everyone know what’s coming. Sometimes the hardest thing isn’t making people believe what they don’t want to believe, but whom they don’t want to believe.”

Henry smiled sadly.

Professor Stratford, who always sounded as though he was quoting, who had risked his job so Henry could attend Knightley, who had been the closest thing to family Henry had known, was leaving.

“I don’t want you to go,” Henry said.

“Everything will turn out all right,” Professor Stratford said bravely.

“What about Frankie?” Adam pressed.

The professor winced and looked away.

“What?” Henry asked.

“She’ll be going away to school,” Professor Stratford said.

“She hated that school,” Henry protested. “And I don’t blame her; it sounded horrible.”

“Actually, Lady Winter has arranged for Frankie to attend a reformatory in the Alpine Mountains.”

“A reformatory?” Henry repeated, stunned.

“In the Alpine Mountains?” Adam echoed.

Professor Stratford nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“But Frankie doesn’t belong at a reformatory,” Henry cried. “The girls who go to places like that have done terrible things! It’s hardly better than a jail!”

Professor Stratford shook his head. “In Lady Winter’s opinion, it is the only option they have not tried. Frankie leaves in three days. They are arranging her passage as we speak.”

Henry and Adam exchanged a horrified look.

Frankie was really going off to a foreign reform school. Professor Stratford was fired. Rohan was expelled. And they were the last two standing, but not for much longer, if the board of trustees had anything to say about it.

“Don’t despair,” Professor Stratford said. “Find whatever happiness you have left and hold on to it, do you hear me?”

Henry nodded. Adam bit his lip and tucked his hands into his pockets.

“I’ll try,” Henry said bravely. “I’ll try to fix this. After all, there’s nothing left to lose, is there?”

Professor Stratford smiled crookedly. “That’s the spirit.”

And with a tearful round of good-byes, Henry and Adam left Professor Stratford and his half-packed suitcase, trying to find the tiniest pinpoint of happiness in that disaster of a week.

Henry fell asleep still trying.

***

“Still here, then?” Theobold asked at chapel the next morning.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Henry returned.

“No reason,” Theobold said, turning back around in the pew with a knowing smirk.

“I really hate him,” Adam whispered.

Henry rolled his eyes in agreement.

And just then, the priest launched into a not-very-subtle sermon on the virtues of keeping a good reputation.

Henry headed for the kitchen after chapel with an odd sense of déjà vu. After all, there he was once again in the halls of a boys’ school, forbidden from attending class with the other students.

“This is just like that night we snuck down here for strawberry tarts,” Adam said, pushing open the door to the kitchen.

Well, that was one way of thinking about it.

The kitchen was boiling, and Henry immediately began to sweat beneath his tightly buttoned collar and tie.

The cook, a man as wide as the stove, whistled as he scrambled a massive pan of eggs. In the corner by the crockery, a group of maids were setting up the tea services for professors who had elected to take that morning’s meal in their offices.

Their old friend Liza looked up from sorting a pile of silverware and grinned. “Well, if it isn’t Master Henry and Master Adam!”

“Hello,” Henry said, uncomfortably aware that every member of the serving staff was either obviously watching or obviously listening to this exchange.

“I tol’ Mary ’bout it bein’ you in the library that night,” Liza continued, wiping her hands on her apron. “An’ she laughed and laughed because she’d swore it was a ghost.”

“I did no such thing, Liza!” Mary protested from next to the china cupboard. “I was terrorfied, I was!”

“Right,” Henry said shyly.

In all the excitement of the past few weeks, he’d forgotten about Liza. But there she was, as cheerful as ever, and it made Henry feel guilty that he hadn’t even bothered to stop in and say hello.

“So wot brings the two o’ you to the kitchen this mornin’?” Liza asked.

Henry blushed. It seemed the rest of the kitchen staff was rather wondering the same thing. Two of the serving boys had given up all pretense of arranging the breakfast platters and instead were staring warily at Henry and Adam.

“Oh, er—,” Henry began.

“We’re in loads of trouble,” Adam said happily, unaffected by their audience. “Heaps. So we’re to eat breakfast in the kitchen today.”

“An’ they were going to tell us about this when?” Liza said angrily. “Well, come on, dearies, grab some toast and jam before the boys take ’em to the tables.”

Henry took a few slices of toast and began