by Sofia Daniel
A laugh snorted from deep within my belly at the sight of Sammy getting the shit kicked out of him by Kendrick, and Billy Hancock holding the kennel door because he was as weak as shit.
Tipping my head to the overcast sky, I exhaled a long stream of condensation, letting it scatter into the cold breeze. There was no way Lady Liddell would let me live after the archbishop’s admission.
If my life was a Disney movie, I’d be Esmerelda, Elizabeth would be that horny priest, and her mother would be Quasimodo. I tilted my head to the side. That wasn’t right. Quasimodo was good. Maybe I could make a mashup where Maleficent bleached her hair and sided with Frollo to attack Esmerelda.
A door around the corner slammed shut, and two sets of heavy footsteps trampled on the frost-covered gravel.
“Your Grace,” said a whining voice that raked down my nerves like rodents’ claws. “You and I know I didn’t father that child.”
A breath caught in the back of my throat. Father Neapolitan and the archbishop, talking about me?
“Thomas,” the archbishop replied in a weary voice. “All signs point to you fathering the young woman. You as much as admitted to me that you and Miss Burgh—”
“That was consensual,” said Father Neapolitan
“Then congratulations,” the older man drawled. “It’s a girl.”
“But…” The younger man spluttered. “She’s as much of a whore as her mother.”
The archbishop chuckled. “Sour grapes?”
“Of course, not.”
I imagined right now a red flush crawling over Father Neapolitan’s face. “One cannot associate oneself with such a wanton creature. It was only months ago that the police dragged her out of bed naked with the Deloraine boys.”
My nostrils flared, and I clenched my teeth. Whatever happened to thou shalt not bear false witness? Probably the thing he did with thou shalt not covet—he shoved the it right up his ass, deciding he was above the commandments he preached every week.
“Perhaps it’s time to reach out to the young woman and offer her guidance,” the archbishop said, without correcting him that I hadn’t participated in a spit roast with the twins. “She hasn’t had the best of parental role models.”
The scent of tobacco reached my nostrils. It was that deep, aromatic mix of cedar and spice that reminded me of the cigars Billy Hancock smoked whenever he wanted to impress company. I crept around the flowerbed to find the archbishop in a black overcoat, smoking a cigarillo. Father Neapolitan wrapped an arm around his middle, sucking on a regular cigarette. He turned his gaze in my direction, and our eyes met.
A bolt of alarm shot through my gut, and I jogged around the building, not quite ready for a confrontation with that rapist and his friend without backup. My surroundings disappeared into a blur of white streaks and clomping footsteps, with the cold wind slicing over my skin.
By the time I reached the double doors and staggered up the stairs, only the pounding of my heart filled my ears. I glanced down the driveway to find it empty.
“Shit, that was close,” I muttered.
A bell rang through the academy’s wood-paneled reception area, indicating that it was ten o’clock—the time Mr. Burgh was supposed to meet the Board of Governors. Wishing my grandfather good luck and hoping he’d brought a solicitor, I jogged through the hallway toward the fire exit and pulled a pack of tissues from my blazer.
Two butts lay on the frosty ground. One cigarette and one cigarillo. After wrapping them both in their individual tissues, I slipped them into my pocket and made my way back to class. Maxwell would probably find them useful, and I needed Father Neapolitan’s DNA for reasons of my own.
As I headed back through the hallway, toward the main entrance, Orlando snuck up from behind and snaked an arm around my waist.
“Are you stalking me?” I asked with a smirk.
“I knew you had a free period and wanted to find out how it went with the governors.” He steered me through the crowds of students dashing toward their next classes and toward the end of the building farthest away from the boardroom.
Out of paranoia, I glanced over my shoulder. There was little chance of me running into Father Neapolitan or any of the school governors when they were so eager to meet with Mr. Burgh, but I still felt jumpy from getting caught by Father Neapolitan.
