“How do you do, Franc?” Nell’s dimples appeared again. “Oh, what a little dear he is. And what a continental air he has about him! I feel as though he’s judging the unfashionableness of my gown.” Her attention fell to the barren ground at Effie’s booted feet. “But where are all the rest of your things? Have you not brought any trunks with you from Paris?”

“I left them at Waltham Station. I shall send for them directly after I speak with Miss Corvus.” Effie paused. “Providing you let me in.”

Nell gave an eloquent grimace. “Yes, yes. Of course. I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Especially in this weather. It’s bound to rain any moment.” She shuffled through the key ring, selecting a large black iron key. “I trust you haven’t been standing here long?”

“The hackney cab set me down not ten minutes ago.”

“Ten minutes? Upon my word. I’m surprised you didn’t pick the lock.”

Effie’s smile dimmed. “Is that what the Academy’s students have been reduced to in my absence? Parlor tricks?”

Nell slid the heavy iron key into the lock, opening the tall gates with a grating scrape of metal on metal. “What you call parlor tricks, I call useful skills.”

Effie didn’t doubt it. Nell had always believed in Miss Corvus’s questionable aims. It was one of the primary reasons Nell had agreed to stay on as a junior teacher. Indeed, on coming of age, Nell and Effie had both been given that option—a five-year contract, after which they could either remain at the Academy permanently or depart, with a small stipend, to seek their fortunes.

Miss Corvus liked to keep her special girls close. And, as the first and second members of the inaugural class of the charity school, Effie and Nell had been the most special of all.

The gates swung open with a creaking groan. Effie walked through them to embrace her old schoolmate. “Some skills are more useful than others,” she said.

Nell hugged her tight in return. “Had you no cause to pick any locks while you were companion to Madame Dalhousie?”

“Not a one, thank heaven.” Effie’s duties had been confined to accompanying the eccentric widowed madame to art and literary salons, lavish balls, stately dinners, and other social events of both the respectable and unrespectable variety. Such was the life of a lady’s companion, even one lucky enough to live in the City of Light.

“Pity,” Nell said. “You’ll be out of practice for what lies ahead.”

Effie drew back, brows notched in a frown. She searched Nell’s face. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Naturally.” Nell released her. “You must have realized it when you received my sampler.” She moved to lock the gates behind them, visibly proud of herself. “Clever, was it not?”