The possibility warmed her to her silk stocking–clad toes. An inconvenient reaction. She didn’t need any more reason to like the man.

“I’m not in trouble,” she said in an effort to reassure him.

“If that’s what you believe,” he replied without a hint of sentimentality, “you’re either woefully overconfident or spectacularly ignorant—or both.”

Her mouth compressed in a tight line. She instantly discarded the ridiculous notion that he was driven by concern. Her suspicions reverted to their original course. He wasn’t here for her. He was here for himself, and—very probably—for Compton.

Effie pointedly removed her arm from his grasp. “I’m glad you didn’t come to court me,” she informed him as she resumed walking with Franc. “A union built on insults and underestimation would never have worked.”

Gabriel overtook her. His glower was palpable. “This isn’t a jest, Effie.”

“I’m not jesting,” she said. “Though I am pleased to see you’ve dispensed with the needless formalities.”

Last night they had used each other’s given names. It had felt as though they’d drawn closer. As though they were halfway to being friends.

But he wasn’t her friend today, whatever name he chose to call her.

“Well? Pray, don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “We’ve already established that you’re not here to court me. And you obviously aren’t here out of any gentlemanly concern. Not for me, anyway. So, who is it that’s caused you to come and see me in all this state? Shall I hazard a guess?”

“I warned you,” he said. “I told you I had a vested interest in Compton’s well-being.”

“Because you need his money to reform the slum? Surely, one rich man’s pocketbook is as good as another’s.”

“Compton isn’t only wealthy. He holds influence in Parliament. Reforms require changes to laws. He can do that—and convince the other politicians to follow his lead.” Gabriel flashed her a blazing look. “So, whatever it is you’ve been looking for in his library, in his bedchamber, and at the offices of the London Courant—”

Effie’s gloved fingers tightened reflexively on Franc’s lead. She’d suspected her visit to the paper was Gabriel’s motive for being here, but hearing it confirmed nevertheless provoked a private flinch. “Are you having me followed again?” she asked before he could finish.

He didn’t deny it.

She racked her brain, trying to recall any faces she’d seen more than once during her journey to and from the Courant. But there hadn’t been anyone. Effie would have known if there had. She’d been that careful.

“I understand you caused quite a furor,” he said.