"I-" Frankie shook her head slightly as if to clear it, and then began again. "You chose to stay here for a month because of me?"

Henry and Adam exchanged a glance. "We couldn't leave you here," Henry said with a shrug.

"But what about school?" Frankie pressed.

"I have some textbooks in my bag," Henry said, frowning. "I suppose we could try to keep up with the reading."

"Blimey, I sure am glad you brought those textbooks now," Adam said with a snort.

Frankie grinned, and then noticed Henry's scowl. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Does anyone know you're here?" Henry asked.

"No!" Frankie retorted. "Did you tell anyone where you were going?"

"Actually, yes," Henry admitted.

"Rohan," Frankie guessed.

Henry nodded.

"Professor Stratford?" Frankie continued. "Anyone else?"

"Well," Adam hedged. "Derrick. And Valmont."

"You told Valmont?"

"It's complicated," Henry muttered.

"What's complicated about it?" Frankie accused. "You chose to be friends with him and pushed me away for no reason."

"Then why am I here now?" Henry challenged. "Why did I jump off a blasted moving train to spend a month polishing boots in the Nordlands?"

Frankie turned crimson. "Sorry," she murmured.

"I jumped off a moving train too," Adam put in.

"Ooh, aren't you a gallant young knight," Frankie taunted.

"Shhh!" Henry said, glancing around. "We shouldn't talk like that here. It isn't safe."

"I should get to bed anyhow," Frankie said. "We can talk in the morning. I don't think it would draw any suspicion ... unless it's improper?"

"It isn't," Henry confirmed. "The serving cla.s.s do as they wish, at least back home. But it wouldn't hurt for us to make certain we know the customs here."

"I'll see you in the morning," Frankie said primly, heading back in the direction of the servants' quarters.

"Er," Henry said pointedly.

"What?" Frankie asked.

"Boys' bedchamber is just across the way from the girls'," Henry said.

At this a slight blush colored Frankie's cheeks. "Well, come on," she snapped.

At the top of the stairs she regarded the two boys thoughtfully. "Servants can do as they wish?" she questioned.

Henry nodded.

Frankie gave each of them a quick hug. "Thank you for coming back for me," she whispered before darting into the girls' bedchamber.

Adam stood there, grinning ear to ear.

"Wipe that grin off your face and come on," Henry said.

"Did you know," Adam said thoughtfully as Henry forcibly steered him into the boys' bedchamber, "that girls don't wear corsets in the Nordlands?"

"I'd imagine not. It must be impossible to scrub floors if you can hardly breathe," Henry returned, and then he realized that Adam had been talking about Frankie. He blushed, but thankfully, it was quite dark inside the boys' bedchamber.

By the small amount of light that spilled in from the hallway from a low-turned gas jet, they changed into the nightshirts Garen had provided for them. The other boys were already asleep, the room buzzing with their soft snores and the occasional cough or sniffle.

Henry was exhausted, but even long after Adam's snores joined the rest, he stared up at the low ceiling, unable to sleep.

Somehow he'd wound up back in the attics, a serving boy at a posh boys' school. He wondered if he'd ever have the chance to be a student at Knightley again, or if the opportunity had rushed past him, like a missed train.

And then he wondered why his heart had lurched at the thought of Frankie being left alone in the Nordlands-why he'd leapt off the train to stay with her. And finally he wondered after the strange happenings he'd noticed in the Nordlands. The propaganda-filled newspapers, the missing servants, the beds that spooked the other boys.

Perhaps they could redeem themselves after all-return to Knightley triumphant, having successfully rescued Frankie, and bringing with them the evidence that would prevent a war, or at least help everyone prepare for one.

21.

THE UNCLAIMED LUGGAGE.

Rohan woke on Monday morning with a start. He listened to the peal of bells, feeling as though he'd fallen asleep waiting for something, and was waiting still.

And then he glanced toward the two empty beds and tried very hard not to panic. Henry and Adam had been due to return the night before. He'd tried to wait up for them but had fallen asleep.

Their absence threw him. Had something happened?

Rohan dressed quickly and sat with James at chapel, trying to ignore the questioning glances from Derrick and Valmont. Did they know? Apparently so, as both boys ambushed him the moment the service ended.

"What's happened?" Derrick asked.

"I don't know," Rohan said tersely.

"Maybe the envoy is late," Valmont said.

"How the devil did you get involved in this?" Derrick asked Valmont.

"I might ask you the same," Valmont returned.

