playing cricket in the patchy sunlight.

“I know. I can’t believe he’s not going to tell Lord Havelock,” Henry said.

“I meant that Sir Frederick fed us, since we missed breakfast,” Adam replied. “Owww, don’t shove me, Frankie.”

“Sorry, I slipped.”

Rohan snorted. “Pity I missed the fencing,” he said. “It would have been immensely gratifying to see Adam run through with a sword.”

One of the boys playing cricket had put down his gear and was heading toward them. Because of the slant of the sunlight, Henry couldn’t tell who it was; it could have been anyone—not that anyone talked to them—but Henry had a sinking feeling.

Too late to turn and walk the other direction, they realized who it was: Valmont.

“Nice trousers,” Valmont said to Frankie with a disapproving frown. “It’s a shame you weren’t raised to behave decently. Haven’t you a mother who cares?”

“My mother’s dead,” Frankie said, clenching her fists, “as you soon will be.”

Valmont threw his head back and laughed.

“As if you could hurt a fly without sobbing into your little embroidered handkerchief about it,” he said, and then his eyes narrowed as he spotted the bandage on Adam’s arm.

Adam pushed his sleeve down over the bandage, but it was too late.

“You’ve been fencing,” Valmont accused, and then he put two and two together and his eyes widened. “You’ve been fencing a girl. And she hurt you. Oh, this is precious.”

“Keep your mouth shut, Valmont,” Henry said, at the same time Rohan said, “Sir Frederick was giving us an extra lesson in medicine. Adam isn’t hurt; he just forgot to take the bandage off.”

“Is that so?” Valmont asked, and then, without warning, his hand shot out and squeezed Adam’s bandage, hard.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Adam yelled. “I’m dying!”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Henry said.

“I won’t have to,” Valmont said. “I was just on my way to see Uncle Havelock. I wonder what he’ll think when I tell him you’ve broken into the armory?”

“It’s rather warm these days, isn’t it?” Frankie said suddenly.

Henry shot her a questioning glance, but Frankie merely smiled.

“So?” Valmont asked.

“Warm enough that you’d sleep with the windows open?”

“Maybe,” Valmont acknowledged warily.

“Well,” Frankie said. “Maybe I’m taking a walk around the quadrangle early one morning, and I see a wide open window at just the right height for me to wriggle inside and do terrible, terrible things to whomever I find there, fast asleep.”

Valmont gulped.

“But the window doesn’t need to be open,” Frankie continued with a grin. “I just wiggle my hairpin in that old lock and no one would ever know I’d been there until they woke.”

“You’d get …, ” Valmont began, and then stopped.

“What?” Frankie laughed. “In trouble? Why do you think I’m here, Valmont? Because I’m so much trouble that no school will have me. So think of the worst things that the worst boys ever did back at your baby secondary school, and know that I’ve done those things, and that I could do them to you, and there’s nothing anyone can do to punish me that I haven’t already had done to me a thousand times.”

Valmont glared. “You’re just a silly little girl,” he muttered.

“Even worse for you, then, because you’re scared of me,” Frankie said.

“I’m not scared,” Valmont said fiercely. “I’m just waiting until I can prove it. But I know you lot are up to something illicit, and when I have proof, you’ll be sorry.”

“And you’ll be sleeping in your own pee,” Frankie said with a snort. “All it takes is for me to put your hand into a cup of warm water when you’re asleep.”

“You are a horrible, filthy girl!” Valmont shouted.

The boys playing cricket looked up from their game to see what was going on.

“And your name on the Code of Chivalry is nothing more than an unwelcome stain, Fergus Valmont,” Henry spat. “Let’s go.”

A FRIEND IN THE LIBRARY

If Henry thought his first protocol lesson had been horrible, it was nothing compared to the second. On Tuesday afternoon, Professor Turveydrop made them stand in a long line and practice bowing to men of different stations.

“His Grace, the Duke,” Professor Turveydrop called, and the boys bowed as they would to a duke.

“Good, Mr. Mehta,” Professor Turveydrop cried. “And his lordship, Lord Someone-or-other.”

The boys bowed again, differently.

“Henry Grim!” Professor Turveydrop cried. “Is there a reason you’re bowing like that?”

Henry straightened, feeling his cheeks color.

“Like what, sir?”

“Like a servant bringing in the tea,” Professor Turveydrop said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The class died with laughter. Only Rohan, Adam, and quiet Edmund managed to keep