Page 93 of Rules for Ruin

“It’s no matter.” Effie resumed sewing. “There is nothing you know about me that cannot be shared.” Her needle flashed through the cloth. “Miss Corvus, on the other hand, is another matter.”

“You need not remind me of that.”

“I hope I needn’t. She wouldn’t be as sanguine about her confidences being shared as I have been.”

Lady Belwood drew herself up with dignity. “You may believe, Miss Flite, that I have never mentioned that woman’s name.” She abruptly stood. “I would thank you to do me the same courtesy.”

Effie glanced after Lady Belwood as she stalked from the room.

Did Miss Corvus know of her ladyship’s connection to Lord Compton? That it was she who had put him in the way of a wealthy heiress?

Effie riffled through her embroidery bag. She had several uncompleted samplers remaining. Given the variety of things she’d learned, perchance she’d have to send them all.

• • •

Tuesday arrived with unusual rapidity. Effie departed that morning for Hertfordshire, clad in her black dress and veiled bonnet, as anonymous as a widow. It was but an hour by train. Plenty of time for apprehension to grow.

Despite what she’d told Gabriel, she wasn’t happy to be making the journey alone. Just once, it would be nice to have someone at her side, especially now when she was so anxious and uncertain.

Mrs. Young might tell her anything.

Or next to nothing.

Either way, it would be one enormous step further than the ignorance Effie had endured all her life. Years and years spent dreaming, imagining a mother who had loved her. A mother who had only given her up because she’d believed Effie would have a better life in an orphanage somewhere, surrounded by strangers, than she’d have if she remained in the Rookery.

Her mother had been wrong.

There was no substitute for the connection one had to one’s family. That innate sense of belonging to someone that Effie had always felt lacking. It was why she had rebelled against Miss Corvus. Why she had, for so long, desired to return to that elusive someplace of her childhood. A place beyond conscious memory.

Goodness, what if her mother was still alive? Or worse—what if she had died in reduced circumstances, never knowing Effie had wanted to find her?

By the time she arrived at Sawbridgeworth, Effie had fretted herself into a headache. The train slowed with a grinding scrape of metal and a blast of steam. The conductor shouted unintelligibly as it came to a jolting halt.

Outside the window, the timber-built station came into view. Effie waited for the other passengers in the second-class carriage to disembark before she collected her parasol and rose to exit herself.

The wind whipped at her skirts as she emerged onto the platform. She was assailed by the smell of coal dust and hot metal, and the cacophony of overlapping voices. The whistle blew, and the porters called out to the stragglers. There weren’t many to speak of, only a handful of ladies in full-skirted dresses and large shawls, and a few gentlemen in coats and caps. They brushed by, as some boarded the train and others departed.

Effie looked about from behind the veil of her bonnet. She was just turning to join the line at the cabstand, when she spied a familiar gentleman standing near the ticket office. His hat was pulled down over his brow, his black wool overcoat stirring in the gritty wind.

A surge of joy flooded through her.

It was Gabriel.

She took a hasty step forward, thinking of nothing but her desire to see him again. He closed the remaining distance. They faced each other amid the smoke and the steam.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Gabriel removed his hat. He was quiet a moment, his pale blue gaze scanning her face through her veil. “I thought you might be in need of support.”

Her throat tightened. “But I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” he said. “That was in London. This is Hertfordshire.”

In other circumstances, Effie might have laughed at the nonsensical distinction. After recent events, she felt more like weeping.

He couldn’t be here. This part of her life was private. She dare not let him in. Not when she couldn’t trust him.

But she wanted him so much in that moment.