Page 53 of Deposed

“And the girl who accompanies me to Narcotics Anonymous meetings,” added Blake.

All traces of irritation melted away from Mrs. Simpson-West’s face. “Who did this to you?”

“Peter Underwood, the son of the recently resigned Secretary of State for the Supreme Court, and Ernest Carbuncle, the school janitor.”

“Are they in custody yet?”

“Only Mr. Underwood the younger,” replied Blake. “Carbuncle’s still at large.”

Mrs. Simpson-West twisted around and addressed a female servant who had held a jug of water on a tray as a pretext to enter Blake’s room to eavesdrop. The woman nodded and scurried away.

I glanced at Blake, who shrugged. It looked like he didn’t know what his mother was planning, either. She strode up to a young detective, who was built a little like Henry, and spoke to him in soft, flirtatious tones. This time, when I turned to Blake, he scowled. Hadn’t Henry told me that the prince had found Mrs. Simpson-West in bed with the chauffeur?

A moment later, the female servant entered and gave Blake’s mother a jar. She sashayed around to the bed, dropped it on the bedside table, and examined the labels of my painkillers and sleeping pills. “This is a fast-acting bruise salve, mixed by one of the foremost herbal scientists in the country. I can vouch for its efficacy.”

My stomach churned with a mixture of apprehension and revulsion. Why would she still need bruise salve if Blake’s father had died four years ago? Blake’s body stiffened at my side, and I couldn’t meet his gaze. In the back of my mind, I wondered if he had made the same speculations about his mother’s relationship with the prince.

I gazed into Mrs. Simpson-West’s face but couldn’t find a single bruise. “Th-thank you.”

She swept out of the room in a cloud of Coco Chanel, taking away her entourage of detectives and nosy servants. As she stepped out of the door, she cast Blake a withering look. “And for God’s sake, don’t let Henry know about your little indiscretion unless you want to end up with a face like Emilia’s!”

My mouth dropped open, and I exchanged a shocked glance with Blake, who rolled his eyes. Did she really think Henry would strike a friend?

The door clicked shut, and my tongue darted out to moisten the undamaged side of my lips. “Blake, do you—”

“Are you thirsty?” He shot out of bed and raced around to the side table, where the female servant had left a jug of water and two glasses. His gaze flickered to the clock. “It’s noon. Time for your painkiller.”

My shoulders drooped, and I settled into the nest of pillows. If he didn’t want to talk about his mother’s need for bruise salve, I wouldn’t bring up the subject.

The door slammed open, and Henry and Edward burst into the room. As soon as their gazes caught mine, their bodies, and expressions, froze.

My heart sank, and I pulled the silk sheet up around my neck. “Is it that bad?”

“Surprising.” Edward enunciated each syllable as though careful not to say the wrong thing. “Blake told us this morning. We came as soon as we could but got delayed at security.” He stretched his lips into a bland smile, but it did nothing to hide the pain etched on his features.

I glanced at Henry, who gaped as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. After stepping further into the room, he shut the door but didn’t move any closer than the foot from the bed. His skin had turned white, and his chest rose and fell like bellows. It was much like the time in the dining room when Coates had twisted Blake in a wrist lock, except this time, there was no one to punch in the face.

Edward walked over to my side of the bed, gave me a peck on the unbruised side of my mouth, and stroked my temple as though I might crumble. His stormy, blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he leaned down and kissed me again.

“Thank heavens Blake found you in time.” His voice was breathy, like he was trying to hold his emotions down. “I don’t know what I would do if—” He shook his head and lowered himself into the bedside chair.

“The doctor prescribed an effective painkiller.” I reached out a hand and curled it around Edward’s. “As long as I take it every four hours, I’ll be comfortable.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “How are you cop—”

“You should have seen Blake last night.” I couldn’t face rehashing last night or facing my feelings. Talking about what Mr. Carbuncle had done and how helpless I had felt would only make me feel worse. It was far easier to recount Blake’s heroic rescue. “He climbed over all the balconies, searching through all the windows for me with his flashlight.”

Blake slipped into bed next to me and rubbed the back of his neck. “My smartphone flash.”

I curled my fingers around Blake’s. “Then he punched a hole through the window and pulled me out.”

He shook his head. “Emilia climbed out by herself. I only helped her land on her feet.”

“Then he carried me on piggyback and sprinted through the balconies with Mr. Carbuncle at our heels.”

Blake stared back at me with his brows furrowed. “You missed the part where I jumped over those barriers.”

I huffed a laugh. Lightning bolts of pain wrapped around my ribs, making me groan and clutch at my sides.