Chapter Three #2
Their expressions ranged from alarm to sympathy to mirth.
The twins of course displayed the last. James looked like he swallowed something vile, a sneer curling his mouth.
They all exchanged silent looks before Harold ventured to speak first. “He’s a hard, exacting taskmaster because he was one of the top-ranking students in the Tripos, so he’ll likely expect a lot from you.
There will be heavy reading, and you will be tested orally frequently. ”
The twins snorted in unison and Klaus fanned himself, pretending to swoon. “He can test me that way any time.”
Kristof rolled his eyes. “True, he is pleasing to the eye, but only if he stays silent. The smart ones always want to show off the size of their brains. So tedious!”
I nearly snorted again. Goodness, they were cheeky.
“One of my mates had him as a tutor last term,” James interjected, helping himself to some blancmange pudding that one of the subsizars had quietly deposited on the table after clearing the rest of the dishes from the previous course.
“He decided to leave university with no plans to return. Guess who forced that decision?”
My eyes widened. “St. Clair caused him to leave?”
“That’s the rumor. He’s a varlet, nothing but a scapegrace.”
Something in the hissed insult combined with the derisive curl of his lip made me frown. “You don’t like him, I take it.”
“Not particularly, no.” James scowled, then turned to glare at the others.
“And before any of you loudmouthed clods say it’s because he got Second Wrangler years ago, and I’m jealous because I got Third, you’re wrong.
He’s arrogant and thinks he’s too good for anyone else even though he doesn’t deserve the position he has. He’s a nobody.”
“Why do you say that?” Harold questioned, clearly surprised by the vitriol.
“I was in the same year as him, remember? He followed me here, certainly not on his own coattail, poaching my fellowship opportunities,” James ground out. It took a minute for him to collect himself. “Everyone knows he was a subsizar who only got special enrollment because of his uncle.”
“He was accepted here, same as any of us,” Harold said quietly. “Financial limitations shouldn’t matter. Within these walls, we’re equal.”
“We’re not, but what would you know? You Americans don’t understand British hierarchy.”
The conceit in James’s voice rubbed me the wrong way, especially when poor Harold hunched into himself, looking oddly humiliated.
There was a social structure here, just as there was in the ton, but James didn’t need to be so heavy-handed about it.
It wasn’t Harold’s fault he was unfamiliar with centuries of English bigotry.
I wasn’t exactly sure what James was alluding to about St. Clair, but if I was stuck with a knave for a tutor, then I needed to be prepared. “So why did your friend leave?”
“He couldn’t keep up, I suppose,” James replied, his gaze meeting mine and seeing my troubled expression.
“Don’t feel too sorry for him either. My friend is a marquess, and an honorary degree will probably be conferred upon him just for living here.
Some highborn toffs don’t even have to take the examination.
A waste of time and coin, if you ask me.
Why even attend university, if you’re not interested in doing the actual work? ”
“An excellent question,” Will said, clearly trying to reduce the tension. “Though I must admit, it’s much harder than I expected it would be, so perhaps an easy degree is a blessing in disguise. For aristocrats, anyway.”
I nodded, thinking of my cousin. “University is the done thing as part of a gentleman’s education, at least if one isn’t lucky or wealthy enough to go on a grand tour.”
The twins sighed in unison.
“I’d give my left arm and leg to be able to go to Europe for a year or two,” Kristof groused. “See the Roman ruins, get my portrait painted in Paris, visit Vienna’s Schonbrunn Palace, run with the bulls in Pamplona, participate in an orgiastic Dionysus bacchanal in Athens. Now that’s an education.”
I nearly spluttered at the last, feeling my face flame.
They were loose with their words, but I was enjoying every scandalous moment.
Girls were never allowed to talk like this.
Honestly, what was an orgiastic bacchanal?
I knew who Dionysus was—the Greek god of wine and ecstasy—so it wasn’t hard to deduce.
Was that what Ansel was doing? No wonder he was so excited about going!
“Why the clergy?” I asked curiously, considering that neither of the twins seemed too reverent in nature, not that I was judging. Perhaps, despite their brazen natures, they would make excellent clergymen.
“We are neither the heir nor the spare in our family,” Klaus replied.
“As third and fourth sons, we could have bought a commission in the navy or gotten an education to become a reverend, the most prestigious genteel profession, so we chose the latter.” He eyed me.
“What about you? What’s a duke’s nephew interested in studying?
Shouldn’t you be in line for the dukedom? ”
Ansel would be in line for my father’s seat after my little brother.
“My younger cousin is the heir apparent, so I’m the spare,” I said.
“But my uncle is healthy, and I hope he lives a very long life. As far as study, I’m interested in astronomy, specifically.
” I felt my cheeks warm with embarrassment.
“I should like to build my own telescope one day.”
Admiration bloomed in Klaus’s eyes. “Capital!”
I peered at the dour-faced James again. “If you’re Third Wrangler, are you a tutor, then, as well?”
James nodded, and for a brief moment, I wondered whether I should switch to him, but the way he had treated Harold stuck like a thorn under my skin.
It was a gut feeling, nothing more, but something told me I’d be better off with St. Clair.
