would think she was abducted.

  “I hope this works because it could backfire very painfully.”

  Chapter 16

  The next day in English Literature, I could barely concentrate on Miss Oakley’s lecture on The Scarlet Letter. Last night’s adventure preyed on my mind, and those compromising photos made the pancakes and maple syrup I’d had for breakfast churn in my stomach.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Blake and Henry, who sat together at the pair of desks behind us. How had they felt when the photos of them together had reached their parents? Powerless, angry, violated? I had hurt them. Exposed their secret to the entire country. Yet they had still forgiven me.

  My shoulders slumped, and I doodled on a sheet of paper. I wasn’t sure I could forgive whoever had sent those pictures to Mr. Carbuncle.

  Edward’s phone beeped and broke me out of my reverie.

  Miss Oakley stopped talking and glowered around the room. “How many times must I inform you that telephones are not permitted in the classrooms?”

  At the other side of the room, Coates shot up his hand. “Miss, the sound came from Bourneville’s direction.”

  I rolled my eyes and leaned into Edward. “Isn’t it enough that he took Henry’s place as the rugby captain? Now, he wants to get him into trouble?”

  “He really is the most pathetic creature.”

  Holding onto the lapels of her black professor’s cloak, Miss Oakley strode to our side of the room, her face a mask of determination. She stopped at Henry’s desk and held out her palm. “Hand it over.”

  Henry tilted his head to the side. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your phone,” she snapped.

  He tapped his blazer pockets. “I left it in my room today.”

  Blake leaned forward and flashed her a dazzling grin. “Should I remind him to bring it to the next class?”

  Miss Oakley’s cheeks pinked. “Of course not.” She glanced around. “The next person whose forbidden phone interrupts my lecture will have it confiscated.”

  As she ambled back to her desk, Edward pulled out his phone, held it under the table, and glanced at the screen. His eyes widened, and the tiniest of smiles curved his lips.

  I couldn’t see his screen from that angle, so whispered, “What’s happened?”

  “I set off a google alert for Philippe’s name.” He tapped the screen. “Philippe de Connasse was arrested last night on suspicion of abduction.”

  A thrill of triumph surged through my insides and exploded like a Roman skyrocket. “Where was it reported?”

  “The Saturday Correspondent’s website.”

  My jaw dropped. “Why would Jackie put something like that in the paper?”

  “It’s actually a report on police brutality. They used excessive physical force when apprehending Philippe in their offices.”

  “Good.” I leaned back in my seat and raised my head to feign attention to Miss Oakley’s lecture.

  Jackie, the Saturday Correspondent’s editor-in-chief, had asked me last term to uncover the identity of Charlotte’s benefactor. But I had been too angry with her and Rudolph to do the paper any favors. What if she had been trying to warn me all this time that Rudolph was planning something too nefarious for her to stomach? I shook off those thoughts. If Jackie had been serious about warning me, she would have sent me more apparent clues.

  The bell sounded, and Edward walked me to my next class, Creative Writing, which was located on the top floor in one of the classrooms by the atrium, a beautiful glass dome that opened up a shaft of sunlight that spread across the mezzanine and down to the ground floor.

  As we strolled down the hallway toward the marble staircase, Edward placed a hand on the small of my back. “Have you and Henry resolved your differences yet?”

  I paused. So much had happened since Henry and I had discussed the events of the first term—the argument with Aunt Idette and Mr. Bourneville, visiting Peter Underwood in Brixton Prison, and the theft of Mrs. Carbuncle and subsequent raid on her house—it was hard to remember that we had spent time together mere days ago.

  “Yes,” I said. “We kissed and made up.”

  His brows drew together. “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I am…”

  It took a while to put the words together. The kidnapping incident was in the past. I’d resented him the most because he was the only member of the triumvirate I’d fallen for before the betrayal. He hadn’t redeemed himself in my second term due to the pact he had made with his friends and accomplices. Something else still niggled.

  “Have you met Mr. Bourneville?” I asked.

  “I have.” Edward’s tone was biting.

  “He’s a bully.”

  “I concur.”

  “Why can’t Henry stand up to him? Last term, you three defended yourselves against homophobic attacks and slurs, but he didn’t argue back against his father and aunt’s accusations.”

