Page 34 of Rules for Ruin

Lady Belwood regarded Effie from her seat across the carriage. “That place has been your life, I gather. I expect you have many friends there.”

“Not as many as you might imagine,” Effie said.

She was in no mood to be questioned about her past. Not after her visit to St. Giles last week. And not by this fine lady who looked as though she’d never known a day of want or desperation in her life.

For as long as Effie could remember, she’d felt the ache of having been given up by her mother. It was more than a feeling of abandonment. It was a keen sense of betrayal. If Lady Belwood did have a child at the Academy, she didn’t deserve to know anything about her. Not if her ladyship had chosen a life of luxury over the life of her own helpless daughter.

A pitiless reaction, perhaps, but there it was.

“You are certainly making friends here,” Lady Belwood went on. “The gentlemen especially seem to admire you. If it’s an offer of marriage you’re seeking—”

“I am not,” Effie assured her.

Marriage was the last thing she wanted. Only a fool would aspire to it. To marry was to give up one’s power.

Granted, if it ever passed into law (a very big if in Effie’s estimation), a married women’s property bill would provide some protection. But it still wouldn’t give a woman the same freedom she’d have if she remained unwed. Without a husband to encumber her, Effie could go where she wished and live as she chose. She envisioned a snug little flat for her and Franc when all this was over. A place entirely their own.

Lady Belwood looked at her, perplexed. “Why else would a girl of your age take part in the season?”

“To enlarge my acquaintance,” Effie said vaguely.

“I see. And do the other girls…” The bouncing lights from the carriage lamps danced over Lady Belwood’s unusually tense face. “Do any of them go into society as you have been doing?”

A rogue glimmer of compassion stirred in Effie’s breast. “No, my lady. None.”

Lady Belwood’s countenance softened with something like relief. “Yes, well, I had thought—” She broke off. “That is, I should never have expected—”

The carriage slowed.

Her ladyship looked gratefully to the window, leaving her sentence unfinished. “Ah. I perceive we have arrived.”

Effie followed her gaze as the carriage came to a halt. The Comptons’ stately white-stuccoed house was lit with torches. A liveried footman awaited them on the front step. No other carriages were lined up ahead of them. It appeared Effie and Lady Belwood were the first to arrive.

“You’re a little early, my dear,” Lady Compton said, greeting them in the hall. “My husband and daughter aren’t yet down.”

“Oh, are we? How embarrassing.” Lady Belwood tittered nervously as she received a kiss on both cheeks from her hostess.

“Not at all,” Lady Compton said. “This will give Miss Flite an opportunity to become acquainted with my daughter. Parker?” She caught the eye of her butler. “Show Miss Flite to Carena’s room.” She turned to Effie. “My daughter’s maid is putting the finishing touches on her toilette. Her friends are with her—Lady Lavinia and Miss Whitbread. I’m sure they would be glad for you to join them.”

“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” Effie said.

“And don’t let them tarry overlong,” Lady Compton added. “I can already hear the other carriages arriving.”

“This way, miss,” the butler said to Effie. He was a large, balding man with hard eyes and a crooked nose that appeared to have been broken several times. He motioned to the central staircase.

Effie allowed one of the footmen to take her cloak before obediently following the butler up the marble steps. She’d hoped to have a moment before the evening’s activities commenced to revisit Compton’s library. Then again, a connection with the man’s daughter might prove useful. Either way, the acquaintance was unavoidable.

The family’s apartments were on the second floor of the house. Effie followed the butler up another staircase, and down a wide, carpeted hall illuminated by wall sconces. She subtly scanned the layout of the floors as they went, taking mental note of the entrances, alcoves, and exits.

Every inch of Compton’s home was a testament to his wealth and position. Rich surfaces, shimmering crystal, gilt-framed oil paintings, and sumptuous Aubusson. The house even had indoor privies, one on each floor, as Effie had learned at the ball. A single indoor privy was a luxury. But several? It was an unmeasured extravagance, the likes of which Effie had never seen, not even in Paris.

How much of Miss Corvus’s fortune had gone to fund such well-bred excess? And just how had Compton managed to steal it from her? Miss Corvus was no fool to be tricked by a man, no matter how handsome he was, or how skilled at flattery.

But perhaps she hadn’t been as shrewd then as she was now. Rejection and betrayal changed a person. Effie knew that firsthand.

Parker knocked on a gold-and-cream-painted door halfway down the hall. It was cracked open by a black-aproned lady’s maid of indeterminate years.

“Lady Compton has sent Miss Flite to join the young ladies,” Parker said to her.