Page 20 of Revenge

Excitement jolted through my chest. If I acted clueless, he might reveal something I could give Jackie. “What’s wrong with Nadia?”

His brows furrowed. “If that’s your idea of a nice girl, I seriously doubt your judgment.”

“Because she’s from Russia?”

He reared back. “Of course not. I wouldn’t be so prejudiced.”

“How do you explain all those Yank taunts you made last year?”

Edward’s expression froze. In his little bout of self-aggrandizement, he’d forgotten how everyone had used my nationality as a slur. A wave of genuine anger crashed through my veins as I remembered looking into the mirror and finding words scrawled on my face in blue permanent marker. Then the shower of red dye that had broken my spirit. Even if he hadn’t meant to be xenophobic in his warning about International House, I still despised the way he had treated me the previous term.

“How can you say you’re not prejudiced when you bullied Rita,” I spat. “She isn’t what you’d call an English rose.”

“Because she was a scholarship student,” he replied in a tone that implied it was reasonable to victimized someone for being awarded a place on merit.

My nostrils flared. Did he think I was some kind of idiot? “I’ve met the other scholarship students, and none of them mentioned being bullied. What made Rita a target when the others weren’t?”

He jerked his head away. “You’re coming to the wrong conclusions on purpose.”

“Don’t gaslight me.” I tossed my head with as much indignation as I could muster. I’d meant what I had said about him singling Rita and me out for bullying. We were outsiders, and he was a bigot. “You dislike the students of International House because they’re not British.”

I stormed off back toward Elder House, hoping he would chase after me and explain the reasons for his warnings, but I didn’t hold out hope. Edward had one of those patient, calculating personalities. I would have to work on him a little more before finding out why such strange people occupied International House.

* * *

Days later, Henry leaned into my side in English Lit. “I haven’t seen you alone in ages.”

I pursed my lips. Whose fault was that? After the kidnapping, I had wanted to continue things as we’d left off, but he had kept a distance romantically, waiting for the opportunity to present itself to share me with his friends. As much as I wanted to spit that, and a few other choice words, into his face, I shrugged. “I’ve been trying to get my grades up.”

“Don’t you have the rest of the afternoon free? There’s a French restaurant in the village. We could go there for an early dinner. Or I could get a car to take us to London. Then you’d be able to do whatever you like.”

My eyes narrowed. Was the London trip a ploy on the part of these manipulative fucks to break up my pretend relationship with Sergei? He’d probably want to take me somewhere prominent, so the paparazzi could take pictures of Sergei’s supposed fiancé on the arm of the Bourneville heir.

I placed my hand on his. “The French restaurant sounds lovely.”

Henry was about to say something when Miss Oakley gave him a demerit for talking in class. He clammed up and turned his attention to the old lady. I rested my chin on my hand and listened to the rest of the lecture. I couldn’t wait to gather information on him to share with Jackie. Of all the triumvirate, he had hurt me the most.

* * *

The car stopped on the same stretch of road as the phone box we’d used to call for help after our supposed kidnapping. A pang of sadness hit me as I spotted the red structure. At the time, I had been so relieved to have my freedom, but it also reminded me that the kidnappers had injected me with a drug. Several times.

“Here it is.” Henry placed a hand on the small of my back and led me to a store with darkened windows. He opened the door, letting out a waft of garlic-and-rosemary-scented air, and we stepped inside. “You’ll love this place.”

I gazed around the restaurant, eyes wide. The exposed brick walls, wooden beams, and baskets hanging on the walls gave it a homey, rustic feel, and I couldn’t wait to try out the food. “It’s so beautiful. Why are we here alone? Blake and Edward would adore this place.”

The side of his lips quirked into the kind of smile that used to make my heart melt. Now it made my heart twist with sadness. The triumvirate had probably practiced all their facial expressions on girls over the years. How else could they attract so many hangers-on even when they showed them little interest?

“Jean-Paul and Françoise have been surrogate parents for the three of us. This is the perfect place to start our reconciliation.” He guided me to a table close to the kitchens. “Nothing can be right between us until I fix things.”

An elderly couple rushed out and both wrapped their arms around Henry.

“Henri,” cried the woman. “Je suis heureuse de te voir! Comment ça va?”

He gave them a crooked smile. “Bien, merci. Êtes-vous?”

I shuffled my feet as the conversation in French continued, until the old lady gave me the widest grin and asked, “Et ta nouvelle fille?”

Henry straightened. “Jean-Paul, Françoise, may I present Emilia Hobson.”