Page 53 of Cruel Games

Kendrick gave me an eager nod, and we ate our soup in silence.

After a meal of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding followed by Bakewell pudding and custard, we walked to the village of white, eighteenth-century buildings arranged around a paved square with its own gazebo. As the afternoon sun glinted off their slate roofs, I noticed that most of them were unusually well-preserved.

Maxwell explained that the village had been built in the reign of King George to support troops for the Napoleonic Wars. Now, most of the industry around the village centered on the school and tourism.

“Have you been to the Bonny Thistle?” he asked.

I glanced into a cozy restaurant with flagstone floors, dark wood furniture, lit by candles and a roaring fireplace. “No.”

“We can go together next Sunday.”

“Isn’t it too soon after Elizabeth to be asking girls out for dates?”

He smiled. “I told you. We never dated.”

“You just courted her for fun?”

“Not exactly.” His brows drew together. “Maxwell and Orlando gave up on her sometime last year, and I kept her company out of habit. There wasn’t anyone I noticed until you came along.”

“You barely even looked at me.”

“The glimpses I caught were enough, and I thought the way you spoke to Maxwell and Orlando was fun.”

I shook my head. “Sometimes, I don’t understand boys.”

“Will you give me another chance?”

My gaze caught a gorgeous window display of a chocolate fountain. Next to it stood a pile of macaroons. On the other side, lay chocolate hearts that looked hand-made.

“Do you want to stop off at the Chocolate Salon for a cup of tea?” he asked.

I stared into his eager face and sighed. Kendrick’s gray eyes glimmered with hope, his brows raised with expectation. Did my view of his asshole twin and best friend cloud my judgment, or was Kendrick as big a bastard as Orlando and Maxwell? It was hard to tell.

“Actually, we’d better head back. I’m meeting someone this evening, and I want to have a soak beforehand.”

His face fell, and guilt twanged at my heartstrings. “Alright”, he said. “But think about it. We can go to the village any weekend you like.”

I didn’t reply. No matter how nice Kendrick appeared, I still couldn’t trust him.

Chapter 19

We returned to the academy, where I made an excuse about needing to finish stitching some horsehair on a garment for tailoring club.

At the entrance to the tower, Kendrick leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek, but I ducked through the door with a muttered goodbye.

I fired up my phone, checking for any messages from Gideon, but nothing came up. His date with Lachlan would probably stretch all the way to curfew.

Instead of moping about lost opportunities with Kendrick, I opened my wardrobe and pulled out my sewing kit and my latest project—a tailored jacket to match my Sunday dress.

Hours later, I made my way to the headmaster’s office, wiped my damp hands on my dress, and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” replied his deep Scottish voice.

I pushed open the door to find Mr. Burgh sitting behind his desk, dressed in a white shirt, tweed waistcoat, and matching pants, looking very dapper.

Butterflies took flight in my stomach, and my breath quickened. After a lifetime of gangsters, it was hard to believe that this cultured gentleman was my flesh and blood.

He glanced up and gave me a tired smile. “I’m so sorry.”