Page 51 of Payback

“Henry Bourneville, at your service.” He gave her a gallant bow and kissed her hand.

“Not the Bourneville Bourneville’s from London?”

“The very same,” he said in a deep voice that made my nipples pebble.

Mrs. Carbuncle clapped her hands over her flushed cheeks. “And you say you’re acquaintances with my Ernest?”

Rolling his eyes, Blake placed a huge chunk of strawberry shortcake in his mouth.

“We’ve known him since we were eleven.” Henry nodded his thanks to the server, who placed a butterfly-patterned tea set on the table. “Edward has known your son for longer, as he’s lived on the academy grounds his entire life.”

The old woman’s eyes shone with pride. “He never said, but that’s my Ernest for you. Rubs shoulders with the high class and is never one to boast.”

“Rubbing more than shoulders with the girls, I would say,” drawled Blake.

I gave him a kick under the table. Snickering, Blake poured me a cup of Lady Grey tea from a pot patterned with pink roses and took another bite of his cake.

Mrs. Carbuncle fluttered her eyelashes. “What can a humble lady like myself do for you, young sirs?”

“We’re trying to find him,” said Edward. “Someone fired birdshot at the poor fellow, and we believe he requires urgent medical attention.”

“It’s nice of you boys to worry about Ernest, but he came to me late one night for help. I used my tweezers and fillet knife and a whole bottle of Dettol.”

I set down my teacup and gaped at Blake, who narrowed his eyes and smirked.

“Did you get it all?” asked Henry.

She rubbed the side of her face. “As much as I could. I wanted to do more, but he refused, the stubborn ass.”

The server brought scones, finger sandwiches, and a slice of every cake available in the tea shop.

The old lady’s eyes gleamed. “Which one is mine?”

“We didn’t know what you liked.” Henry raised the milk jug in silent question. When the old woman shook her head, he poured the tea. “Why don’t you take a bite of each?”

Edward raised the bowl of lemon slices, and the old woman gave a vigorous nod.

“I wish those two would stop fucking about and interrogate the old battle-ax,” muttered Blake. “Can’t they tell she’s putting on airs and graces for show?”

“Quiet.” I pushed my chocolate fudge cake to his side of the table.

Blake picked up his fork and cut himself a huge chunk. The corners of my mouth curled into a smile. I didn’t know he could be subdued so easily.

Mrs. Carbuncle raised the cup to her lips with her pinky finger up, while Edward and Henry drank their tea without the pretensions. I chewed on my lip, hoping they would get to the point, but this was a delicate matter. If I was on the run from the police, Mom wouldn’t reveal my location to strangers, even if they were as handsome and as cultured and as well-connected as Edward and Henry.

The old woman raved about the cakes and brought up her recipe for a lemon drizzle pudding. Blake, who had finished my chocolate fudge cake, melted into a stupor of boredom. My own eyes glazed, and I slumped in my seat, marveling through my daze at how the boys remained attentive through Mrs. Carbuncle’s monologue. It was hard to tell if she knew about her son’s crimes or if she believed him to be innocent of all accusations.

“It’s lovely to be out and about,” she said. “The local police have kept me a virtual prisoner.”

Blake and I jolted awake.

“What do you mean?” asked Edward.

“Poor Ernest had a bit of trouble with a nasty American trollop at the school. Apparently, she wanted access to another girl’s room and threw herself at my boy.”

Edward tutted. “How distasteful.”

Henry’s face blanked.