“Good day, ladies.” Another leg, and Revelstoke turned to go.
Polly watched his solitary retreat down the hallway, her heart clenching. She heard the front door close, and, numbly, allowed Rosie to pull her back into the library. The muffled sound of Ambrose and his partners conferring filtered through the wall.
“Can youbelievewhat just happened?” Though hushed, Rosie’s tone vibrated with outrage.
Polly moistened her lips. “I don’t think the earl is capable of such a despicable act, but I—”
“Of course he isn’t! I’m an excellent judge of character, and I can tell you Revelstoke would never hurt a woman,” Rosie said fiercely. “He savedmy life. What flummoxes me is the fact that Papa didn’t even give him a chance.”
“Ambrose is afraid of making matters worse for the earl. Besides, his conclusion is based on evidence—on the victim’s testimony.” Yet Polly just couldn’t imagine Revelstoke being a brute toward women; if anything, the man was a Casanova. “Unless… do you think Miss French could be lying?”
“I’d wager my pin money on it. If there were only some way we could convince Papa of the fact…” Rosie’s gaze widened.
Polly frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you are my dearest sister and most bosom companion. I would do anything for you—and you’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
Comprehension hit her with the force of a hammer. “You can’t mean—”
“I won’t ask you for another favor for the rest of mylifeif you’ll help me prove to Papa that Revelstoke is telling the truth.Please, Pols,”—Rosie’s hands clasped as if in prayer—“you’re my only hope.”
Chapter Thirteen
Three days later, Polly stood in the aisle of a sun-filled classroom, which bore the pleasant scents of beeswax polish and fresh ink. A field of children surrounded her, their bright heads bobbing over their desks. As nibs scratched diligently against paper, Polly found her thoughts wandering. Her visits to the Hunt Academy for Foundlings typically absorbed her full attention, but today was no normal day.
It had begun with Rosie cornering her in her room after breakfast.
“Everything is set,” her sister had said excitedly. “Today we carry out our plan!”
Polly bit her lip. “So many things could go wrong—”
“We’ve gone through this before. In order to interview Miss French and get proof that she’s lying, we need to be free of chaperonage. Your visit to the Hunt Academy today will provide the perfect opportunity.”
Although a chaperone or maid always accompanied Polly to the school, during the visits she moved about as she pleased, helping the children with various activities. The Academy was home to more than a hundred children, milling around in over a dozen classrooms, so she had ample opportunity to slip out without anyone noticing.
“Given that the Academy is a mere two blocks away from Miss French’s address on Castle Street, ’tis as if we were destined for the undertaking,” Rosie went on gleefully. “The trickiest part will be gettingmefree. I vow Mama watches me like a hawk.”
“I wonder why.”
Rosie rolled her eyes. “We can’tallbe paragons.”
“I’m not a paragon,” Polly protested. “I’ve just never had a reason to get into trouble.”
Until Revelstoke came along, her inner voice reminded her, and guilt flickered.
“AsI was saying, it would rouse suspicion if I suddenly developed a fondness for foundlings when I never have before.” Rosie tapped her chin. “So I’ll just fake a megrim this afternoon and come out to meet you. What could go wrong?”
Only about a million things, Polly thought now.Why on earth did I agree to this?
It was a rhetorical question because she knew why. Part of the reason had to do with Rosie. She found it difficult to refuse her sister in the first place, and, after the wrong she’d done, the least she could do was agree to the other’s entreaty. But the more compelling reason, she admitted, was her debt to Revelstoke.
She’d misjudged him horribly. In truth, she was guilty of judging him harshly and unfairly—the very thing she’d condemned him for all these months. She’d believed he’d denigrated her because she was a wallflower when, in fact, he’d beendefendingher. She was the one who’d jumped to conclusions about him because he was a rake. The truth was shameful and humbling.
But now it was in her power to help him. To protect an innocent man—which her gut told her he was—from a terrible accusation.
“Um, Miss Kent? I’m finished.”
The timid voice penetrated Polly’s tumultuous thoughts. Seeing the freckled, brown-haired girl who had an ink-smudged hand shyly raised, she put a lid on her thoughts. It wasn’t right to neglect her charges just because she was about to participate in the most risky, hare-brained scheme of her life.
