The Oxford Inheritance Read Online Free PDF Page A

that box, Hugo,” she was calling. “Those are antique lamps in there.” She turned and stopped, seeing Cassie beside the bed.
    â€œExcuse me.” She arched an eyebrow, sweeping Cassie with an icy stare. “Who are you?”
    Cassie tensed. She’d met her share of wealthy people; life in Cambridge, and New Haven, and Providence made sure of that. There were a dozen breeds—oblivious old money, brash immigrant fortunes, younger, disheveled kids who thought they could mask the family name with thrift-store denim and clove cigarettes. But what gave them away every time was the confident tone to every syllable, an innate superiority that was born and nurtured through prep schools and summer trips, an entire life spent cocooned in a marvelous certainty that they belonged, that this—grades, or jobs, or lovers, whatever it was that took their liking—was theirs by rights.
    This girl was one of them. Beautiful in an angular, aristocratic way, she had piercing blue eyes and a sweep of glossy blond hair. She wore tight black jeans and an aged suede jacket, and had smudged eyeliner, but there were pearl studs at her ears and the bags looped over each arm were crafted leather and clearly designer.
    Cassie knew she was sweaty and disheveled in her sweatshirt and leggings, but she held her ground. “I think you’ve got the wrong room. This is mine.”
    The girl glanced at the heavy wooden door, marked with dull bronze numbers. “Five eighty. Sorry, you’re the one who’s mistaken.” She dropped her bags to the floor. “We’ll need the rugs,” she called outside the door. “And tell Parker to bring up that cabinet, the one . . .” She stopped impatiently. “Hugo? Hugo!”
    There was no reply, and the girl gave an exasperated sigh. “I can help get the rest of your things together,” she offered Cassie. “The office will sort out a new room.”
    â€œNo thanks,” Cassie replied stubbornly. “I’m good here.” She sauntered over to the window seat and sat down, lounging back in the narrow seat. Beside her, the view stretched all the way to the riverbanks, grassy and bright in the afternoon sun.
    She shouldn’t be causing a scene, but Cassie couldn’t help it. She had learned the importance of territory in her first group home, where the kids had squabbled over a few feet of bedroom space. She certainly wasn’t about to give up her claim to this vast spread of gleaming honeyed floorboards and smooth, cool walls.
    The girl looked at Cassie again, as if sensing her steely determination. Her frown smoothed into a wide smile, and suddenly, her face was transformed to something warm, even friendly. “I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. “Where are my manners? I’ve been lugging boxes all day for the move. I didn’t even ask your name.”
    Cassie introduced herself, cautious.
    â€œLovely to meet you.” The girl smiled. “I’m Olivia, Olivia Mandeville. I’m sorry to cause you all this bother.”
    â€œLike you said, it’s probably a mix-up.” Cassie stood her ground. “I’m sure the office will be able to sort you out another room.”
    Olivia laughed, a musical sound. “You’re a transfer?” she asked.
    Cassie frowned. “What does that matter?”
    â€œIt matters because these are the finalist rooms. Third years.” Olivia gave an apologetic shrug. “We drew a ballot last year for rooms; my friends and I all picked Carlton. Foreign students are over with the freshers in Hartwell, round the back, by the kitchens.” She turned away to bellow out of the door. “Hugo!” Her voice rang, strong and arch, and then she was gone, back out into the maze of creaking hallways and dusty stairs, the air above her baggage drifting with golden particles of dust, as if even the ripples she left in her wake were gleaming with some