Page 59 of Payback

“As if.”

Dr. Asgard stepped away from the group and bounded toward us with his hand outstretched. He pumped Edward’s hand and greeted him like an old friend. It was then I remembered that the doctor was also the duke’s physician. The doctor guided us through the trailer’s cool interior, which contained four beds. A nurse and six paramedics bustled about inside, getting ready for the arrival of the donors.

Charlotte stepped in behind us with Lady Seagrove. “I’m so glad Edward decided to implement my suggestion of a blood donation day. We need to contribute more to public health.”

Annoyance flared through my insides, and I clenched my fists. Edward wrapped an arm around my waist and squeezed. His signal for me to keep my cool. I gave him a subtle nod. There was no way I would make a scene in front of the Board of Governors, but there was also no way I would let Charlotte make herself look good by stealing our idea.

“Why don’t you be the first to donate?” I said.

Dr. Asgard swept his arm toward one of the beds. “It’s wonderful to see such enthusiasm in the young!”

Charlotte’s face paled. “You first.”

“Why don’t we all donate at the same time?” said Edward.

Charlotte glared at me as though I’d insulted her in front of the Board of Directors. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Before anyone could reply, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the trailer. I clenched my teeth, trying to keep my face neutral. Why didn’t that girl just do everyone a favor and fall down a ditch?

The doctor guided us through the blood donation process. Mr. Weaver volunteered to donate, and Lady Seagrove pursed her lips. After a few tense moments, she agreed to participate.

I lay back on the bed and smiled. If Charlotte hadn’t rushed out, the arrogant old aristocrat might not have felt under pressure to give her precious, blue blood.

Afterward, one of the paramedics set up an awning at the side of the trailer, along with tables and chairs. Edward and I stood in the shade, handing out leaflets on blood donation, welcoming donors into the trailer, and handing out drinks and snacks to everyone who had donated blood. At some point in the morning, Henry and Blake arrived to donate, but they disappeared soon after to get snacks.

Sports day turned out to be more of a village fete with the occasional game than a day dedicated to sports. Parents, staff, villagers, and the press wandered around the great lawn, sampling produce. Most gathered in the giant refreshments marquee set up at the far end, between the tuck shop and Elder House.

“Doctor!” shouted a shrill voice. Charlotte led a procession of two-dozen boys from the sixth and upper-sixth years across the lawn. “I’ve found some donors.”

Dr. Asgard rocked back on his heels. “Jolly good, Miss Underwood. With your proactivity, we may run out of blood bags!”

Raising her chin, she shot me a triumphant glare. “Yes. I’ve been working hard while some have been sitting in the sun handing out drinks.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to donate?” I folded my arms across my chest.

“She was waiting for us.” Coates slung an arm over her shoulder and guided her into the trailer.

Edward and I shared puzzled looks. Since when had Charlotte made up with all the boys she had scammed into that disastrous booze cruise?

As Charlotte’s entourage waited in line to donate, I turned my attention to the charity auction. Outside the main teaching block, Mr. Jenkins sounded more confident than usual on the stage, announcing items on the microphone which his wife held up for display.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, voice breathy with excitement. “My next item is a six-person hamper containing bone-china crockery, stainless-steel cutlery, and a cashmere picnic rug. And of course, it comes with two bottles of vintage champagne, a vast selection of liqueurs, meats, patés, cheeses, and preserves. It comes with a weekend stay at the Mountbatten golf-course and spa, and is generously donated by Mr. Oscar Bourneville!”

As applause broke out across the lawn, both our heads turned to the outdoor auction.

I clapped my hand over my mouth. “Don’t tell me he’s here?”

“Over at the front,” Blake said from behind. “Turning around so everyone can see him.”

“Bloody hell,” Edward said under his breath.

“Why’s he here?” I turned to find Blake standing in front of our table of blood donation leaflets.

“Likely to show the world that he isn’t a heartless bastard.” Blake wrinkled his nose. “Because going to your son’s sports day makes up for informing him of his disinheritance via a one-page announcement in The Times.”

I shook my head. “Do you think he wants Henry to grovel for a piece of the Bourneville fortune?”

“Probably.”