  As we ascended the first flight of marble stairs, I told him my theory about his Aunt Idette, and how she had probably poisoned Mr. Bourneville’s mind.

  Sunlight streamed in through narrow windows and gave the ends of Edward’s mahogany hair a fiery, paprika glow. He shook his head. “I’ll have to show you pictures of Henry before his growth spurt. He was one of the smallest boys in the year even up until the third year. I think his father’s disapproval stems from that.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately, I am.”

  “But Henry’s bigger than him, now.”

  Edward shrugged as we reached the second-floor landing. “Mr. Bourneville is set in his ways. But I think the disinheritance might be good for Henry. It’s one less threat the old man can hang over his head.”

  The thought of that toxic pair berating Henry sent a flash of irritation across my skin. “I don’t understand why he didn’t just tell him to fuck off.”

  “Henry tends to be more protective over his friends than over himself.” Edward’s voice was grave. It made me wonder if he’d had this conversation with Blake. “Perhaps if Mr. Bourneville threatened his friendship with one of us, Henry would speak up.”

  I nodded. Henry wasn’t the type to abandon a friend in peril.

  Edward hummed, and we continued up the stairs. By now, most of the younger students had disappeared into their classrooms. A few stragglers who had likely come from other blocks dashed up the stairs, but since Edward’s Economics class was also located on the top floor, we took our time.

  “When will we contact Mr. Carbuncle?” I whispered.

  “Let him stew for the rest of the morning.” Edward held the door open that led to the atrium. “We can send a message from Charlotte’s phone this evening, telling him we have urgent news about his mother and to meet us at the usual place.”

  “Does Mrs. Carbuncle have a cellphone?” I stepped through the door and squinted against the glare of the sun.

  “Just the landline.” We continued around the curved hallway of the atrium level until we reached the door to my classroom. He gave me a peck on the cheek. “I need to speak to Mr. Williams after Economics. Wait for me here until I come to collect you.”

  Perhaps the incident with campus security and their dogs had spooked Mr. Carbuncle. He didn’t reply to the text Edward sent from Charlotte’s phone. Henry and Blake stayed up to stake out the caretaker’s lodge, while Edward and I went to bed at ten because we had to wake up early for the academy’s sports day.

  Edward’s kisses on my neck woke me fr
om a pleasant dream of wrapping my lips around Henry’s length and teasing him awake while Blake pounded into me from behind. As I untangled myself from under Henry’s muscular arm, Edward shuffled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. He wrapped a towel around his hips, obscuring my view of his muscular ass.

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven, I’m afraid.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Dr. Asgard’s people will arrive at the lawn in a moment.”

  I swung my legs off the bed and cast Henry and Blake a wistful look. Blake curled himself around Henry’s left side and let out a contented sigh. At the sound of water running in the shower, I turned around and headed to the bathroom to get ready for sports day. Hopefully, we would have time to relax when Edward had fulfilled his duty at the blood donation booth.

  After a quick shower, we dressed and left Elder House. Henry and Blake were still sleeping, although I suspected Blake was pretending so as not to be roped into volunteering for sports day.

  The sun shone across the campus as we walked hand-in-hand across the great lawn, and a lemon-scented breeze blew in from the magnolia trees on our left. Dozens of people gathered on the lawn, setting up stalls and their canopies, and even a huge marquee.

  Some members of the Board of Governors stood around a large, red-and-white trailer emblazoned with the logo of the National Health Service. I was about to comment on the size of the vehicle when I spotted a short figure chatting with Mr. Weaver and Lady Seagrove.

  My lip curled. “What’s Charlotte doing here?”

  Squeezing my hand, Edward blew out a breath. “Despite everything, she’s still a prefect. Unfortunately, that means she’s also aware of opportunities to make herself appear less heinous.”

  “I don’t understand why she hasn’t been expelled.”

  “Her name is on the list of girls who made complaints about Carbuncle. She’s also struggling with two incarcerated family members and is currently being ostracized for organizing a school booze cruise that went horrifically wrong. Imagine how it would look if they threw her out in the middle of her A-Levels.”