He hugs her back. “And wewon’t, because we’re not like that.” He turns back to the crowd, releasing a slightly flushed Poppy to address them. “Raise your hands if you’ve slept with me since the second week of last term?”
Crickets.
The second week of last term was when we started our tutoring. He can’t really be saying that he’s been… No. I’ve seen him with so many others, and this isLambert. ‘Celibacy’ is not a word in his vocabulary.
The pressing gazes of so many curious women, and the patrons lining up behind them, fluster me.
Is he really saying that he’s not touched anyone? He brought all of these ladies here to confirm it, in this very public display. Did he arrange this because he was upset that I didn’t believe him? Or is he that eager to worm his way into my bed?
Damn him, I am not this fickle, and I am definitelynotflattered.
“All of them signed the Arcanaeum rules, agreeing not to lie to the Librarian.” Lambert’s winning grin turns on me next. “So…”
“I know what you’re doing,” I tell him frankly. “And this can’t change anything.”
I’m impartial. He’s an heir. Those facts haven’t changed. This ridiculous spectacle can’t break my resolve, no matter how much I wish…
“I don’t know what you mean, boss.” He offers me an infuriating wink. “I’m just asserting myself as a gentleman of good moral character.”
Who told him to say that? I bet it was Leo.
There’s no way he came up with that line by himself.
Then, in acoup de grâceI could never have predicted, Lambert draws a small cream box tied with a brown ribbon from behind his back and deposits it onto my desk.
Bribing me again. I don’t think this is a book, and my curiosity is sparked despite myself.
“And this is a present, since Eddy informed me that none of the others got you anything special for Christmas, which was just dumb of them. If you tell us your birthday, I’ll bake you something special then, too.”
Technically, North did give me a book, but I suspect Eddyand Lambert are as aware as I am that it was filched from Ackland’s personal collection.
I swear the women around us are leaning in, as curious as to the box’s contents as I am. A drawer beneath my desk pops open, and I swipe the gift into it without preamble, snapping the wood shut.
It’smyChristmas present, and I’m not sharing it with these people I barely know.
Lambert’s smile falls slightly, and I frown. Was he expecting me to open it now? If he was, he shouldn’t have brought an audience. It’s bad enough that the Winthrop heir was just seen giving me a bribe.
Or was that part of his plan, too? Destroy my impartiality one public spectacle at a time?
Magic, what must the other patrons think?
Shaking off the cynical thought, I pin him with my best disapproving glare.
“You’re going to be late to class, and you’re holding up the…”
I trail off, as an ornate black door on the opposite side of the Rotunda swings open and a familiar head of blond hair steps through.
Pierce.
Ugh. It’s too early in the morning for this.
Lambert follows my line of sight, then shifts, putting himself directly between my desk and the approaching man.
“Ladies, I appreciate your help, but the Librarian is right; we don’t want to keep Hopkinson waiting.” He offers them all a congenial smile that belies the stiffness of his posture.
They aren’t stupid. Many of them already noted the violence threatening to brew and fled. Even some of the arcanists in the queue behind them abandon the Rotunda, feigning huffed impatience. Some are slower than others, lingering like the temptation of potential gossip is too much to resist.
I belatedly wonder if I’ve missed something. Two heirs being in one place isn’t usually enough to force the patrons to scatter like this, but I shove my misgivings aside. Whatever parriarch drama is undoubtedly going on beyond these walls can remain out there.
