Page 63 of Cruel Hearts

The bad thing about Lady Liddell’s arrival was the woman herself. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she swept past Mrs. Campbell, not sparing the older woman a second look. Her ivory pants suit clung to a body that looked nipped and tucked and silicone enhanced. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who gave Elizabeth the hangup about her weight.

Up close, Lady Liddell wasn’t that impressive: perfectly coiffed hair, expensive make-up job, and designer clothes, but beneath the blending and shading were rheumy eyes and collagen-enhanced lips that looked like sausages.

I placed my hands on my hips, making sure to sweep my gaze down the ridiculous ensemble. She probably wanted to look like Bianca Jagger on her wedding day, but it was more like an old lady had stolen the white pimp outfit Madonna wore in her Music video.

Wrinkling her delicate nose, she stopped behind the table, keeping it as a barrier. A cautious woman. I expected she planned to throw an umbrella factory’s worth of shade and wanted to avoid a catfight.

“Thank you, Mrs. Cambell.” Lady Liddell turned her head to the side. “That will be all.”

The deputy headmistress pursed her lips and closed the door.

We stared at each other for several moments. Lady Liddell stood a couple of inches taller than me in her designer heels, and I folded my arms across my chest, shuttering my face into an expression of boredom.

“As we speak, my daughter is nursing a black eye and possibly a broken nose,” she said in a posh accent with only the barest trace of Scottish brogue.

I raised my brows, waiting for her to get to the point.

“And you’re possibly facing charges of grievous bodily harm.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Back in Richley, the most I would get for Elizabeth’s nose was assault, which would result in several hours of community service. If the case actually went before a jury and I got a chance to explain that I’d been provoked, they would probably find me innocent.

Lady Liddell pursed her lips, but the action looked strange with all that collagen. “Don’t you have something to say for yourself?”

“You haven’t asked me a question until now.” I drummed my fingertips on my bicep.

She squeezed her eyes shut, looking like a Disney bird with those ridiculously long, black lashes.

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for her to open hers. When she did, a breath caught in the back of my throat. I had seen those eyes up close and behind a visor. “You were the policewoman in the raid.”

Lady Liddell blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Your false eyelashes.” I waved a finger in the vicinity of her face. “At the time, I thought it was strange that a police officer would wear full makeup to a raid, but you couldn’t resist coming along for the ride.”

Lady Liddell didn’t speak.

I leaned forward, locking gazes with the corrupt aristocrat. “Why did you go along with that stupid plan? Elizabeth, I can almost understand. She’s inbred, unhinged, and running an illegal empire of slimming drugs. But why would you support that when you have so much to lose?”

“How dare you—”

“Don’t hide behind false outrage because you got caught. You might have a fancy title, but when word gets out that you went on a police ride-along to harass a seventeen-year-old girl, your reputation will be as dirty as your principles.”

She pointed a manicured finger at me from across the table. “Now, you look here—”

“You look here,” I shouted. “If you wanted to confront me about your daughter’s face, you should have waited for my guardian.”

Lady Liddell bared teeth that looked too white and even to be anything but veneers. “I wouldn’t allow Duncan Burgh to take care of a stray cat, much less a teenaged girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” I placed my hands on my hips. “Then why is he the headmaster of such a prestigious academy?”

She swung her tote bag. “Your precious grandfather has secrets of his own.”

“Not interested.” I shook my head and walked to the window, trying to ignore the doubt seeping through my gut. “As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over.”

“Rude little guttersnipe,” she snapped. “Just like your mother.”

I turned around.

Lady Liddell smirked. “I taught Abigail Burgh Home Economics. Back then, she was an entitled little shit, thinking herself untouchable because her father was the Religious Studies teacher.”