Still, the morning hadn’t been a complete waste of her time. She’d learned the name of Compton’s mistress, as well as the lady’s address and the time of their weekly assignations. Mrs. Dora Naismith, a woman with the same striking coloring as Miss Corvus. Apparently, Compton had a weakness for raven-haired beauties. Which put Effie in a strong position, all things considered.

And Mrs. Naismith’s name wasn’t the only information Effie had garnered.

Like it or not—useful or not—she now knew where Gabriel lived.

• • •

Gabriel’s address proved to be of value to Effie much sooner than she had anticipated.

Later that afternoon, during Lady Belwood’s receiving hours, Lord Mannering called with his sister, Ruth.

Effie had just completed her latest sampler and sent it off to the Academy. It had spelled out Dora Naismith’s name in code. Whether that name would mean anything to Miss Corvus, Effie could only guess.

After straightening her skirts and smoothing her hair, she joined Lady Belwood to greet their guests in the drawing room. Her ladyship was often present when Effie had visitors. It was as much out of anxiety, Effie suspected, as out of a desire to provide proper chaperonage. She sat down beside Effie on the settee as Lord Mannering and his sister took their seats on the brocade sofa opposite. Formal calls were brief affairs, lasting only between ten and twenty minutes. Most visitors didn’t even remain long enough for a cup of tea.

“We’ve come on a mission,” Lord Mannering said, his hat and gloves in hand. “Tell her, Ruth.”

Miss Mannering was sensibly clad in a plain brown wool dress, with no visible sign of a wire crinoline. The older of the pair, she had the look of a girl who had been cursed with far more intelligence than her male relations and had long been obliged to endure their prattling with good grace. “My brother has got it into his head to attend Mr. Galezzo’s high-wire performance at Cremorne Gardens tomorrow evening. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

Effie wasn’t acquainted with Mr. Galezzo’s act, but she’d often read about Cremorne Gardens. It was a famous twelve-acre pleasure garden located on the northern bank of the Thames. The newspapers regularly featured stories on the entertainments offered there, everything from its famous Chinese dancing pagoda to concerts, balloon ascents, and military exhibitions.

“A high-wire act,” Lady Belwood murmured. “How thrilling.”

“The fellow traverses a six-hundred-foot wire suspended fifty feet in the air,” Lord Mannering relayed eagerly. “There’s a ballet afterward, and a supper. Fireworks, too, if you and Ruth aren’t done in. That is…” He bestowed a sheepish smile on Effie. “If you’ll consent to come.”

“Is it safe, sir?” Lady Belwood asked. “One hears things about Cremorne. Alarming tales of what goes on after dark. One wonders if it’s still quite a respectable place?”