Eventually, the students disappeared into their classroom and up the stairs, leaving me strolling the hallway with Orlando.
“So?” He drew out the syllable.
I raised a shoulder. “Lady Liddell ended up looking like a twat, to be honest.”
Orlando wrapped a thick scarf around my neck and opened the door, letting out a blast of cold air. I was still pretty warm from running, and the scarf kept me toasty.
We walked hand-in-hand through the academy’s back gardens. At this time of the year, frost covered the low, geometric hedges that enclosed the flowerbeds, and the climbing roses that sprawled over the wooden pyramids now looked like the dying flower from Beauty and the Beast.
As we continued along the line of trees that bordered one side of the gardens, I told him how her attempt to frame me as a child of incest resulted in the archbishop acknowledging that I was a Liddell.
He frowned. “Not quite.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nobody except those closest to Elizabeth know Father Neapolitan’s connection with the family,” he said.
“Shit, that’s right.” Strangely, a weight lifted from my chest. If Lady Liddell believed I wasn’t aware that the priest was the bastard son of the previous laird, she might not go to the effort of protecting her daughter’s birthright with my death.
“I heard you got pretty close to Ken over the weekend,” he said.
My eyes narrowed, and I stared up into his face. The overcast day made his blond hair appear a rich caramel instead of the usual blond. He stared ahead, but his hazel eyes rotated to the side, seeming to study my reaction.
“What did you hear?” I asked.
“He didn’t say anything directly,” Orlando said in a voice that sounded like he was fishing for information. “But you know what he’s like.”
My lips curled into a smile. A gust of wind rustled the trees overhead, and I turned my gaze from Orlando and back to the path. It swept down toward the high hedge that led to the surrounding fields. Kendrick didn’t seem the type who would dish out the dirty details to his friends.
I gave his warm hand a gentle squeeze. “Then what makes you think something happened between us?”
“First of all, he no longer mutters about you under his breath.” Orlando stopped at a wooden bench, released my hand and pulled me closer into his body. “Secondly, did you see that testosterone match he had with Adewale?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Does he know Gideon isn’t interested in me in that way?”
Orlando shook his head and chuckled. “We’re waiting for Ken to work that out on his own.”
“Oh, dear.” I bit down on my lip. It wasn’t like any of the knights could run Gideon off, but I didn’t want my best friend suffering because Kendrick thought he was a rival. “Maybe I should say something.”
“Has Adewale come out of the closet?” Orlando asked.
I clutched at my head. It wasn’t my bloody secret to tell, was it? “Shit. I should stop meddling while I’m ahead.”
Orlando’s hand around my waist wandered down to my ass. He drew close enough for a kiss but ended up brushing his cheek against mine. “Let them work it out on their own.”
I placed both hands on his hard chest. His woolen waistcoat and blazer were too thick to work out if his heart was beating fast. Given the amount of times we’d kissed and how he’d once pleasured me with his tongue, this wasn’t one of those will-he-or-won’t-he situations. Even though I hadn’t said the words, Orlando was my boyfriend.
“Do we have to be on a dance floor before I can touch you?” he murmured into my ear.
“That hasn’t sto
pped you before.” We stood so close that the heat between our bodies became a furnace. Heat surged between my legs, and I felt the ghost of something long and substantial surged against my belly.
“True.” Orlando wrapped his arms around my lower back, pulling us even closer, confirming that he was fully erect, and he met my gaze with a pair of concerned, hazel eyes. “I know you like the twins.”
My gaze dropped to Orlando’s wide and full and curving lips. My own lips tingled with the need to be kissed. “So?”
“Are you planning on just dating them?”
I sucked in a deep breath as understanding trickled through my skull. He wanted to know if he and I had a chance. “The twins are stunning,” I said as I cupped his cheek. “But you’re the fun one who I always liked best.”
His brows drew together. “So, I’m the friend? Like Adewale?”
