Page 66 of Rules for Ruin

The swine.

Effie leaned back in her seat as the jarvey returned her to Brook Street. She was in a foul mood. Both frustrated and heartsick. Angry, too, though she didn’t know at whom.

Still, the morning hadn’t been a complete waste of her time. She’d learned the name of Compton’s mistress, as well as the lady’s address and the time of their weekly assignations. Mrs. Dora Naismith, a woman with the same striking coloring as Miss Corvus. Apparently, Compton had a weakness for raven-haired beauties. Which put Effie in a strong position, all things considered.

And Mrs. Naismith’s name wasn’t the only information Effie had garnered.

Like it or not—useful or not—she now knew where Gabriel lived.

• • •

Gabriel’s address proved to be of value to Effie much sooner than she had anticipated.

Later that afternoon, during Lady Belwood’s receiving hours, Lord Mannering called with his sister, Ruth.

Effie had just completed her latest sampler and sent it off to the Academy. It had spelled out Dora Naismith’s name in code. Whether that name would mean anything to Miss Corvus, Effie could only guess.

After straightening her skirts and smoothing her hair, she joined Lady Belwood to greet their guests in the drawing room. Her ladyship was often present when Effie had visitors. It was as much out of anxiety, Effie suspected, as out of a desire to provide proper chaperonage. She sat down beside Effie on the settee as Lord Mannering and his sister took their seats on the brocade sofa opposite. Formal calls were brief affairs, lasting only between ten and twenty minutes. Most visitors didn’t even remain long enough for a cup of tea.

“We’ve come on a mission,” Lord Mannering said, his hat and gloves in hand. “Tell her, Ruth.”

Miss Mannering was sensibly clad in a plain brown wool dress, with no visible sign of a wire crinoline. The older of the pair, she had the look of a girl who had been cursed with far more intelligence than her male relations and had long been obliged to endure their prattling with good grace. “My brother has got it into his head to attend Mr. Galezzo’s high-wire performance at Cremorne Gardens tomorrow evening. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Effie wasn’t acquainted with Mr. Galezzo’s act, but she’d often read about Cremorne Gardens. It was a famous twelve-acre pleasure garden located on the northern bank of the Thames. The newspapers regularly featured stories on the entertainments offered there, everything from its famous Chinese dancing pagoda to concerts, balloon ascents, and military exhibitions.

“A high-wire act,” Lady Belwood murmured. “How thrilling.”

“The fellow traverses a six-hundred-foot wire suspended fifty feet in the air,” Lord Mannering relayed eagerly. “There’s a ballet afterward, and a supper. Fireworks, too, if you and Ruth aren’t done in. That is…” He bestowed a sheepish smile on Effie. “If you’ll consent to come.”

“Is it safe, sir?” Lady Belwood asked. “One hears things about Cremorne. Alarming tales of what goes on after dark. One wonders if it’s still quite a respectable place?”

“It’s safe enough with an escort,” Lord Mannering said. “I wouldn’t let the ladies out of my sight.” He looked to Effie. “Do say you’ll join us. I’m told that Galezzo crosses the wire both forward and backward. Imagine!”

Effie recalled her promise to Carena Compton—and her reasons for making it. “Lady Belwood is right. It does sound thrilling. But surely such a death-defying display deserves a larger party?” She brightened. “I know! We could invite Miss Compton.”

Miss Mannering’s thin brows lifted at the suggestion. She noticeably refrained from comment.

Lord Mannering shifted in his seat. “Don’t mean to be ungracious, but…not much fun for a chap to host a large party of females. Hadn’t we best keep it just you, me, and m’sister?”

“Yes, I see.” Effie nodded in thought. “Naturally, we shall have to add two more gentlemen to the group to even the numbers.”

Miss Mannering’s mouth curved with quiet understanding. She doubtless suspected that Effie desired to convert a potential tête-à-tête with Lord Mannering into a less intimate affair, without outright rejecting the man. “Lord Powell might be willing,” she said. “He and my brother often go about together to these sorts of events.”

“Not quite the same, Ruth,” Lord Mannering said under his breath.

“Lord Powell will do nicely.” Effie’s thoughts turned to the red brick house in Sloane Street, with its black-painted door. To the way she’d felt looking up at it this morning. A wild idea took hold of her. “And I know just the gentleman to complete our party,” she said. “Miss Compton mentioned him particularly.”

“A gentleman for Miss Compton?” Lord Mannering perked up. “Oh, well that’s all right.”

“You’ll join us then, Miss Flite?” Miss Mannering asked.

“I would be delighted,” Effie said.

She told herself later, as she wrote out the invitation to Gabriel, that she was only doing it to vex him. It was important to keep one’s enemies close. More important still to keep them off-balance. If she played her hand well, a visit to Cremorne Gardens tomorrow night would do both.

But as she sealed the envelope and rang for a footman to deliver it to Sloane Street, Effie knew herself to be a liar. There was only one reason for inviting Gabriel. It had nothing to do with strategy, and everything to do with her heart.

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