Chapter Seventy
22 January 1900
London, England
‘So how do I address your father?’ Ava asked. The train was somewhere near Bletchley now, smoke trailing past the window as they rattled towards London.
‘As “Lord Carter”,’ said Damien, unfolding the paper across the narrow train table, forcing Ava to lift her sandwich clear of it.
‘Lord Carter,’ she murmured – though the words sounded oddly stilted from her lips. ‘And you are?’
‘Damien,’ said Damien, a low laugh rumbling from his chest. ‘Has something happened to your memory, Ava?’
She looked as though she were about to throw the scrap of wax paper from her sandwich at him. ‘Yourtitle, I mean.’
‘Mister,’ said Damien. ‘Nothing more.’
She took another bite of her sandwich. ‘I can’tbelieveyou didn’t tell me you were titled.’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me how good your brother was at cooking,’ he replied, unwrapping his scotch egg. Oliver had packed enough food for six people: ham and mustard sandwiches, scotch eggs with black pudding,sausage rolls, pork pies, a tin of home-made ginger biscuits, and enough lemonade to power the train if for whatever reason it ran out of coal. ‘I might’ve chosen that pie at the tombola, after all.’
‘I can’t help but worry about Pa though,’ said Ava. ‘At least when I went to Edinburgh, I knew Oliver would be there. Now he’ll be all alone there.’
‘He shan’t be alone,’ said Damien, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he watched her. ‘Mrs Moss won’t let him out of her sight. She all but promised you that.’
She looked up at him quickly – one of her darting glances – and then back at her sandwich.
‘You know,’ Damien said cautiously, leaning forwards slightly. ‘I never did ask what you did in Edinburgh.’
‘You asked Jem though,’ Ava said, eyes bright when they met his. ‘Oh yes, he told me.’
‘Is it some great secret?’ Damien asked. ‘What you were up to?’
‘I went to find Ma’s mentor,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘The woman who’d trained her. I thought if anyone could help me become her, it would be Madame Morell.’
‘And? Did she?’
‘She told me there was nothing more she could do for me,’ Ava said, putting her sandwich down upon the newspaper. ‘Said I had everything I needed already – which of course I took to mean I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t worth her trying with me. Now, of course, I realize that she wasn’t being cruel at all. And that really, she was right.’
‘What’s she like?’ Damien asked. ‘This “Madame Morell”?’
‘She’s peculiar. Like you.’
Damien swallowed hurriedly. ‘Likeme?’
‘Yes.’ Ava’s pale eyes darted back to his, a smile creeping upon her lips now. ‘With all your rules.’
‘Rulesyoubroke,’ Damien said.
Ava leaned forwards then, voice lowering conspiratorially. ‘I’m curious. Whatwereyour rules? You only told me the one.’
Damien wiped his hands upon the napkin, pushing his silver spectacles back up his nose. ‘I told you the most important one,’ he said. ‘There are seventeen in total.’
Ava’s eyes widened. ‘Seventeen?’
‘Sub-rules,’ explained Damien, as he poured a glass of lemonade for them both, careful not to slosh the clouded liquid on the table. ‘And ultimately less important.’
‘Tell me them.’
