“If you have a mind to make more, you might be interested in attending a talk with me next Wednesday morning in Kensington. Lady Bartlett has invited a prominent Manchester teacher to speak about the education of girls. It’s open house. Everyone is welcome.”

“I’d like that very much,” Effie said. “Thank you, Miss Mannering.”

“Please, call me Ruth.”

“Euphemia,” Effie offered in reply. She felt Gabriel’s cool gaze briefly touch her face.

She knew what he must be thinking. She’d given him leave to call her Effie, while Ruth Mannering was denied the privilege.

It wasn’t the same.

Ruth may be the sort of girl that, under other circumstances, Effie would have been friends with, but they weren’t friends. They would never be friends. How could they when Effie was here under false pretenses?

Given her mission, it was safer to refrain from forming intimate connections. A friend could be hurt by Effie’s deception. An acquaintance could only be disappointed.

As for Gabriel, Effie saw him for no more and no less than exactly what he was. And, despite the fact he knew nothing of her past, he saw her, too. Like recognized like, he’d told her the night they’d met. There was no question of betrayal between the two of them. They knew what they were.

Which is why he had no right to be angry with her. Not on any account. She’d told him flat out that she intended to continue about her business. If Gabriel was foolish enough to stand in her way, he had only himself to blame.

Miss Compton glanced at Effie over her shoulder. “Don’t let fashionable society hear of your attendance at one of Lady Bartlett’s gatherings, Miss Flite. You wouldn’t like to get a name for yourself.”

“Is that name bluestocking?” Ruth retorted, seeming to be only half in jest. “There are worse names for women.”

“Only one name is worthy for females of my acquaintance,” Miss Compton said. “That name is lady.”

“Well put,” Lord Powell said. “A true lady, with all her delicacy, is a creature to be revered.” He offered Ruth his arm as they ascended the gentle slope toward the exhibition grounds. “If you’ll permit me, Miss Mannering?”

A blush pinkened Ruth’s cheeks as she accepted his arm. It was she who had suggested including Lord Powell in their party, and it was now apparent why. She plainly had a soft spot for the man. “Thank you, my lord.”

Miss Compton took the opportunity to take Lord Mannering’s arm. It was the work of a moment. She’d already asserted her claim over him by her proximity. She’d scarcely left his side since she’d arrived in Brook Street.

Lord Mannering flashed another regretful look in Effie’s direction before resigning himself to Miss Compton’s maneuverings.