“Perhaps not in the park,” Effie said. “And not in this informal manner. But…yes. After what happened between us last night, a gentleman would waste no time in calling to pay his respects.”

He held her gaze. Something in his face made Effie’s breath constrict. “You believe I’m here because I kissed you?”

The air crackled around them. Effie ignored it as best she could, recognizing the tactic for what it was. He was attempting to put her on the back foot. To provoke her into saying or doing something that would reveal her secret objectives.

It was the same thing Effie was doing to him.

“You did promise that we were due a serious conversation,” she reminded him. “I presumed it must be about your intentions.” She conjured a tremulous smile. “If you mean to court me—”

He muttered something under his breath. It sounded like an oath.

“You do, don’t you?” Effie pressed him. “Indeed, most fashionable people would agree that, after the intimacies you inflicted on me, a proposal of marriage would be—”

Gabriel caught her arm, cutting off her speech. “You infernal minx,” he said in a low growl, bringing her around to face him in a swirl of her poplin skirts. “It would serve you right if I did propose to you.”

Effie’s heart leapt. She was briefly startled into a genuine smile. She swiftly disguised it.

But it was too late.

His cold expression softened a fraction. So did his grip on her arm. “And I inflicted a kiss on you, did I?”

She lowered her lashes. “As to that…”

“I seem to recall you getting into the spirit of it.”

Heat crept up her throat. She prayed it wouldn’t seep into her face where he could see it. “I obviously wasn’t thinking straight. That was the whole reason you were there.”

“And why were you there?” he demanded. “And what were you up to today when you were meant to be safe in Brook Street recovering from your ordeal last night?”

She lifted her gaze in bewilderment. “Whoever said I would be remaining indoors for the day?”

“Any other lady would have—”

“What? Taken to her bed? Called for her sal volatile? You must think me a very poor-spirited female.”

“What I think,” he said, “is that you might have at least done me the courtesy of staying out of trouble for the next twenty-four hours after you left me last night.”

Effie stared at him. Is that what this was about? He’d presumed she would be safe in Brook Street, but instead he’d discovered that she’d put herself in some kind of danger? Was that why he’d come all this way, absent his hat and gloves, even going so far as to call at the Belwoods’ residence to find her? Because he was concerned about her?