Queen Bee(6)
Author: Amalie Howard

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Blake—or was it Ansel?—said. Blake was the pale, freckled redhead, I was certain of it, while Ansel had a curtain of sleek black hair and was of Asian heritage. Rafi was the gray-eyed, mouthy Persian one. While Keston might have mentioned them in passing years before, when we were younger, he hadn’t described them in great detail. It was nice to put faces to the names.

 

“I’m not sure I will. I’ve heard there are parties here where diamond rings and tiepins are given out as favors.” Tinkling laughter tumbled out of me. “I simply can’t imagine the indulgence.” I waved a hand. “Case in point.”

 

“Almack’s is nothing,” Rafi put in with a wicked grin. “Wait until Ridley has his family’s famous end-of-season ball in a couple of months. Everyone talks about that for weeks in advance and afterward.” A bold gaze raked over me. “So, which country town has been hiding your charms for so long?”

 

I wanted to gag at his overt flirtation, but I sipped the tasteless lemonade instead. “You wouldn’t know it. A nondescript little village a long way from London.”

 

“Trust me, we’ve all had our fair share of sleepy small villages,” Keston put in drily. “I, for one, can’t get enough of the energy of town. A far sight better than a lecture hall, I tell you.”

 

Good gracious, that baritone. Rafi could flirt all day long and it would do nothing for me, but all Keston had to do was open his mouth. Though I didn’t recall him ever sounding quite like this—pitched deep and so rich that I could taste it, like a decadent morsel of bittersweet chocolate. Who knew the cadence of a voice could be so…evocative?

 

“You all attend university?” I asked.

 

“We do,” Ansel answered. “Blake and I are at Cambridge, and these two, Oxford, unless, of course, Harbridge dies and Ridley becomes duke.”

 

“God forbid,” Keston said under his breath. “I hope my father leads a long and happy life. I’m much too young to be married to Parliament like the rest of those grumpy old men. I want to see the Continent, go on my grand tour, and live a little before I’m tied down by dukedom and duty.”

 

Blake let out a guffaw but lowered his voice all the same. “You really think Poppy will approve of a grand tour? That one has you strapped to her side with glue and a few iron nails for good measure.” The other two boys joined in the laughter, but Keston’s face remained studiously blank at the mention of his supposed sweetheart. Curious.

 

“Poppy?” I asked, following the conversation with interest.

 

“Ridley’s warden,” Ansel said through his snickers.

 

Rafi made a production of looking around the ballroom, putting his palm to his forehead as though staring into bright light. “I’m surprised she hasn’t made her way over here to mark her territory now that Lady Jersey has introduced the competition and fresh meat.”

 

“Cut it out, Rafi,” Keston said.

 

“Fresh meat?” I said, wrinkling my nose. “That’s rather condescending.”

 

Rafi shot me a look that stopped short of him licking his lips, but I met his stare with an even one of my own, arching my brow until his gaze slid away, a deep flush darkening his cheekbones. “I’m a hunter,” he said, still striving for dominance. “Ladies love when I give chase.”

 

I swallowed my snort at his boast. “But do they, though? Let me offer some gentle advice—sometimes a subtle touch is what’s required. No lady likes to be smothered with hubris and vanity.”

 

“Ouch!” Blake chortled. “The hunter has no skills.”

 

“I have skills,” Rafi muttered as his friends dissolved into laughter.

 

I felt Keston’s amused eyes on me but didn’t dare look up. A web had to be spun, and I needed to be a very focused spider, which meant weaving my way around his best mates and not basking in the glow of his approval.

 

“I like this one, Ridley,” Rafi said after a charged beat. “Let’s keep her around.”

 

“Alas, I am not a thing to be kept,” I said lightly. “Though you four seem rather fun, so I could be convinced to hang around.”

 

Blake grinned, eyes widening with enthusiasm. “We could be bad news, you know.”

 

So could I. “How so?”

 

“We have a bit of a reputation for being a fast set.” He winked at me, and I couldn’t help remarking how adorable he was. Not like Keston’s demigod looks, of course, but rugged and mischievous with that thick red hair and those bright blue eyes that promised trouble.

 

“Believe me,” I said with a laugh. “I had the measure of you lot from a mile away.” I pointed in turn, starting with Keston, then Rafi and Ansel, and ending with Blake. “The Prince, the Rake, the Scholar, and the Jester.”

 

Blake pulled a face. “Hey, how do you know that I’m not the prince?”

 

Keston’s face split into a wide grin as he punched his friend good-naturedly in the arm. “Even she has the sense to see it, mate.”

 

“But the jester?” Blake pressed a dramatic hand to his heart. “At least name me the most handsome or charming or something.”

 

Grinning, I lifted my fan to his shoulder and pressed down on either side like I was a queen knighting a squire. “So dubbed, Sir Charming.”

 

We all broke into laughter at Blake’s mollified expression.

 

“What’s so funny?” a female voice asked, and I turned just in time to see a blonde draping herself over Keston. Three girls flanked her. I’d been prepared for Poppy, of course, but the sight of her made my jaw clench and stomach drop in tandem.

 

My two-faced former best friend.

 

Like Keston, she still turned heads. Elfin and lithe, she was dressed in a stunning teal satin gown that would make any girl green with envy. Pale ice-blue eyes met mine, calculating and cool. I held the stare with an even one of my own.

 

“This is Miss Lyra Whitley,” Ansel interjected before Keston could make the introductions. “She’s come to us in the care of Lady Birdie.”

 

“My guardian,” I explained when Poppy’s eyes panned to where Lady Birdie stood, an arm’s length away, in conversation with Lady Jersey and Lady Sefton. I felt Lady Birdie’s attention on me from time to time—she took her chaperoning duties very seriously.

 

Keston cleared his throat and gestured to the girl currently impersonating a cloak over his shoulders. “Miss Whitley, allow me to introduce Miss Landers. Miss Landers, this is Miss Whitley.”