Page 21 of Cruel Hearts

“Thank you.” She stepped inside and glanced around the foyer. “I pulled these together the moment I heard about your suspension.”

Hefting the cases over the threshold, I asked, “What’s in this case?”

“Pattern books and handwritten notes from my time at Dior.”

My jaw dropped. “For me?”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “They’re not the originals.”

“But still…” We stood in the hallway, staring at each other. A rush of gratitude swelled through my chest and made my heart soar. Words weren’t enough to express my appreciation. It wasn’t like I had access to Gideon’s mental thesaurus. “Thank you, Miss. I really appreciate it.”

“Thank me by becoming a brilliant designer. Regardless of what kind of trouble that girl tries, no one can take away your talent.”

“She’s trying to get me expelled.”

With a soft snort, Miss Martin tossed her head. “Let her.”

“What?”

“There are other places in Scotland where you can finish your A-Levels, but very few institutions that will accept a girl who constantly gets into trouble with the police.” She fixed me with a stern look. “Think about your long-term goals.”

My shoulders rose around my ears. She was right. At some point in the future, I wanted to sit on a pile of cash, Scrooge McDuck-style, raking in all the money I earned from my fashion label. But I’d never get the experience or industry contacts from a jail cell.

“Think about what I’ve said.” Miss Martin placed a gnarled hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“I will, Miss.”

With a sad smile, she turned on her heel and let herself out of the door.

I sat on the tartan chair and stared at the sewing machine case. Hadn’t Gideon said something similar the day before? There was enough time to enroll in a nearby school or sixth-form college for the spring term. Elizabeth might crow over her supposed victory over me but that was better than whatever she had planned to get rid of me next.

A bolt of anger shot through my chest. Since when did I let the likes of Elizabeth Liddell push me around? The fashion world, like all competitive fields, was full of backstabbers. If I ran away at the first sign of a more powerful opponent, I’d be running my entire career.

Straightening, I turned toward the kitchen, only for the bell to ring again. I spun around and answered the door.

A red-headed girl stood on the doorstep, her head bowed, and her arms wrapped around her body.

“Maeve?”

She raised her head. “Adewale told me you were back from prison. What happened?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“There’s all sorts of rumors flying about.” She glanced in the direction of the academy and frowned. “Can I come in? This place is out of bounds, and if I get caught—”

“Sure.” I stepped aside to let her in, then we walked to the living room together.

Maeve turned around in a circle, taking in the gorgeous, chandelier-lit living room with its crackling fireplace and champagne-colored sofas. “Mr. Burgh lives here?”

“It’s the headmaster’s quarters,” I said. “But he spends most of his time at the academy like everyone else.”

“Of course.” She lowered herself into the armchair closest to the fire and hugged herself. “I-I heard you wanted to know about the last girl who got expelled.”

“Are you alright?”

“What?” Maeve’s teeth chattered.

I took a few steps toward Maeve, making her stiffen in her seat. “You seem cold, but it was only a short walk from the academy to here.”