Page 51 of Revenge

I bit back a smile. A committee of auditors had convened over the weekend to investigate the accusations, and by Monday, Charlotte’s Father had already been suspended pending the results of an inquiry. A video of the Prime Minister’s statement to the press on the subject was circulated on the Mercia-Net. And the best part was that Charlotte had disappeared from the campus.

“What do you think I should do?” he asked.

A bolt of excitement struck my chest, and I tried to keep still. Now was the time to persuade him to hand over those files.

“Did you read through those papers the headmaster sent?” I asked.

“I started to, but I can’t make sense out of them.”

“Oh, no.” I wrapped an arm around his middle and squeezed. As much as I wanted to remind him about Marissa’s supposed services, I couldn’t afford to arouse his suspicion with a lack of subtlety. “Mr. Chaloner must have presented the information in a way that couldn’t be understood by a student.”

With a long sigh, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer into his body. “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”

My eyes fluttered closed. Edward didn’t have Henry’s size and bulk, but his athletic frame and dizzying cedar-wood and cypress scent made my hands twitch to explore him. He placed a kiss on my forehead and murmured something about appreciating my support.

Warmth spread across my insides. The complaints I had asked Alice to start up against the International House were now flooding the Mercia-Net, giving Jackie and her team ample material for a sensational article and putting a reasonable amount of pressure on Edward.

He didn’t ask me for any other advice on that evening, but over the next few days, I sat by Edward’s side whenever I could, offering my silent support and encouraging him to read through the papers again or to ask his butler to help.

As more video clips of the louts of International House reached the Mercia-Net, Edward withdrew more into himself and skipped meals on the pretext of studying. I wondered if this was how Rita had felt when she had stopped going to the dining room. Hopefully the turmoil he was suffering matched hers.

The next Saturday, the Correspondent printed the photos I had taken of Nadia’s exam papers along with snippets from the Mercia-Net of students, recognizable in our school blazers, lounging in front of International House, drinking beer and cigarettes. It was accompanied by an article explaining that their entire GCSE curriculum was based on getting the students to learn the questions on the exam paper.

The article concluded that there was no evidence that domestic students had received such an example, but the reporter cited the school’s stellar exam results and demanded an inquiry.

When I reached the dining room, students crowded around the head table, demanding answers. I walked around to my side of the table. Blake and Henry were seated on Edward’s left and right, telling people to back off.

Edward sat on his seat with the air of a disdainful king looking down on his subjects. His facial expression and posture broadcasted his confidence, but the darkened circles under his eyes spoke of a boy who had spent many sleepless nights wrestling with the problem.

I straightened and sucked in a deep breath. It was time for me to put on the performance of a lifetime.

“What’s wrong with you all?” I snapped.

The crowd’s attention turned to me, and a boy at the back of the crowd sneered, “Stay out of this, Hobson.”

“If you have questions about International House, take them up with the headmaster or the board of governors. Edward’s an A-Level student whose family happens to own the estate. He doesn’t owe any of you an explanation!”

“She’s right,” said Henry. “Take your complaints elsewhere.”

Most of the people crowding the head table walked away. I glanced at Edward, whose shoulders relaxed. I supposed years of acting like he owned the academy instead of its grounds, had caused people to believe he had the power to do anything, including fixing the problem with International House. He had certainly used that illusion of power to incite the students to victimize others, and now it was backfiring on him.

On Monday, Edward wasn’t at breakfast, but someone had placed a pile of clippings from prominent British newspapers at his place setting. Each had picked up the Correspondent’s story and were demanding to know what had happened to Mercia Academy.

I leaned into Henry. “Where’s Edward?”

“Gone to see the headmaster,” he murmured. “Poor chap hasn’t slept a wink since the story about International House broke out. Somehow, he thinks the blame will fall onto him.”

“Why?”

“Who do you think authorized the use of that empty building during the duke’s absence? It’s all gone horribly wrong, and now the whole country knows.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth and widened my eyes to appear shocked. With this kind of pressure on him to provide answers, Edward might get desperate enough to give me the file of transactions to pass onto Marissa. “Poor Edward.”

Henry gave me a solemn nod. “The past few years have been so hard on him.”

I buttered a slice of toast and hummed my agreement. Decent people under pressure didn’t lash out at vulnerable students and recruit others make their lives hell. I didn’t know how this problem would unfold over the next few days, but it was bringing me closer to my goal. Once I got the evidence that the headmaster had received payments from international crooks, Rudolph would pay for my flight home, and I’d be back in Park Prep.

At second break, I knocked on the door to Edward’s study.