Page 85 of Rules for Ruin

“No, miss,” he said. But his troubled aspect remained as he escorted Effie to the drawing room. He glanced at her several times as they ascended the stairs, eyes lingering on her face and figure as though struggling to recall a fact just out of his reach.

Effie prayed he wouldn’t make the connection between her and the veiled widow he’d observed outside Mrs. Naismith’s house. If he did…

But there was no point anticipating trouble. Not when Effie had trouble enough already.

Bringing her to the door of the drawing room, Parker announced her name in dour tones: “Miss Flite.”

Miss Compton sat on a lavish sofa upholstered in crane-and-pagoda-embroidered Japanese silk. She wasn’t alone. Ruth Mannering was seated across from her. She was still in her bonnet and gloves, a brown cloth paletot buttoned over her modest gown. She rose as Effie entered.

“Euphemia,” she said. “I was just taking my leave. You were to be my next stop.”

Effie exchanged curtsies with her before warmly taking her hand. “And you were to be mine.”

Ruth scanned her face with concern. “How are you faring after last night’s events?”

Effie was conscious of her appearance. She’d cried too much yesterday, and this morning, when she’d risen from bed, her looking glass had showed the proof of it. There were dark smudges under her eyes and a certain paleness beneath her golden ivory complexion.

It wasn’t only on account of the tragedy. It was owing to Gabriel. He hadn’t yet sent the old woman’s direction. Effie had found herself anticipating his message far too much. And not just because of the implications about her mother, but because of her feelings for him. Try as she might, she couldn’t simply shut them off like a water tap.

“I slept very ill,” she admitted. “And you?”

“I’m bearing up.” Ruth gave Effie’s hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Would that I could say the same for Miss Compton.”

Miss Compton remained seated, a look of displeasure on her beautiful face. The folds of her ruffle- and lace-trimmed day dress billowed around her in a cloud of lustrous pink silk.

Effie went to her with a show of concern. She took her hand, just as she’d taken Ruth’s. “You poor thing. I heard that you’d fainted.”

Miss Compton’s hand remained limp in Effie’s. She tugged it away at the first opportunity. “Any lady of refinement would have been similarly affected.”

“Many women fainted,” Ruth said. “According to this morning’s paper, some were so much afflicted they had to be conveyed to St. George’s Hospital. And that is not all.” She lowered her voice. “Mr. Galezzo expired last night, not long after he was removed from the Gardens.”

Effie had seen the report in this morning’s edition of the Courant. It had said the man had been conveyed to his home in Chelsea, where he had lingered for hours in an unconscious state before finally succumbing to his injuries.

“A tragedy, to be sure,” Effie said. “He was so young and so very talented.”

“Must the two of you speak of it in front of me?” Miss Compton whisked open her painted fan. She wafted it rapidly in a burst of pique. “It’s a miracle I’m not still confined to my bed after what transpired. I shouldn’t have bothered to come down at all if not for so many people calling to ask after my welfare.” She gave a petulant sniff in Ruth’s direction. “Though some have been markedly absent, I must say.”

Ruth’s sober expression took on a consoling air, even as her eyes glinted with impatience at Miss Compton’s affected invalidism. “My brother sent me in his stead. He meant no offense. Indeed, I thought it showed uncommon delicacy on his part. He had no desire to remind you of the events of last night.”

“As if any lady could forget!” Miss Compton turned her hostile glare on Effie. “I notice that you seem to have recovered with remarkable ease, Miss Flite.”

“Not at all,” Effie said. “I’m sure I shall be having nightmares for weeks.”

“I feel the same,” Ruth said. “One must soldier on, of course, but…I find myself in need of peace and quiet after yesterday’s events. My brother is escorting me home to Luxford Place for a brief respite. He’s making the arrangements as we speak.”

Miss Compton ceased fluttering her fan. “Lord Mannering is leaving London?” She sat up straight in her seat. “For how long?”

“We shall be back Wednesday afternoon.” Ruth turned to Effie. “Regrettably, it means I must miss that morning’s lecture at Lady Bartlett’s house.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Effie said. “I was looking forward to attending.”

“You needn’t forgo the pleasure on my account. Her ladyship welcomes all comers. You have only to show your face and her butler will admit you. Bring a friend, if you like.”

“Are you quite sure Lord Mannering will be coming back?” Miss Compton asked.

“Of a certainty,” Ruth said. “He is intent on attending Mr. Chapin’s balloon ascent at Cremorne Gardens. It’s set for two o’clock if the weather is fine. Philip is confident we can make it if we depart Luxford Place by ten. I’d have thought, after last evening, he would have lost the taste for such spectacle, but he claims balloons are in a different category from high wires.”

Effie smiled. “I admire his sagacity.”