Mrs. Richardson was unimpressed. “Detective Inspector Holland is my neighbor. He told me what happened yesterday, and that he was able to let you go with only a warning. But you may not be so fortunate in the future.”
Phoebe bowed her head in what must have appeared to be remorse but was actually relief. Mrs. Richardson didn’t knowabout the duke then. Phoebe supposed she should thank the inspector for that little bit of discretion.
“I know you are concerned about Miss Clarke,” she continued, her tone gentling. “But the inspector assured me he is looking into it.”
A scoff escaped Phoebe’s lips and her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You know the inspector far better than I do. I’m sure he is doing everything he can.”
Mrs. Richardson gave her an arch look. “He is. Now you must leave him to his work so you can focus on your own. Make sure you aren’t seen in that tenement house again.” She then dismissed Phoebe with a wave of her hand.
Phoebe left before she could get into any more trouble. She found Marion in her empty classroom eating the remainder of her luncheon and correcting what looked like ghastly algebra homework.
“Mrs. Richardson knows,” Phoebe said without preamble as she entered the room.
Marion glanced up and furrowed her brow. “Knows what?” As understanding dawned, she took on a look of horror that would have been funny under different circumstances. “Sheknows?”
Phoebe nodded and began to pace in front of Marion’s desk. They only had a few minutes before her class returned. Marion sat back in her chair. “Goodness, you’re lucky she didn’t sack you on the spot!”
Teachers were supposed to conduct themselves according to the school’s strict moral code at all times—or at least have the good sense not to get caught. They weren’t supposed to be carted off to Bow Street in the middle of a Sunday, and they mostcertainlyweren’t supposed to be rescued by a bachelor duke.
“For now,” Phoebe added ominously. At Marion’s confused look, she winced. “There’s a tiny,tinydetail I neglected to mention yesterday.”
“Oh God,” her friend muttered.
“When the constable arrived I panicked a bit and mentioned the name of an old family friend…”
Marion eyed her with suspicion. “And?”
“And he came down to the station—”
“He?” Marion nearly fell out of her chair.
“Yes. He. More specifically, the Duke of Ellis,” she said in a rush.
“You know aduke?” Marion squeaked, and Marion hadneversqueaked before.
This was exactly the kind of reaction Phoebe had wished to avoid. Marion was now staring at her as if she had sprouted a pair of angel’s wings.
“He wasn’t always a duke,” she said, only just a little defensively. “He was our neighbor growing up. And back then he was just a man. Well, not amanman. He was mostly a boy when I knew him best,” Phoebe corrected, but she was blathering on and Marion only looked more and more confused. “The point is, he came to the station and asked the inspector to release me into his care.”
“Don’t tell me youleftwith him.”
Phoebe hadn’t known it was possible for a person’s eyes to grow so large. “He insisted on taking me home, but I made him drop me off a block away.”
“Well, at least you were discreet,” Marion said dryly.
“I know how it looks, but the inspector didn’t mention him to the headmistress.”
Yet.
Marion mulled this over. “You aren’t… involved with him, are you?”
Phoebe blinked. “Who? The duke?”
Marion rolled her eyes. “No, the postman, you goose.”
“Of course not,” Phoebe said far too sharply. “What wouldIwant with a duke?”
As if it were even an option.
