Effie began to understand. She thought of his house, and all the vast extravagances within it, from the Japanese drawing room and the Italian marble floors, to the imported crystal chandeliers, the towering oil paintings, and the quality of the wine served at his table. She had long recognized that Compton enjoyed luxury, but she realized something else now.

For all his lofty reputation as a gentleman of wisdom, Compton was only a dilettante. A man who dabbled at refinement, unwilling to put in the actual work of reading a book or learning a language. A man who, when given the choice between the difficult path or the easy one, would always choose the latter. It was why he hadn’t set out to make his own fortune, preferring instead to steal one from Miss Corvus.

Effie hadn’t thought she could like him any less. But to have books such as these, and to never read them? It was practically criminal.

She slowly turned the next page, and then another. The same faint fragrance stirred from within the leaves that she’d caught when she’d looked at the previous volume. Ash, smoke, and leather, coupled with flowery sweetness and decay. The oddly familiar scent tickled at the back of her mind. She knew this smell. Not the decay, but something else…

The more pages she turned, the deeper it lured her into its flowery complexity.

“Are you searching for a particular passage, Miss Flite?”

Effie started. She hadn’t intended to let the silence stretch so long between them. And all the while he’d been watching her, weighing her expression and measuring her responses. “I only read a little Latin, as I said,” she answered with a rueful smile. “I have just realized this volume is the one about human animals.”

“You don’t care for human biology?”

“I’d prefer to read about wild creatures. Their behavior is far more interesting.”

“As a student of human behavior, I must disagree.”

“Yes, but you boast a vast and varied acquaintance, my lord. While I…” She glanced at him through her lashes. “I have only the experience of young people like myself.”

“Young men,” Lord Compton said derisively. “Immature bucks like Lord Mannering will doubtless bore a lady of your discernment. I beg you would not judge the rest of my sex by his example.”

“You don’t care for Lord Mannering? That is unfortunate, given Miss Compton’s feelings.”

“My daughter will soon get over this ill-advised infatuation. She is destined for greater things.” His lips curled into another patronizing smile. “You, on the other hand, appear to be meant for greater still.” He turned the next page of the book, his finger brushing slowly over hers. “I have been making inquiries about you, Miss Flite.”

Effie stilled. “Oh?”

“Contrary to what is believed, Lady Belwood has confided that you are in no expectation of an inheritance from her and her husband.”