Page 64 of The Marriage Method

“I would insist upon it if I thought you would heed me. But you won’t, will you? You’ll honor this marriage out of some foolish sense of duty to the Academy, when all the while your heart is breaking.”

“It isn’t breaking.”

“Nell—”

“I won’t say I haven’t shed any tears, because I have. I didn’t wish to leave my position. The Academy is my home. It’s where I still long to be.” Nell huffed a sad little laugh at how pathetic she must sound. “I’m afraid I’ve not entirely come to terms with being cut adrift.”

Effie rested a consoling hand on hers. “Miss Corvus should never have asked you to go. She should have stood by you, come what may. Even if—”

“Even if her loyalty to me damaged the prospects of every other girl at the Academy? If it affected the teachers? If it ruined the school? No.” Nell shook her head. “You understand as well as I do why Miss Corvus acted as she did. We’d have done no differently in her place.”

“Perhaps not,” Effie admitted grudgingly. “That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

“If it helps, she’s indicated that I might eventually be permitted to return.”

“When?”

“Someday. When enough time has passed and the gossip has died down. She says I might teach again. Possibly even live there.”

Effie considered the prospect with a frown. “And Mr. Quincey doesn’t object.”

“No,” Nell said.

It wasn’t exactly true. She’d only asked Miles about the first part. The teaching part. She’d said nothing to him about returning to the Academy to live.

“Then all that’s left is to wait,” Effie said. “While you do…” She passed Nell the velvet box. “Perhaps this might cheer you.”

Nell opened the hinged lid. Inside, two gilded hairpins lay on a bed of green velvet. They were made in the shape of delicate golden butterflies. She caught her breath. “Oh, goodness.”

“I bought them for you at the same shop that made my dragonfly hairpins,” Effie said. “And look—” She removed one from the box, pressing a fingertip to the sturdy metal wires to illustrate their strength. “They’re perfect for lock-picking.”

“They are perfect,” Nell said. “Simply perfect.” She embraced Effie. “Thank you, my dear. You are too good.”

“Nonsense. It’s you who’s the good one. And with these, you shall be even better.” Effie squeezed her tight before releasing her. “No door will ever be locked to you again.”

“I shall wear them always,” Nell vowed.

“You can begin now.” Effie placed them in Nell’s hair for her, securing them in the roll at her nape. “Lady Belwood notices outward appearances. If we’re to call on her, yours must be comme il faut.”

“I wasn’t aware you were still in contact with her ladyship,” Nell remarked.

Effie drew back after securing the final pin in Nell’s tresses. “I don’t claim she likes me very much, but…I do make a point of nurturing the connection. She knows everyone worth knowing in London, and since many people still believe I was something like her ward, I’ve seen no useful reason to dispel the fiction.”

“Does Miss Corvus know?”

“Should she?”

Nell gave her friend a speaking look. Effie was notorious for not following the rules. But Miss Corvus made those rules for a reason. It didn’t matter if those reasons were sometimes a mystery. “She was the one who provided the introduction. She might not have intended the acquaintance to last any longer than our business lasted with Lord Compton.”

“If you’re worried that Lady Belwood will speak out of turn, you needn’t be,” Effie said. “She can’t even bring herself to mention Miss Corvus’s name.”

“Which should be sufficient to warn you,” Nell replied. “Miss Corvus often has plans within plans, the purpose of which only she can discern. By ignoring her commands, you could very well be disturbing a hornet’s nest.”

“Lady Belwood? A hornet?” Effie scoffed. “Come now. She’s a manageable creature. It can surely do no harm to keep in contact with her.”

“Effie…”

“Besides,” Effie added, undaunted, “her ladyship and I still occasionally travel in the same circles. I can hardly pretend I don’t know her, can I?”