Page 30 of Deposed

“Come on.” Edward stood and held out his hand. “We’ll go together.”

I wrapped my fingers around his, enjoying the warmth of our touch, and rose from my seat. Mr. Jenkins trudged out of the dining room, and we followed after him hand-in-hand, stealing glances at each other. For a moment, the betrayals and bitterness faded into the ether, leaving behind the young man who cared deeply for his friends, family, and employees, and the young woman who adored him for it.

A musty aroma filled my nostrils the moment we stepped through the threshold of Mr. Jenkins’ office. His curtains were drawn, and even larger piles of paper than before littered his desk. He lowered himself into his seat and gestured for us to sit.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s this about, sir?”

He cleared his throat. “Your new Latin master, Mr. Pickering, informs me that he ejected you from his class.”

“He did…” I folded my arms across my chest and drummed my fingers on my biceps.

“You now have too many free periods, and that’s unacceptable. Either choose another subject or an extracurricular activity to make up the required hours.”

“What’s available?” I asked.

Mr. Jenkins rattled off a list of subjects, all of which were academic, tedious, and would do nothing for my writing career. When I remained silent, he added, “The following clubs and teams are seeking new members: debating, Gilbert and Sullivan, chess, hockey—”

“Hockey,” I said. It was the only topic that vaguely interested me and only because I had played in Park Prep.

“I’ll write a note to the Physical Education mistress, and she will get in touch with you with instructions.”

On our way back to the dining room, Edward wrapped an arm around my waist. In a low, commanding voice, he said, “Your presence is required at lunchtime.”

Memories of the first time we were in his study resurfaced, where Blake had unfastened the buttons of my blouse and teased my breasts until I unbuttoned the garment open. He had exposed me to Henry and Edward, who had devoured me with their gazes. My nipples twinged in anticipation of Blake’s fingers, and my core throbbed at the promise of what would happen when I stripped for the triumvirate.

Keeping the breathiness out of my voice, I asked, “Should I meet you in your study?”

“Outside the former headmaster’s office. We’re meeting the Board of Governors to discuss my fundraising idea.”

“Oh.” My libido shriveled at the disappointing pronouncement. We stepped into the dining room, where Charlotte glowered down at us from the head table. “What do you want me to do?”

“You’ll sit next to me and smile and nod at everything I say.”

I wrinkled my nose. “And the point of that is?”

“Social proof.” He pulled out my chair. “You represent the female students, demonstrating that my idea is inclusive to both genders.”

“Whatever.” I grabbed a triangle of toast from the rack. At least this would be a change from the other tasks of penance I had performed for the triumvirate. This time, I wouldn’t be stuck in a limo for hours, listening to him bellyache about how much I’d betrayed him.

* * *

After morning classes, I met Edward by the bank of desks outside Mr. Chaloner’s old office. A new secretary sat outside the door, who crunched numbers on a calculator. I tried to take a look at her documents, but it was impossible without leaning over the desk and making my spying obvious.

“Emilia,” said Edward from behind. “It’s this way.” He guided me through the hallway on the left of the office and through a wooden door at its end.

Eight of the twelve members of the Board of Governors sat around a wide, rectangular table. At its head stood Mr. Weaver, the man in the academic robes who had spoken in the assembly.

His brows rose. “Viscount Highdown and…”

I glanced over my shoulder for signs of the mysterious viscount, but found no one at our backs.

“Miss Emilia Hobson.” Edward placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me to one of the two seats at the end of the boardroom table, opposite Mr. Weaver.

I stole a glance at Edward. No one had told me he was a viscount. I didn’t even know what exactly the title meant or why it had been awarded to someone under the age of eighteen.

“Thank you, members of the board, for accommodating me at such short notice,” said Edward, his voice clear and commanding. “I would like to propose a fundraiser to generate some good press for the academy to help repair its reputation.”

The woman sitting to Mr. Weaver’s right steepled her fingers. “I hardly think a charity event will erase the effects of all the negative press the school has received over the past months.”