“If you have what he wants, then he will stop at nothing to get it.”
“I would protect the girls with my life. I cannot let him breach the school.”
“I would prefer that Holt does not reach you, myself,” he said, “by learning what he wants, and by stopping whatever he intends to do with it.”
“Where will you stand if I am part of that?” she demanded. “If you discover I am more than merely a target?”
“Then,” he said evenly, “we will both have difficult decisions to make.”
She studied him for a long moment. “So Holt has what you seek, and he believes I have the key to the code he needs,” she said finally.
“Something of that nature,” he said quietly. “I believe he has stolen a ledger written with a cipher that was created by your husband. I intend to find it before he finds the key.”
“What will you do if I possess this key—or, indeed, if I do not?”
“I mean you no harm as long as you do not intend England harm.”
“I assure you I would never do harm to my country! Everything Charles worked for was for England’s good.”
A flicker of something—admiration, perhaps—passed across his face before he masked it.
“Then,” he said, “we may yet prevail.”
Elise opened the gate and stepped inside. She paused, hand still on the latch.
“You will not tell anyone what you saw tonight?” she asked.
“I will not,” he replied, “unless it becomes necessary.”
She frowned. “Necessary for whom?”
“For you,” he said.
She shook her head. “You are impossible.”
“I am told so often.”
“Consider the matter. Perhaps we can help each other.”
She turned away then, walking up the path toward the house. She did not look back, but she felt his gaze upon her until she reached the door.
Inside, the school was quiet, and safe—for now. They went to their rooms, where Elise closed her door and leaned against it, her heart racing.
She had meant to uncover Holt. Instead, she had uncovered something far more unsettling: a man who watched her as both suspect and something to be protected. A man who knew too much, revealed too little, and yet had deliberately placed himself between her and danger.
She did not know whether Mr. Leigh would prove to be her greatest ally—or the gravest threat she had yet faced. In the morning she must go to Blake and seek his advice on whether Mr. Leigh was to be trusted.
The morning broke cool and crisp, the sea winds biting after a clear night. Elise crossed the courtyard with her usual brisk step, the hem of her grey gown catching a stray leaf or two as she went. The girls—those lively, disorderly, well-meaning creatures—were already assembled in the east hall, their chatter echoing down the corridor.
Jane met her at the door, flushed with the effort of imposing order.
“They are yours now, Elise,” she whispered in an exhausted tone, as though handing over a regiment rather than a classroom of schoolgirls.
“Very well,” Elise murmured, pressing a steadying hand to the other woman’s arm. “Just the time for decorum.” However, her mind was racing with thoughts of getting away to see Blake.
Miss Archer managed a thin smile and retreated, leaving Elise to face her small army alone.
“Ladies,” she said gently.
