Page 56 of Revenge

“That you weren’t behind the kidnapping, of course.”

I dropped his wrist as though brainlessness was contagious and folded my arms across my chest. My pulse thrashed in my eardrums, drowning out the sounds of music playing from International House. Anyone could make assurances. Pretty words and earnest utterances in the heat of passion were worthless in the cold light of day. “How will you convince them?”

Henry leaned down to give me a peck on the lips, but I stepped out of range. He had the nerve to droop his shoulders as though he’d been rejected for no reason and stared at me, eyes pained. “Once they get to know you, they’ll understand you could never be capable of such a crime.”

“No,” I snapped.

“I don’t follow.”

I prodded him in the chest. “You have to tell them who did it.”

He turned his gaze toward the plaque on the bench. “I couldn’t.”

“That’s what we agreed.”

His brows drew together. “You wanted me to tell them you weren’t the kidnapper.”

“Right,” I said between clenched teeth. There was no point in continuing this line of conversation when he was deliberately acting obtuse. “We’ll be late for Spanish.”

He grabbed my bicep. “What’s wrong?”

I tried jerking my arm free, but his grip was too firm. “Rudolph still thinks I arranged a kidnapping, and he still thinks I’m harboring half a million pounds. If I step out of line one more time, he’ll send me to military school.”

“But you’re here.” He cupped both cheeks with his warm hands. Hands that now felt stifling.

I shook my head. “Why would he pay for the university education of a person who extorted a fortune from your parents? I won’t get into any colleges with no money, and my grades aren’t high enough for a scholarship.”

“Shhh.” He pressed a kiss on my forehead and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “You worry too much. By then, I’ll come into my fortune and take care of you.”

I stepped out of his grasp. “Then I really will become a trollop.”

His face fell. “Emilia.”

I stormed off down the magnolia path. He could easily have caught up with me, but he didn’t. Maybe he was thinking about what I’d said, or maybe he just didn’t care. What kind of idiot would take the rap for someone else’s crimes on the promise that they’d be taken care of at some point in the distant future?

Henry didn’t know I’d made a deal with Rudolph and be safely in New York before the end of term, but his attempt at fulfilling his end of the bargain was insulting. As I neared the wood doors of the main teaching block, I remembered the most important flaw in his pathetic promise of financial support. Henry was one of the youngest people in our year. His birthday was on September first, which meant by the time the funds were due for colleges, he would still be only seventeen.

The thought of enduring two hours of Spanish with Henry at my side made my stomach churn, so I walked alongside the main teaching block toward the library. It was as old as Elder House, with its stone front and small windows. Its interior consisted of a single floor with mezzanines that stretched up to a vaulted, stained glass ceiling. Students sat at four-person, mahogany desks, each fitted with brass table lamps to provide additional illumination.

A few heads turned as I passed. All the crap that had been posted about me on the Mercia-Net had meant that few students didn’t know the American trollop. I spotted a set of wooden stairs that led to the first mezzanine and tiptoed up them, trying not to make the structure creak. The mezzanine was about eight feet wide with stained glass windows every few feet between bookcases. An ornate, iron rail ran down one side, making it feel like an upstairs landing.

Lowering myself into the leather window seat with a view of the lawn and the row of magnolia trees, I let out a deep sigh. Was it time to leave Mercia Academy? I could have pressed Jackie to fund my return plane ticket to New York, but I had wanted the satisfaction of Henry clearing my name by confessing his crime to his parents. I lowered my head into my hands and sighed.

Moments later, footsteps padded toward me, and a quiet voice said, “Emilia?”

I glanced up. Blake stared down at me, his face solemn. My brow creased. “I thought you had Music.”

“Henry asked me to speak to you. Will you come outside with me?”

“What’s the point?” I asked.

“You might learn something that explains his behavior.”

“Alright. Let me put these books away, and I’ll meet you outside.”

He smiled and headed toward the iron stairs that led to the ground floor. As soon as he disappeared down the steps, I pulled out my burner phone and turned on the recording app. I doubted that Blake would tell me anything that could possibly explain why Henry would let his supposed lover take the blame for his crime, but he might reveal something of use to Jackie and the team.

Outside, Blake placed a hand on the small of my back, and we strolled to a garden behind the music block where white-flowered, evergreen shrubs grew next to lavender. While we walked around a meandering, gravel path, he repeated things I had already heard weeks ago from Edward. That Henry had faked his own kidnapping to pay for the Duke of Mercia’s full-time care and that the Duchy’s finances were in a terrible state because of decisions the duke had made before his diagnosis of dementia.