The cards in Avery’s hands might as well have crumbled to dust by now. They’d been turned in her hands over and over until they were flexible and might as well have dissolved in the pouring, freezing rain like sugar. Ever since she got home, the outcomes of what would follow after meeting Mr. Berkwood in London had tumbled through her head until they made her dizzy. Could he take her daughter away from her if he tried? After a little digging she’d found out exactly what Mr. Berkwood’s station was. Upper Class. Male. She knew the sort of crowds he likely walked amongst. Knowing that one word from him might get her labelled as unsuitable as a mother was more than a possibility; it had happened to one of the girls back home. Avery hadn’t seen her since her child was taken away.

But in the end, Avery decided something had to be done; there was no other way to move forward without knowing what she was up against. So she found herself at Mr. Berkwood’s address with her heart in her throat as she raised a wet hand to knock on the door as water poured from the brim of her thoroughly soaked through hat. When the door creaked open, she tilted her chin up slightly and drew a breath.

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