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a savior.”
    “The man is a thief,” the vicar reminded her gently.
    “How can you say that? You of all people must see what he’s done for—”
    “You needn’t defend him to me, Snowdrop. I bless the man each and every day. Still, facts are facts. And, in answer to your earlier question, the Earl of Gantry’s diamond cuff link was found in the tin cup placed upon Viscount Druige’s pillow—a tin cup that was identical to the one placed on the desk of the Worsley headmaster.”
    “Just as always—a jewel from the previous theft left at the scene of the crime. Two identical tin cups, one at the crime, one at the chosen workhouse.” Daphne glowed. “The bandit is brilliant. Not to mention generous and crafty. And I, for one, hope the authorities never catch him. I can hardly wait to read of their stupefaction in this morning’s newspaper.”
    “Can you contain yourself long enough to distribute your treasures?” the vicar chuckled, coming to a halt before the village school. “The children are eager to see you.”
    “Oh! I didn’t realize we’d arrived.” Daphne scurried forward to peek through the window. “They appear to be immersed in their studies,” she murmured, her voice laden with disappointment. “Does that mean we must delay our visit?”
    “Miss Redmund, their teacher, is expecting us. I suspect she’ll be more than delighted to abandon her lessons.” Scowling, the vicar knocked, leaving Daphne no opportunity to question his apparent disapproval of the school mistress.
    “Yes? What is it?”
    Seeing the tight-lipped woman who filled the doorway with her ample presence, Daphne’s questions vanished.
    “Oh, pardon me. ’Tis you, Vicar. Come in.” Miss Redmund’s frigid tone was as unappealing as her demeanor. Stiffly, she stepped aside, gesturing for the vicar to enter.
    Her reproachful gaze fell on Daphne.
    “Miss Redmund,” the vicar interjected, guiding Daphne ahead of him. “May I present Lady Daphne Wyndham.”
    Miss Redmund’s frosty stare became positively glacial.
    “Wyndham? Are you, perchance, related to the Marquis of Tragmore?”
    Daphne raised her chin. “The marquis is my father.”
    “Look around if you wish, but I’ll save you the trouble. If one of your tenants’s children is missing, he isn’t here.”
    “Pardon me?”
    “I assume your father sent you. Tell him there’s no need. I haven’t allowed anyone from Tragmore into this school since the marquis ordered me not to. Much as I dislike teaching these ruffians, I need my position. So assure your father I’m adhering to his wishes.”
    “Miss Redmund,” the vicar began.
    With a gentle shake of her head, Daphne silenced her friend. She understood the significance of the school mistress’s assumption—as well as her father’s tactics—only too well.
    “I’m not here as my father’s messenger, Miss Redmund,” she refuted, trying to keep the quaver from her voice. “Were I to have my way, all the children living at Tragmore would be among your students. Unfortunately, I have no say in my father’s decisions.” Tentatively, she held out her basket. “However, I am trying to make a difference, in whatever small ways I can. If you’ll allow me, I’ve brought the children some food and clothing.”
    “Oh.” Miss Redmund’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I see. Well, naturally I assumed…Forgive my impertinence, my lady.” The flabby cheeks lifted in a more cordial, if not actually warm, welcome. “Come in.” She turned, her voluptuous bosom nearly knocking Daphne to the floor. “Children, we have guests.”
    Two dozen pairs of curious eyes stared at Daphne.
    “If we’re interrupting your lesson—” Daphne began.
    “Nonsense,” the teacher broke in hastily, as relieved by the interruption as Chambers had predicted. “Put your slates away, children. The vicar has arrived. And he’s brought a very special visitor, Lady Daphne Wyndham. Say how do you do to Lady Daphne and