She hadn’t really imagined Gabriel living anywhere. Certainly not someplace as traditional as this. He was so vital. So dangerous. And yet, he doubtless maintained the same habits as other gentlemen, reading the paper over his morning coffee or indulging in a glass of port after dinner. He obviously shaved over a washstand at the start of his day, and he inevitably retired at night to a bed somewhere. If not here, then—

No.

No.

She didn’t wish to think of him in someone else’s bed. Not after the kiss they’d shared, and the friendship they’d almost had.

But almost was as bad as never. The end result was precisely the same.

Effie willed the butterflies in her stomach to cease fluttering their wings. They went still at her command. She had the grim idea that she’d killed them.

Oh, why must she be at odds with him when she liked him so much? Why must he be Compton’s protector, and not the viscount’s enemy like she was?

It wasn’t fair.

But nothing was fair.

Effie collected herself. “You’re his house servant, are you?”

“His valet. And I truly ain’t following you,” he said again. “Not after you spotted me like you did.”

“No, I suppose not,” she allowed. “Your master will have sent someone else to do the job.”

Gabriel had admitted as much two days ago during their confrontation in Hyde Park. How else could he have known that Effie visited the Courant?

The lad lowered his eyes with a sheepish flush. “I don’t know about that.”

“Forgive me if I take your professed ignorance with a grain of salt.” She looked the boy up and down. His hair was lank, and his face slightly spotty, but he didn’t appear neglected. “What’s your name? Ollie, isn’t it?”

“Ollie O’Cleary, miss.”

“Well, Ollie O’Cleary,” she said, donning her most severe expression. “You be sure to tell anyone else your master sends my way that I see everything, and I don’t take kindly to spies.”

“Yes, miss.” Ollie shifted from foot to foot, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“That’s all,” Effie said, adding ominously, “For now.”

Ollie immediately bolted off to Gabriel’s house.

Effie didn’t remain to watch him go in. She returned to the hackney on the corner, settling safe in the cab. She could just make out Parker at the end of the street, still waiting with the carriage while Compton finished his lascivious business.

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.