"Be involved in it together, then," Rohan said. "I wanted nothing to do with it from the beginning." And with that he quickened his pace toward the dining hall.

Even though saying that Henry and Adam hadn't gotten up for chapel and were currently indisposed wasn't truly a lie, Rohan still felt as though it were. It wasn't until whispers started circulating that the search had been called off for the headmaster's daughter that Rohan decided to abandon his self-imposed silence.

He approached Derrick and Conrad after languages that afternoon.

"Want to know how we did on the midterm?" Conrad asked, as they had just gotten their marked translations back at the end of the lesson.

"No," Rohan said. "I, well, I've been hearing whispers that they've found news of Miss Winter."

"So have we," Derrick said.

"Well, do you know anything more about it?" Rohan pressed.

"Not a thing," Derrick said. "It's servants' gossip anyhow. But if I were you, I'd be concerned with your roommates. They can't stay ill forever."

"I told them I wasn't a part of this," Rohan muttered.

"No use bemoaning it now," Derrick scolded. "Man up."

Man up? Rohan thought bitterly. And do what? Confess to Lord Havelock that he'd stood idly by while his roommates ran off to the Nordlands?

Well, he reasoned, it was a servants' envoy. If anyone would know whether the envoy had come back the night before, it was the servants. Rohan shouldered his bag with a sigh and headed in the direction of the kitchens.

"Where are you going?" a voice drawled. Valmont leaned casually against the wall, a cold smile playing over his face.

"To the WC, if you don't mind," Rohan snapped.

"Wrong direction," Valmont said, his smile stretching wider.

Rohan glared.

"The way I see it," Valmont continued, unruffled, "is that we've both been left with a rather unpleasant mess to clean up. I'd prefer we handled it together, if that's all right with you."

Rohan considered the proposition. It was a bit of a sticky situation, and he could do worse than ally himself with Lord Havelock's ward and nephew.

"Come on," he said finally.

Valmont fell into step. It didn't dawn on him where they were headed until Rohan paused at the top of a servants' staircase. "Keep your opinions to yourself, if you don't mind," Rohan snapped.

"Suits me," Valmont said coolly.

The kitchen was bustling, with the staff already hard at work preparing supper. A few serving boys and maids glanced up when Rohan and Valmont appeared in the doorway. "Er, excuse me," Rohan tried, a bit nervously. He'd never ventured to the kitchens by himself, and rarely accompanied Henry and Adam, who were veterans at coaxing biscuits and tarts out of the softhearted maids.

"Yes, sir?" one of the newer maids said, flouncing over and bobbling a curtsy. "Anythin' I can 'elp with?"

Rohan shot Valmont a warning glance. "Er, is Liza here?" he inquired.

The maid t.i.ttered.

Rohan turned crimson at the silent insinuation. "Just fetch her, will you?" he ordered imperiously.

"No need fer that, deary," Liza said, sauntering over as she dried her hands on a tea towel. "I'm here now." She stared at the boys, as though expecting a bow, but that would have been absurd, Rohan reasoned. He was the son of a duke, and he had no call to humble himself in the presence of school servants.

"Has the envoy returned?" Rohan demanded.

Liza pressed her lips together and continued drying her hands on the ragged tea towel.

"It's rather important," Rohan continued. "You see, my friends were on it-and they've left me in quite a pickle this af-"

"Come with me," Liza interrupted, seizing Rohan by the sleeve and towing him into the hallway. Valmont followed, snickering at the injustice.

"Now listen 'ere," she scolded, poking him in the chest with a finger. "Yeh can be polite about comin' down where yeh aren't wanted nor allowed an' demandin' answers."

Rohan blanched, and then with a sigh he favored the maid with a stiff bow. "My apologies, madam," he tried. "I'm quite out of sorts this afternoon. You see, my roommates are missing."

Liza, who'd been mollified by the bow and flowery language, suddenly paled. "Whatchoo mean, missing?"

"They've yet to return," Rohan clarified.

"But the envoy came back las' night," Liza said.

"Without them?" Rohan pressed.

Liza shrugged. "No one much noticed nothin' besides the carpetbag."

"The carpetbag?"

"Found it back in the storage car, they did. Full o' the belongings o' one Francesca Winter."

"What?" Rohan thundered.

"Shouldn't a told yeh that." Liza sulked. "The 'ead-master don't want it gettin' out."

"Wait, I don't understand," Rohan said, frowning. "So where's Fra-er, Miss Winter?"

"Either she stowed away on that train fer two days an' then hopped off in the city with them fancy lords, or ..."

"Or?" Rohan urged.