Page 52 of Rules for Ruin

His chest constricted. The thought of her falling—

But no.

No.

He was determined to approach this logically.

As he continued alone through the moonlit garden, he catalogued what he knew about her. It was precious little, and most of it hearsay. She had been finished in Paris, and was by way of being Lord and Lady Belwood’s ward. Her instincts were charitable, as illustrated by her visit to St. Giles and to an Epping Forest girls’ orphanage. And she had a bluestocking spirit, as evidenced by the conversation they’d shared at dinner.

But though she spoke, dressed, and moved like a lady of the first rank, she regularly engaged in distinctly unladylike activities. Searching gentlemen’s desks and bedchambers. Dressing in widow’s weeds and traveling about the city without a maid. And who could forget the razor tip on her parasol?

What it all meant, he didn’t know. But as he departed Compton’s house that evening, Gabriel was determined to find out.

12

Effie posted her first sampler to the Academy the following morning. It contained no lengthy message, only a single line that could be deciphered in code: HE HAS A MISTRESS.

Even as she dispatched the parcel to the London post office with one of Lady Belwood’s footmen, Effie knew the effort to be in vain. What man of rank didn’t keep a mistress? So long as he was discreet, his peers forgave him the sin.

Then again, not every man was known as Lord Solomon.

Effie was resolved to go to Ellis Street on Thursday to confirm her suspicions. She would see if there was any intelligence there worth relaying to Miss Corvus. In the meanwhile, Effie had other lines of inquiry to pursue, both for the Academy and for herself.

She was in her bedroom, collecting her hat and gloves, preparing to leave Brook Street with Franc, when one of the Belwoods’ housemaids tapped on the door. It was Mary.

“Beg pardon, Miss Flite,” she said, “but you have a caller.”

Effie paused in the act of putting on her little jet-trimmed black velvet hat. “At this hour?” It was half past ten in the morning. She wasn’t accustomed to receiving callers until one. “Who is it?”

“It’s Miss Compton,” Mary said. “I’ve put her in the drawing room. Shall I bring in tea for you?”

Effie frowned. Carena Compton? What on earth could she want? And why could it not wait until normal receiving hours?

But there was no avoiding the troublesome call. To be sure, Effie might well turn such an inconvenience to her benefit. She was, after all, at pains to cultivate an acquaintance with the arrogant girl.

“Tea would be excellent,” Effie said. “Thank you, Mary. Please tell Miss Compton I shall be down directly.”

“Yes, miss.” Mary curtsied before withdrawing, closing the door after her.

Casting aside her hat and tugging off her gloves, Effie unclasped Franc’s lead from his collar. The little poodle looked up at her with profound disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “Our outing will have to be postponed.”

His lips quivered in a semblance of a snarl.

“My thoughts exactly,” Effie said. She picked him up and placed him on the bed. “Perhaps a nap until I return?”

Franc grudgingly went to Effie’s pillow.

“Faire le tour,” she encouraged him.

He obediently turned three times in a circle before lying down. His sides heaved with a weary sigh.

Effie felt the sentiment echo in her own weary soul. Too many of the preceding days had been spent in stifling drawing rooms, parlors, and ballrooms, cramped together with other ladies and gentlemen under the gaslights.

It hadn’t been without purpose. With every introduction made to her, every conversation she had and every dance she shared, Effie was gaining a greater and greater foothold into London society. People were beginning to see her as one of them. To accept her and—more importantly—to include her.

This was why Miss Corvus had summoned her back from Paris. Not because Effie was the most impressive of the girls at searching rooms or breaking into locked desks, but because Effie knew how to be a lady. She could blend in with the fashionable elite, move among them, be one of them.