Effie fell in beside Gabriel as the others pulled ahead of them. His head was bent, his jaw set hard, as he walked. His thoughts seemed to have turned inward, leaving his outward aspect as impenetrable as armor. Only a muscle ticking in his cheek betrayed the war he was battling within.

“You haven’t had much to say to me, sir,” she remarked.

“I have a great deal to say to you, and none of it fit for company.” His deep voice was completely without inflection.

A prickle of anxiety traced down Effie’s spine. He was behaving much as he had when she’d first met him. That distant gaze, and that cold, remote manner, with no emotion to soften it. Then, it had intrigued her. Tonight, it set her on edge.

This, she recognized, was the ominous calm before the storm. And a storm was coming; she could feel it. She nevertheless affected an air of unconcern. “Oh?”

“You might have mentioned that Mannering and Powell were to be in your party.”

“You don’t approve of them?”

His face was impassive. “They both owe me money.”

Effie recalled how the two men had reacted when Gabriel had arrived in Brook Street. “Goodness. That certainly explains a lot.”

“So, it wasn’t part of your plan?”

“To make them miserable? Of course not.”

“To make me miserable, then.”

“Are you?” She smiled. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Now why do I have difficulty believing that?” he murmured.

Effie refused to be intimidated by his mood. Never mind that her insides were starting to tremble and her palms were growing damp beneath her evening gloves. She’d never shrunk from a challenge.

Drawing closer to him, she tucked her hand in his arm uninvited. Gabriel stiffened at her touch, but he didn’t withdraw from her. Effie didn’t know what she would have done if he had. It was difficult enough pretending they were on civil terms this evening without having to deal with an outright rejection.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” she said. “It can’t only be to punish me for my impertinence.”

“Impertinence, you call it, coming to my home? Threatening Ollie? Writing to me at my address?”

“How dastardly you make me sound.”

“Dastardly,” he repeated. “That’s a word for it.”

“I can think of a few others—bold, clever, inventive.” Effie paused. “Why do you keep such a fine house in Sloane Street?”

He gave her a look that was hard to read. “You thought it fine?”

“Anyone would. It’s a handsome home in a good neighborhood, well suited for a gentleman of means and his family.” An alarming thought entered her head. “You don’t have a family, do you?”

He’d asked her if she was married, but it had never occurred to her that he might be married himself. Not until this instant.

Gabriel’s silence did nothing to quell her uncertainty.