Though, Effie couldn’t say she was surprised. Not when Compton had already made something of an overture toward her. Perhaps it was his habit to change his mistresses out every few years? She wondered how many had preceded Mrs. Naismith.

Cabs and carriages vied for positions in front of Lady Bartlett’s house as the rest of the ladies who had attended the lecture departed. Miss Compton’s elegant lacquered coach, with its gold crest on the door, was slowly approaching. A lighter sporting coach pulled by two matched grays preceded it. The vehicle was small but sleek, with a glossy black body and sky-blue painted wheels.

Mrs. Naismith brightened. “Ah! There is my carriage.”

Effie admired the dashing vehicle along with Miss Compton. It had doubtless been provided by Lord Compton, along with Mrs. Naismith’s fine clothes and her house in Ellis Street.

It occurred to Effie that, yesterday, Gabriel had offered her something strikingly similar. Clothes, a house, a carriage. A comfortable life as mistress, rather than a wife.

But no.

It wasn’t at all the same. Gabriel hadn’t proposed that Effie be his guilty secret, tucked away somewhere in a house of her own, to be visited at his leisure. He had asked her to be his love. To make her home—and her life—with him.

Effie’s heart had yearned to accept his offer. Never mind that it wasn’t an offer of marriage. Her heart didn’t care about legalities. All it had wanted—all she had wanted—was to be with the man she loved.

But it wasn’t her heart that was in charge today. It was her head. She had important business to attend to. She couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Mrs. Naismith turned to Effie and Miss Compton with a smile. “Goodbye to you! Perchance I will see you again at the next meeting?”

“Perchance you will,” Miss Compton said, exchanging curtsies with her.

“Until then,” Effie said.

Mrs. Naismith waved at them as she boarded her carriage. The instant her coach set off, Miss Compton’s carriage pulled up to take its place. The liveried footman jumped down from his perch to open the door for his young mistress.

Here, at last, was the moment Effie had been waiting for.

“May I beg a lift from you?” she asked Miss Compton.

“If you like,” Miss Compton said, “but I must go straight home. My music lesson is at one. And after that, I depart immediately for the balloon ascension at Cremorne Gardens.”

“You mean to attend?”

“Naturally. Lord Mannering will be there with his sister, will he not? I’m eager to tell her I attended the lecture.”

“Yes, of course,” Effie said. “It’s sure to bring you closer to her.”

“And then to him,” Miss Compton said, allowing the footman to hand her into the carriage.