I shook my head. “If this was a meal, the twins would be the first and second courses, and you’d be the decadent, chocolate pudding.”
“Hopefully with a thick dollop of cream.” He leaned down and descended his lips on mine.
The touch brought sparks of pleasure racing to every erogenous zone in my body. My nipples tightened, my core clenched, and my heart fluttered in my chest on dragonfly wings. What was it about Orlando and his kisses?
It was his lips, for a start. They were built for pleasure, as was the tongue that caressed mine with deep strokes that slickened my folds and turned my insides into a furnace of want. With a moan, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him in place.
I never, ever wanted this kiss to end.
“How typical,” a haughty voice drawled. “She’s like a cat in heat, surrounded by toms.”
A jolt of surprise shot through my chest, and we both jumped apart. Lady Liddell and Elizabeth stood shoulder-to-shoulder, like a before and after cautionary tale about plastic surgery. The clickbait ones where the author posted an image of the film star in their youth next to a fifty-year-old version of themselves after too many fillers. The ones that prompted everyone to say in the comments they looked better before the surgery and ask why they didn’t just grow old gracefully.
I placed both hands on my hips. “It’s strange to see the so-called chairwoman turfed out of her own lynch mob.”
Elizabeth tossed her head and sniffed. “The headmaster brought a solicitor. Everyone knows if you bring a lawyer to an informal meeting that they’re guilty.”
“No,” I said nice and slow because I was clearly explaining the concept to an idiot. “It’s just good sense to have a lawyer present to make sure the other party plays fair.”
“You would know about legal troubles,” she snapped
“Don’t worry.” I tossed her a tight smile. “You’ll get yours soon enough.”
Her eyes flashed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who—”
“Elizabeth.” Lady Liddell’s sharp voice cut through her daughter’s rant. “Giving such a vulgar slattern your attention only drags you down to her level.”
I turned to the older woman, whose eyes were narrowed so close that her false lashes looked like they’d been scrawled on her face with a marker pen. “Funny you should say that, considering you cast the first insult.”
“Lady Liddell.” Orlando stepped forward, blocking my view of the loathsome pair. “Please accept my apologies if my grandfather’s refusal of your daughter caused offense. I fear that your raising of Elizabeth has brought out your more odious qualities.”
“You rejected my daughter for that whore?” Lady Liddell said in a voice sharp enough to cut throats.
He snorted. “You seem to be mistaken in the definition of a whore. A beautiful young lady who enjoys the company of a gentleman is delightful. On the other hand, a home economics teacher who married for money is—”
“That is enough!” Lady Liddell stamped her foot. “I will be having words with your grandfather.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you the same,” Orlando drawled.
I poked my head out from behind Orlando and smirked at her blotchy face. Elizabeth stood beside her mother with her fists clenched, her hands balled into fists, and her chest heaving up and down with the beginnings of a tantrum. She’d have to get used to the defection of her former knights.
Lady Liddell smoothed down her jacket and raised her nose in the air. “I would like a word with Miss Hancock.”
I gave her a slow nod, a Richley glance up and down, and a disapproving twist of my lips to let her know that what I just checked out was lacking. “Once you’ve been found guilty in a court of law, I’ll be happy to visit you in prison.”
“Foolish girl.” Lady Liddell shook her head. “A worthless, stupid slut just like your mother.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why did you cover up for Father Neapolitan when he raped her?”
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open, and she cast her mother a furtive glance.
Confusion rippled through my insides. I thought Elizabeth knew all about the priest being my father, which had caused her to go mental in my bedroom and rant about Esau. I smoothed out my expression into a mask of indifference.
Lady Liddell adjusted her collar and glanced down the path in the direction of the tall hedge. “Abigail Burgh was a very disturbed girl.”
I advanced on the woman with my hands balled into fists. “She was a victim who came to you for help, but you covered it up and helped tarnish her reputation. I wouldn’t be surprised if you planted the stolen heirloom on her so she could get arrested.”
