Page 33 of Deposed

After a few laps of ignoring the self-proclaimed Queen of Mercia Academy, Miss Shinty blew her whistle, and we all separated into our teams. Fortunately, Charlotte’s vest was red, meaning I didn’t have to play with her.

The game started off with a member of the blue team, a girl from Hawthorn House, whacking the ball toward me. While another member of my team accelerated toward the goal, I dribbled the ball, waiting for the right moment to pass. Someone stuck a stick between my legs and yanked. Hard. I tripped and fell onto my hands and knees.

“Whoops,” said Charlotte. “You always seem to land in that position. A trollop should be more careful about sticking out her arse.”

Miss Shinty blew her whistle, and growled, “Underwood!”

“Sorry, Miss!” Charlotte ran ahead.

I picked myself up and clenched the stick. The petty little bitch would get a fist in the face if she tried that again. Our team scored, and we continued the game. The girls at Mercia Academy played a little more competitively than we used to at Park Prep, and it had been nearly a year since my last game. Around halfway through the match, another team member passed me the ball again. As I was close enough to the goal, I aimed to score, only to receive a sharp whack across my back.

Pain lightning-bolted across my shoulder blades and I cried out. Memories of being thumped across the back during the gauntlet resurfaced, and I pivoted around and smashed the butt of the hockey stick into my attacker’s face.

Charlotte clutched her nose and howled. Blood poured from the spaces between her fingers.

Miss Shinty blew her whistle. “Five demerits, Hobson. Get out!”

I threw down my stick and stormed out of the hockey field. What a bunch of bitches. Always looking after their own.

By dinner time, the entire dining room was filled with rumors that I had maimed Queen Charlotte, she would need reconstructive surgery on her face, and she’d already instructed a lawyer in Manhattan to sue Rudolph Trommel for millions in damages. Even though it was clearly the mutterings of overexcited doppelgängers, I hoped the last part was true. Rudolph had made a profit by associating with me, and I would welcome any excuse to see him bilked.

Later, the servers produced several baked Alaskas, and everyone sang happy birthday to Edward. My jaw dropped, and I leaned into him and whispered, “That’s the second important thing about you I’ve learned today.”

He grinned. “What’s the first?”

“You’re a Viscount.”

“A courtesy title because it’s one of the titles I’ll day inherit.” He blew on the flaming pavlova placed in front of him, which turned a delicious shade of caramel.

“You could have at least told me it was your birthday.”

“I don’t usually celebrate it.” He reached under the table and squeezed my thigh. “Stay with me tonight. Maybe we can start a new tradition.”

Wendy shot out of her seat at the head table and shrieked, “Charlotte!”

Charlotte hobbled in on crutches and groaned over the students’ chatter. A thick bandage wrapped around her head, and an even thicker brace covered her neck. Giant strips of adhesive tape covered the bridge of her nose from one cheekbone to the other. I pursed my lips. How much of that was fake?

“Why does someone who didn’t even fall need crutches?” I said out loud.

Charlotte raised a crutch in the air for attention. “I have an announcement.”

Henry snorted, and Blake rolled his eyes. “Here we go…”

“I was going to announce this later, but I think now is a better time.” Her voice was oddly clear for someone requiring reconstructive surgery on her face. “I’m holding a party to top all previous attempts. Perhaps that’s why I was so viciously attacked today.”

Grumbles filled the dining room, and I shook my head with disbelief. The girl was utterly shameless.

“Anyway, only the beautiful and the best will be invited, and all elements who have previously subverted the natural order of things will be excluded!”

Male cheers broke out across the room. I was pretty sure she had been referring to the triumvirate, but what on earth did she mean?

Chapter 11

The four of us left the dining room shortly after Charlotte’s announcement to drink cognac from wide-bottomed snifter glasses in Edward’s study. I sat next to Edward on the Chesterfield sofa and sipped from a cup of Irish coffee, made with a sweet, cream liqueur. Blake sat at the armchair on my left, and Henry lounged on Edward’s left. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, creating a lovely warm light to the dimly lit room.

“Another year.” Henry raised his crystal glass.

Blake glanced at me through the corner of his eye. “An interesting one, though.”