Page 50 of Outcast

My throat dried, and I gulped a mouthful of champagne. They had already gotten me to agree to be their shared date for the charity Christmas ball. My mind refused to believe they were suggesting anything else.

Blake leaned forward, chin raised, eyes glimmering with challenge. “I’d like to know your thoughts.”

Was I imagining things, or was the triumvirate making me an indecent proposal?

Chapter 18

My gaze swept from Henry, who leaned forward, green eyes expectant, to Blake, who gave me a saucy wink, to Edward, who furrowed his brow. My throat flexed in time with my tightening stomach. This had to be a trick. Boys this handsome collected girls. They didn’t vie for the attention of anyone, let alone a girl they’d called a trollop for weeks. The moment I asked if they were suggesting I date all three of them, they would chuckle and make a disparaging remark about my sexual appetite. Then Henry would tell them I was a virgin, and they’d all laugh.

After an awkward silence, Edward placed his glass of champagne in a special holder. “Perhaps a change in subject would be appropriate.”

Blake lowered his glass. “But—”

“Tell me, Henry, what will you wear to the charity ball?”

Henry mentioned his green cummerbund and matching bowtie, and Blake laughed, saying that was what he wore to the last ball. The tightening of my stomach eased, but I couldn’t help thinking about what I’d heard. They might have shared objects, but I’d seen no evidence of them sharing girls. Henry hadn’t shown any interest in anyone until we had been forced together in a room for nine days. As far as I knew, Charlotte’s relationship with Edward had been platonic. I glanced at Blake, who shucked an oyster like a pro. I didn’t know how to describe the arrangement he’d had with Charlotte.

At the other end of the limo, Edward stretched out his long, muscled legs and took a slow sip of his champagne. Although he faced front, the blue of his eyes fixed on me. I probably stared back at him like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a wolf, but I had to work out what they’d proposed. If anything, Alice and Patricia shared Edward, so why would he want to share me with his friends?

I gave myself a mental shake. They had probably been talking about the dance.

The conversation continued as normal, with the boys wanting a hint at what I would wear to the ball and which accessories I would need. I kept tight-lipped but dropped useless hints that made them laugh. Blake showed me how to prepare and eat oysters, but he held off all that sexy talk the entire journey.

When we reached Mercia Academy, the limo sped past Elder House and through a small wood, to a mansion built in the same flat-fronted, symmetrical style as the main teaching block. It was significantly smaller, with four stories instead of five, but with tall, sash windows instead of four towers.

“Welcome to my home,” said Edward.

With a gasp, I blurted, “Who lives here?”

For a second, his face fell, taking on the expression of an abandoned, little boy. “The butler, I suppose.”

My stomach clenched. Henry had told me Edward’s mother had died in his first year of the academy. I wanted to ask about the current Duke of Mercia, but I remembered that Henry mentioned the man’s declining mental health. Blake grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the limo.

“Emilia,” he said with a forced laugh. “You have to see Edward’s gramophone. It’s the most ridiculous thing!”

“What’s a gramophone?”

Henry stepped out of the limo and placed an arm around my waist. “A record player of sorts.”

Blake also looped his arm around my back. “Let’s not waste time.” He ushered me up the steps that lead to a paneled, wooden door with iron knockers taking the shape of an eagle. “Onwards and upwards!”

I glanced over my shoulder. The door to the limo lay open, but Edward still sat inside. I turned to Henry. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Don’t ask about his family,” said Blake in smooth tones. “It’s a sore subject and not one we care to talk about.”

I wouldn’t push. I’d been on the receiving end of intrusive questions about my own family, and I didn’t want to be that type of person who couldn’t take a hint. We stepped through the doors and into a marble reception hall, much like the one in the main teaching block. Perhaps the buildings had been designed by the same architect.

An elderly butler stepped out from a wooden door beyond the reception hall. “Mr. Henry, Mr. Blake, how wonderful it is to see you.”

“This is Emilia,” said Blake. “Our new friend.”

The butler’s brows rose, and he inclined his head. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Emilia. How are you finding life at a British boarding school? A little different to what you’re used to in America, I presume?”

“I…” Realization hit me like a slap in the face. Edward had spoken to his butler about me. I forced a smile. “It’s great here. I love the architecture.”

He nodded, made a comment about the buildings around the campus, and led us up a set of grand, marble stairs to Edward’s suite on the first floor. The room was over six times the size of the dorm I shared with Rita with floor-to-ceiling windows giving a view of the mansion’s manicured gardens. At one end of the room stood a four-poster bed, and in the other stood a roll-top bathtub with claw feet. Silk brocade sofas occupied the middle, where two magnums of champagne sat in buckets crammed with ice.

The butler bowed. “Mr. Edward will join you soon.”