He might dislike me, but at least he didn’t seem unduly spiteful.
When a chair scraped loudly against the stone floor, I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that the crowd in the dining hall had begun to thin.
My stare snagged on a lone figure on the other side of the room, poring intently over a book, while picking at the remnants of some cut fruit on a plate.
My pulse picked up while my eyes greedily absorbed every detail.
As if he’d felt the weight of my scrutiny, Tarik St. Clair glanced up, that fiery blue gaze colliding with mine.
Even with three very long tables between us, it felt like he was an arm’s length away, the sheer magnetism of him intense and annoyingly overpowering.
I could feel his animosity like a tangible touch.
“He really does not esteem you,” Will murmured into my ear, making me jump. “If looks could kill, you would be floating down the River Cam.”
I didn’t think it was that bad. I yanked my gaze away and pretended to be unfazed, even though my heart was galloping like a runaway horse in my chest. It thumped even faster when my voice came out unnaturally loud in the suddenly empty, cavernous room.
“I don’t care what that pompous jackanapes thinks of me. ”
James brayed with laughter, eyes lighting with malice, and I swallowed my discomfort.
“I think he heard you,” Will said, seeming perturbed, but I focused on the table instead of turning back around. “If you’re not careful, he could make your life very difficult.”
“He can try,” I gloated, standing. “But I can handle whatever he throws at me.”
The twins chuckled. “You’re plucky, Roz. Come out with us tomorrow tonight, after curfew. We’re going to a new gambling den that just opened.”
I lifted my brows. “Don’t the proctors frown on that?
You could be fined or face rustication.” I’d overheard Ansel bemoaning fines he’d been forced to pay out of his own pocket many a time for flouting the curfew because of the ever-vigilant proctors who kept track of the students breaking any rules, though he’d never faced suspension. One more privilege of being a peer.
“Not if we don’t get caught,” Kristof said with a wink.
I had a feeling that carousing with those two would be an experience to remember. Grinning at them, I grabbed my bag. “I would love to. But alas, I’ve been summoned by my uncle to London. Count me in for next time, though.”
My skin felt as though it was on fire as I walked past St. Clair’s table, the press of his hostile gaze like blades upon my skin.
It was a decidedly strange feeling—one I’d never felt before, and I could not decide whether it thrilled me or warned me off.
In truth, there was an unhinged part of me that wanted to provoke him further for no reason at all, as if it liked being the insufferable center of his attention.
Flustered, I hastened my steps but froze when his throat cleared.
“Lord Ansel,” he called out. “A moment, please.”
I stopped and forced my stare to meet his, inhaling sharply at his otherworldly beauty.
I kept my lips pressed together so no sound would escape them—namely, the feminine sigh that would most certainly give me away as I swooned over his elegant features up close.
St. Clair’s thick, dark hair was rumpled and fell into his brow as if he’d run his fingers through it too many a time.
My own fingers itched stupidly to do the same, and I fisted them closed.
In all my seasons, no boy had ever taken my breath away, not even Blake, but the poets could write sonnets about this boy’s jawline, sharp cheekbones, and sculpted lips.
The romantics would marvel over the jewel-bright glint of those thick-lashed eyes, where blue was too prosaic a word to describe them, and the warm glow of his russet-brown skin, which would make a person dream of sun-kissed beaches and balmy summers.
When he cleared his throat, I gulped and tore my gaze from the mesmerizing landscape of his face. He pushed a thick book toward me with one finger. “Your required reading for this weekend. I expect a lively discussion first thing on Monday.”
Jolted out of my trance, I glanced down—its spine was as wide as my forearm. “This weekend…this whole book?” I mumbled dully.
His blue irises lit with no small degree of satisfaction, and I cringed inwardly. That haughty expression could rival any condescending blueblood in the ton. “Did I stutter? Didn’t you just boast that you could handle anything I threw your way?”
“I…” My cheeks flamed as I faltered for words with growing distress at the fact that he had overheard me and that my bold boast had earned me a task that would take hours to complete. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“No apology needed. Simply complete the reading and we won’t have any difficulties. Monday, Lord Ansel,” he said, his eyes falling back to his own open book in a clear dismissal.
“Roz,” I choked out. “Name’s Roz.”
I don’t know why I told him that—maybe it was my small attempt to control this untenable situation.
He didn’t answer, though he speared a piece of fruit with a fork and ferried it to his lips.
I should have taken the volume and left, but instead, senselessly captivated, I stared at his mouth like a smitten fool while he bit into the triangle of pear.
He licked the juice off his lower lip, and my entire chest clenched in visceral response.
What would it be like to feel that mouth pressed to mine? To kiss him? The warmth in my cheeks suddenly spread everywhere, from the tips of my ears to my shoulders and torso. My skin felt like it was cinching tight over my bones.
“Lord Ansel?”
My gaze snapped to his in utter mortification at being caught ogling him like some desperate lecher. Heavens, what was I doing? “Yes?” I croaked.
He was frowning. “Is there a problem?”
“No, none.” I forced my face to convey nothing but cool hauteur, though my insides were churning with shame. Hastily, I snatched the book and hurried away on unsteady legs before I could be caught doing something infinitely worse.
Like swooning.