Effie had already been watching the house for nearly an hour, waiting for the viscount’s carriage to arrive. It was a good thing she’d hired a hackney rather than resorting to her original plan—strolling the street with Franc. While it might have been nice to obtain a closer view, one couldn’t walk a poodle up and down the same street for an hour without drawing unwanted attention.

As it was, Effie hoped to remain invisible. She’d worn her widow’s weeds and veil again. And there was enough through traffic, both by riders and passing carriages, that a hackney parked at the end of the street shouldn’t draw too much notice.

She was just beginning to doubt her plan when a glossy black carriage entered the street. Leaning forward in her seat, Effie peered out the greasy window of the hackney. The carriage had no crest or other insignia on its side. It was unmarked—and unidentifiable. It was an expensive vehicle for all that, from the luster of its paint to the sheen on the copper coats of its perfectly matched set of bays.

Effie knew how much Compton enjoyed his luxuries.

She held her breath as the carriage slowed to a halt at the end of the street, stopping in front of the very address Effie had found in the lease agreement. She tried her best to discern the carriage’s occupant. Drat it! They were too far away.

There was no time to waste. Coming to a swift decision, Effie pulled the black net veil of her bonnet down over her face, collected her parasol, and opened the door of the hackney. “Wait for me,” she said as she stepped down into the street unassisted.

“Right-o, ma’am,” the aged jarvey said with a weary tip of his hat.

Effie crossed to the same side of the street as the house. She walked toward it with an even step—neither too fast, nor too slow. There weren’t enough other people out strolling to hide her presence, but there was some activity. Children were playing nearby under the care of a pinafore-clad nurse, and several footmen were busily occupied sweeping doorsteps and polishing brass knockers.

Still a distance away, she watched as the hulking driver of the luxurious carriage jumped down from the box. He shot a look up and down the street before turning to open the carriage door.

Effie’s heart stopped beating. It was Parker, Compton’s butler. She’d know his ogreish countenance anywhere. She came to an immediate halt.

Good gracious. Had he seen her?

He undoubtedly had. But he hadn’t appeared to recognize her, or register her as a threat. If he had done, he wouldn’t be helping his master down from the carriage.