Page 62 of Cruel Shame

At school, I had friends from different backgrounds, and I knew how badly others struggled. Some of the foster homes I lived in were one step up from squalid, with parents accepting children for a juicy fostering allowance.

He sat back and offered me a crooked smile. “Do you still want to get involved with me?”

My gaze swept down his body and lingered on his crotch. “I can see one or two benefits to us getting much closer.”

Orlando exhaled a long breath. “On a serious note, I now see how easy it is for powerful people to crush lives and move on without a thought of the people they’ve ruined.”

I squeezed his hand. If only there was someone who could help Elizabeth see the same.

Several minutes later, the bell for lunch rang, and we made our way to the dining hall. Gideon was the first of our group to arrive, followed by Maxwell, and then Kendrick. As I told them everything I knew, I kept glancing at the head table for signs of Mrs. Campbell. Both her and Mr. Burgh’s seats remained empty throughout the first course. Just as the servers were taking away our minestrone soup, Mrs. Campbell stepped in with a glow to her cheeks.

I rose to my feet and darted across the room. “Is Mr. Burgh still at the hearing?”

Her lips twisted into a tight smile, and her eyes glowed with triumph. “The headmaster and his advocates are ironing out a few issues with the academy. I expect he’ll be busy for another few hours.”

As Mrs. Campbell made her way to the head table, I returned to Gideon and the knights to find a plate of sausages and mash at my place setting.

“What did she say?” Kendrick asked as I took my seat.

“He’s still in there with his lawyers,” I said.

Gideon steepled his fingers. “That sounds promising.”

“Or the archbishop brought his own lawyers, rendering the headmaster’s efforts null and void,” Kendrick drawled.

Orlando and Maxwell exchanged smirks and continued with their meals while Kendrick and Gideon speculated on opposing outcomes for Mr. Burgh. It wasn’t exactly a hostile conversation, and I could barely follow what they were saying, but my head spun with the testosterone-laden one-upmanship.

Gideon looked like he was enjoying the debate, so I cut a slice of sausage and popped it in my mouth. This had to be how introverts flexed their intellectual muscles.

After lunch, Maxwell and I followed another server with a trolley full of drinks to the boardroom. Since the meetings were still in progress, we made our way to Art and Design class.

Today’s lesson was portraiture, and the academy had hired a male model to pose in his underpants, while we sketched him with charcoal for the first hour, and then he changed position for a longer study that would last two weeks. Maxwell set up an easel to make an oil painting, and I chose watercolor paper, so I could leave early with minimal cleanup.

Thoughts of Mr. Burgh, Father Neapolitan, and the archbishop raced through my mind. Would they remove the suspension or make him wait weeks for them to investigate Elizabeth’s lies? What did the archbishop think of his wife and daughter’s machinations? Would Father Neapolitan try to approach me or continue to deny that he and I were related? My heart ached and pounded a mix of fury and worry.

Maxwell turned away from his easel and frowned. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve got to get out of here.”

He shook his head. “Don’t give them a reason to suspend you. Hang on for another ten minutes until the period ends. Leave your things and I’ll pack them up.”

Maxwell was right. I swirled my brush in the container of water, washing all the pigment from its bristles and blew on my unfinished underpainting.

As soon as the bell rang, I bolted out of the classroom, ran down the stairs and across the hallway. A pair of servers stood in the boardroom, clearing up a mountain of cups and plates. My heart flip-flopped. Where was Mr. Burgh?

I ran into the dark evening and down the driveway to the headmaster’s quarters. The downstairs windows glowed with dim light, indicating that the living room fire was blazing. My steps faltered. This had to be good news, right?

Mr. Burgh sat on the sofa, staring into the flames, with a glass of whiskey in both hands that glinted in the firelight. Warm light from the flames reflected on his face, making his features more angular.

I hovered in the doorway, clasping my hands over a stomach fluttering with nerves. “How did it go?”

His gaze rose to meet mine, and he shuffled across the sofa in a silent invitation for me to take the center seat next to him. “I brought a defamation lawyer, a criminal lawyer, a lawyer who specialized in private education, and their senior partner. Each of them brought paralegals to gather information.”

I crept toward the sofa and winced. “That sounds expensive. Can you afford it?”

“There’s no cost a man can put on his reputation.” He took a sip of the whiskey, pursed his lips, and stared into the fire.

Mr. Burgh told me how the senior partner said it would be a conflict of interest for Lady Liddell to chair the Board of Governors’ meeting in light of her allegations, and the archbishop agreed she should leave. After that, the lawyers took over, saying that their people were already downloading terabytes of information to get to the truth of what was really happening in the academy.