Page 57 of Payback

I rolled my eyes and leaned into Edward. “Isn’t it enough that he took Henry’s place as the rugby captain? Now, he wants to get him into trouble?”

“He really is the most pathetic creature.”

Holding onto the lapels of her black professor’s cloak, Miss Oakley strode to our side of the room, her face a mask of determination. She stopped at Henry’s desk and held out her palm. “Hand it over.”

Henry tilted his head to the side. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your phone,” she snapped.

He tapped his blazer pockets. “I left it in my room today.”

Blake leaned forward and flashed her a dazzling grin. “Should I remind him to bring it to the next class?”

Miss Oakley’s cheeks pinked. “Of course not.” She glanced around. “The next person whose forbidden phone interrupts my lecture will have it confiscated.”

As she ambled back to her desk, Edward pulled out his phone, held it under the table, and glanced at the screen. His eyes widened, and the tiniest of smiles curved his lips.

I couldn’t see his screen from that angle, so whispered, “What’s happened?”

“I set off a google alert for Philippe’s name.” He tapped the screen. “Philippe de Connasse was arrested last night on suspicion of abduction.”

A thrill of triumph surged through my insides and exploded like a Roman skyrocket. “Where was it reported?”

“The Saturday Correspondent’s website.”

My jaw dropped. “Why would Jackie put something like that in the paper?”

“It’s actually a report on police brutality. They used excessive physical force when apprehending Philippe in their offices.”

“Good.” I leaned back in my seat and raised my head to feign attention to Miss Oakley’s lecture.

Jackie, the Saturday Correspondent’s editor-in-chief, had asked me last term to uncover the identity of Charlotte’s benefactor. But I had been too angry with her and Rudolph to do the paper any favors. What if she had been trying to warn me all this time that Rudolph was planning something too nefarious for her to stomach? I shook off those thoughts. If Jackie had been serious about warning me, she would have sent me more apparent clues.

The bell sounded, and Edward walked me to my next class, Creative Writing, which was located on the top floor in one of the classrooms by the atrium, a beautiful glass dome that opened up a shaft of sunlight that spread across the mezzanine and down to the ground floor.

As we strolled down the hallway toward the marble staircase, Edward placed a hand on the small of my back. “Have you and Henry resolved your differences yet?”

I paused. So much had happened since Henry and I had discussed the events of the first term—the argument with Aunt Idette and Mr. Bourneville, visiting Peter Underwood in Brixton Prison, and the theft of Mrs. Carbuncle and subsequent raid on her house—it was hard to remember that we had spent time together mere days ago.

“Yes,” I said. “We kissed and made up.”

His brows drew together. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“I am…”

It took a while to put the words together. The kidnapping incident was in the past. I’d resented him the most because he was the only member of the triumvirate I’d fallen for before the betrayal. He hadn’t redeemed himself in my second term due to the pact he had made with his friends and accomplices. Something else still niggled.

“Have you met Mr. Bourneville?” I asked.

“I have.” Edward’s tone was biting.

“He’s a bully.”

“I concur.”

“Why can’t Henry stand up to him? Last term, you three defended yourselves against homophobic attacks and slurs, but he didn’t argue back against his father and aunt’s accusations.”

As we ascended the first flight of marble stairs, I told him my theory about his Aunt Idette, and how she had probably poisoned Mr. Bourneville’s mind.