It would mean that Lord Compton knew about Effie’s lost hairpin. That he knew about her disappearing upstairs during the performances.

Despite his outward civility, despite his fatherly air, she would be a fool to underestimate him.

This was the man who had bested Miss Corvus. If Effie was going to take him on, she’d have to remain on her guard.

“I did, sir,” she said, choosing her words with care. “Regrettably, I only had but a few moments to admire your collection. I have been anxious to see it again ever since.”

“I would be pleased to show it to you now,” Lord Compton said. “If you can spare the time.”

Effie’s senses trembled a warning. She had eagerly anticipated perusing the viscount’s library again, but not with the villain himself as her guide. Still…

The opportunity of being in company with the man was too great to refuse.

“I would like that very much,” she said. “Thank you, my lord.”

Miss Compton moved to rise.

“No need, my dear,” her father told her. “You must rest from your ordeal. I shall take charge of your charming guest.” He gestured to the door of the drawing room. “After you, Miss Flite.”

22

Effie stood beside Lord Compton as he extracted the first volume of his medieval collection from its shelf near the fireplace. The library was empty at this time of day, sun filtering in through the half-closed draperies, capturing dancing dust motes in its rays.

This was but the third time Effie had entered the vast book-lined room. On her first visit, she’d encountered Gabriel in the darkness (a memory that still made her heart quicken). On the second, she’d been in company with Miss Compton. And now, here she was again, this time with the man she’d been pursuing from the beginning.

Gabriel would assuredly not approve.

He’d warned her away from the viscount countless times since they’d met. “Gentlemen of Compton’s rank aren’t to be trifled with,” he’d said. “Powerful men will do anything to protect their secrets.”

But Effie had power, too. Hers lay in the fact that she was a woman, and in this world, by this man, women had always been underestimated. Whoever Miss Corvus had been when Compton had robbed her and betrayed her, she hadn’t been the fierce and formidable female she would later become. It was that woman who had brought Effie up. Who had, as Nell claimed, raised Effie in her image.

Let Compton underestimate her at his peril.

“My daughter tells me you read Latin,” he said, passing her the book.

Effie managed a small, self-effacing smile. “Only a very little, my lord.”

He studied her face. “I wasn’t aware French finishing schools were in the habit of teaching Latin to their students. Not even a very little of it.”