“Don’t be preposterous,” she said with a fake laugh.
“You’re great at covering things up, aren’t you?” I snarled.
Lady Liddell grabbed her daughter by the wrist. “The sooner we rid ourselves of your wretched grandfather, the sooner you can return to your drug den.”
They stormed down the path in a furious half-run, and through the gap in the tall hedge. I stared after them, wondering what it meant that Lady Liddell had been cast out of her own Board of Governors hearing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A cold breeze rustled through the trees overhead, blowing dead leaves across the academy gardens. I turned away from the blast toward Orlando, my insides fluttering with excitement. Lady Liddell wouldn’t have been in such a shitty mood if things were going well for her.
“We’ve got to go to the boardroom,” I said.
He nodded and wrapped his warm fingers around mine. “Mr. Burgh’s lawyers must have something over the old battle ax.”
We jogged along the path with the wind at our backs, and up the stairs that led to the door closest to the boardroom. For the first time since the shooting, I felt a surge of hope. Hope that Mr. Burgh and his lawyers could navigate a way out of the Liddells’ labyrinth of lies.
When we reached the boardroom, the door was still closed, and the hallway an empty passage of wood-paneled walls. I pressed my ear against the door to hear raised voices.
“What are they saying?” asked Orlando.
“Something about class A drugs,” I whispered.
The squeak of an ungreased wheel filled the hallway. I turned to find one of the servers from the dining hall pushing a metal trolley laden with sandwiches, a box of shortbread, and insulated carafes.
Orlando stepped back, running his fingers through his blond curls. “Let’s catch up with Mr. Burgh later. If they’re bringing more refreshment, then the meeting will probably continue at least another hour.”
I backed away from the room, letting the woman approach. She opened the door to the sound of one of the governors pounding the table with his fist. Everyone fell silent as the woman wheeled in the trolley, and some of the people around the table leaned forward.
Father Neapolitan stood with his back against the wall behind the archbishop with his arms wrapped around his chest. The man breathed so hard that his upper body bowed forward with every exhale, and he looked like he was about to be sick. His gaze caught mine, and he stiffened. This time, I sta
red into those hateful eyes and snarled.
Before I could see who else was in the room, the door swung shut behind the server.
“Lilah?” Orlando placed a hand on my arm.
“Hold on a minute,” I said with my gaze fixed on the boardroom. ‘I want to see what else is happening when she opens the door to leave.”
“Whatever they’re discussing, it looks pretty heavy,” Orlando muttered. “The lawyers Mr. Burgh brought with him must be really important if they’re making people give up their seats.”
Moments later, the door opened again, and the server emerged with a pile of used cups and empty plates. This time, I turned my gaze from the far end of the table, where the archbishop sat with two of the governors from earlier, down to the other end, where Mr. Burgh sat with four newcomers in sharp suits.
“Wow,” I muttered. “He doesn’t mess around.”
Orlando wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me to the school’s tuck shop, where a pair of second-year boys manned a complicated-looking, chrome cappuccino maker. Lunch was about an hour away, so we took a squishy sofa closest to the counter and ordered coffee.
He squeezed my hand and smiled. “It’s good news that Mr. Burgh is approaching the Liddells from a position of strength. Most people who go against them are completely unprepared.”
I took a sip of the hot drink. As cappuccinos went, this one was milder than Starbucks with loads more chocolate sprinkles. “I suppose that’s the way to deal with bullies. Hit hard, hit fast, and hit them where it hurts.”
Orlando grunted his agreement. “I can’t believe I used to consider myself an ally of the Liddells.”
“Couldn’t you see they were complete bastards?” I asked.
He set down his mug and grimaced. “This is no excuse for the shitty things I’ve done, but when I was growing up, I believed people's money or titles made them better than others.”
“If all the old money types met the person up their family tree who built their fortunes, I’d bet they’d shit themselves out of shock.”
