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I gestured for her to sit before moving to the desk and uncorking a bottle of wine. Blowing a bit of dust out of the bottom of a chipped enamel cup, I held it to the light looking for spots. “Fancy a drink? I sense we’ll all need one.”

Ruan made a huff of amusement. Violet shook her head again and I recorked the bottle, turning the little cup back over on the table.

“I saw you speaking to Dr. Peterson up at the priory. Now you’re here, rummaging through my things. No one will speak of you, changing the subject whenever I inquire.” My nostrils flared as I dropped my gaze down her slight form. “Those are not the actions of someone who means to ask me for help. These are the actions of someone looking for something. Someone who is trouble.”

“Because I am in trouble.” She folded her arms, drumming her fingertips on the soft lawn of her blouse, the bottle of brandy clutched to her chest. “We all are. Things have gotten out of hand. I need your help, but more than that—I need to know if I can trust you or if you will run off at the first sign of danger.”

I let out a startled laugh. This girl did not know who she was talking to. “I don’t believe you.”

“Then we are done here, and I’ve learned what I needed to.” She started for the door, but I took a quick step over, cornering her against the wall, caging her within my arms. I’d never been a vengeful woman and yet all the headlines she’d written about me … Ruan. Mr. Owen … they all flitted through my mind. I’d been tricked. Did she even know my mother, or was that just another ploy to get me here? The article I’d discovered on the floor of von Keller’s office suddenly made a great deal more sense. Did her presence here have something to do with me and not my mother? My head swam. “How did you know those things about my mother? The ones you told my solicitor you would publicize. How did you know?”

She glared at me, the scent of her perfume nearly overpowering this close. “Because she told me. And I assure you, she would be ashamed of you in this moment.”

“My mother has been mute since the war. Everyone knows that,” I snapped back. “How did she tell you anything?”

“One doesn’t have to speak to communicate. I would think you of all people would know that.” Her words were a slap in the face. She could as easily be lying as telling the truth. She’d proved herself untrustworthy—as evidenced by her breaking into my damned rooms.

Violet’s jaw worked. “You are afraid.”

“I most certainly am not. However, I am tired of being followed, lied to, and used. There’s a difference.”

“Let her go, Ruby.” Ruan’s voice was a low warning, cracking the shell of my rage.

He had slipped away from the door, making free her path to escape. “Let her go,” he repeated, slower this time.

My nostrils flared, but I dropped one arm to my side.

Violet must have sensed the conflict in my own mind, as she wisely did not speak. It wasn’t that I was prone to violence, but I did not like being threatened nor did I appreciate being used. And Violet had done both. But why? And what did Violet have to do with the priory?

I didn’t understand any of it. Why she was here, or why my mother would have entrusted her closest held secrets to a reporter when she knew how badly I’d been treated by their kind.

“Ruby…” Ruan said, his voice bursting through the dam of my emotion. My shoulders relaxed and I fully stepped aside, gesturing for Violet to leave. She paused on her way out the door, holding my gaze, and took a wide swing with the brandy bottle she held in her hand, striking it against the jamb. It shattered upon impact. Violet dropped the broken mouth of the bottle to the floor and walked away.

We were done. Any hope of learning the truth vanished with my ill-planned flash of temper.

I remained still as a stone listening to her retreating steps. The wasted brandy pooled on the uneven floorboards beneath my feet.

“She wasn’t lying,” Ruan said softly. “Not about your mother.”

I blew out a breath, sinking to the floor until my rump hit the ground with a loud thump. I pressed my forehead into my knees. The spilled brandy dampening the edges of my skirt. “Now what? Have I utterly ruined everything?”

He pressed his back against the roughened wood of the door. Cautious, for fear I’d chase after her. But there was no need. I needed to be clearheaded the next time we spoke. I needed to know what brought Violet here in the first place. Was it as she said—that she’d been chasing a story? And if so, was it the same tale I was beginning to uncover myself? The dead patients. The fear in everyone’s eyes at the mere mention of my mother.

I’d thought finding the imposter would reveal the truth—and yet somehow it made everything more complex. Jagged shards of a reliquary that could not quite be repaired.

“Have I ruined it all?” I asked softly.

He shook his head. “No. We’ll carry on as we’d meant to. We’ll go to the lake this evening as planned—see the orderly and find out what he has to tell us. We may not need Violet at all. You told me yourself Narcisse had information about your mother and the other patients. And at least he isn’t skulking about rummaging through your luggage,” Ruan said with a sympathetic quirk of his lips.

My chest eased slightly. It was true—Narcisse had implied he’d seen the imposter as well. Violet. Perhaps I could learn from him her true purpose here. It was certainly possible he knew even more than Violet did.

“What do you make of her?”

“She was afraid. Her heart was about to beat out of her chest like a hare caught in a snare.”

I snorted out a laugh at the absurd rhythm of his words. “Is this another of your powers, poetic turns of phrase?”

He narrowed his gaze at me, though the expression was of endearment more than irritation. “She’s far more like you than you realize. Perhaps that’s why you were on her like a bird of prey.”