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Chasity drew in a shaky breath. Everything was falling apart. “My friends were in the garden as well, and taking the air with Mr. Terramier is hardly scandalous or a dalliance.”

That kiss was, but no one had seen it.

Nausea roiled in her stomach.

Had they?

No, she was sure of it.

This was nothing more than a jealous woman’s revenge.

If Mrs. Crenshaw couldn’t have Aston, she’d make sure Chasity couldn’t either and that her reputation was destroyed to boot. Chasity had been right all along. Those speculative covert glances Mrs. Crenshaw had turned on her these past months were more than disapproving. There’d been malice and calculation disguised in the depths too.

Mr. Bramblefink and Mr. Potterburger finished examining Aston’s employment folder.

“I see nothing out of the ordinary,” Mr. Bramblefink said. “There isn’t a contract with the terms you have suggested, Miss Noble.”

Lady Balderbrook sniffed disdainfully. “I think it is clear to us all what must be done. I had such high hopes for you, Miss Noble. What a disappointment you’ve turned out to be. It all comes down to breeding in the end, doesn’t it? You simply cannot make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, even if the sow is a pretty sow with pretty manners.”

Had she really just compared Chasity to a pig? A pretty pig?

Lady Balderbrook turned her back and walked to the window, where she idly fingered the fringe on her reticule.

“Miss Noble, you are dismissed without reference,” Mr. Potterburger said in the same tone one shooed a stray dog from a bakery.

Though she had expected it, Chasity winced as if struck.

Why did the wicked always prevail?

For the life of her, she could not call forth an appropriate scripture to seize onto for strength and comfort as she normally did when distraught. Anger such as she’d never known sluiced through her veins at the injustice, and she fisted her hands lest she slap the smirk off of Mrs. Crenshaw’s face.

God help me, I know it’s wrong, but I despise her.

She’d ask for forgiveness later when her anger had cooled and common sense had returned—in a month or six.

Unable to keep the victory from her tone, Mrs. Crenshaw pointed to the door. “Pack your belongings and depart Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies within the hour.”

“I am owed wages.” Chasity would need every cent until she procured new employment. She had her small savings, but the funds wouldn’t last long after paying for lodgings, fuel, and other necessities. Even if she economized, six months was all the longer she could survive without income.

For she’d already decided she couldn’t return to Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women. Mercy had left for the country this morning, and Chasity had no idea where Joy was staying in London. Besides, she had too much pride to impose upon either newlywed.

“What audacity!” Lady Balderbrook spun to face her, fairly vibrating in righteous outrage. “Consider your wages partial payment for the funds you cannot account for, and consider yourself fortunate that we don’t bring charges against you. I would personally see to it that you never worked in London again, but I shall not besmirch Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies with such ignominy. Leave before I change my mind and have you arrested!”

In a daze, her mind reeling, Chasity turned toward the door.

Staying and fighting would prove useless. Her only thought at this moment was to escape. In case her ladyship did change her mind and had her arrested.

God help me.

A sharp rap echoed at the door, but Aston shoved the panel open before the headmistress bid entry. He wore the same clothes he’d worn to tea, only now they were rumpled. Dark circles framed his coffee-brown eyes, and stubble shadowed his angular jaw. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

“Chasity?” His attention veered to those behind her.

She forced her gaze to meet his. Great, hot tears pooled in her eyes, but she would not cry in front of these horrid, evil people, by all that was holy. They would not have that victory.

“You’re too late,” she managed on a strangled croak before fleeing the room.

After much prayer and consideration, I believe you should be aware that the Rt. Hon. Martin Oxley-Norton called last week. He’s a British diplomat and claims to be your father. He says he only became aware of your existence because the Duke of Monteagle recently died. A journal was discovered, which also contained unopened letters from Mr. Oxley-Norton to Lady Audrey Blankenly. She was the Duke of Monteagle’s eldest daughter, and according to Mr. Oxley-Norton, they were secretly wed before he was sent as an Envoy to Sweden.