Effie climbed in after her. The interior of the coach was upholstered in blue velvet with gold edging. It appeared to be new. “An excellent plan,” she said. “I shan’t do anything to impede it. Indeed, you need only take me as far as Grosvenor Square.”

The footman closed the door behind them and the carriage started off, rolling smoothly toward Mayfair. It was but three miles away. A negligible distance in such a well-sprung vehicle. They arrived in front of the Comptons’ mansion not twenty minutes later.

Miss Compton gathered her skirts to disembark. “You needn’t walk,” she said to Effie. “John Coachman can convey you to Brook Street quickly enough after I get out.”

“No, no,” Effie objected. “Truly. I had rather stretch my legs. But first…” She sunk her voice. “May I trouble you to use the necessary?”

Miss Compton’s face turned a dull red. Ladies were discouraged from mentioning their bodily functions, even amongst each other. “If you must,” she said with stiff dignity.

The footman opened the carriage door and assisted Miss Compton down. Effie followed, making sure her reticule was still with her. She had packed enough twine in it this morning to fulfill her plan. Without it, she’d have no way to spirit the book out of the house.

Before they had finished ascending the front steps, the Compton’s butler, Parker, materialized at the door. He held it open for them as they entered the hall. “Mr. Lampert has arrived, miss,” he informed Miss Compton. “He awaits you in the music room.”

Miss Compton hurried to the stairs. “I must change,” she said. “Tell him I’ll be down in five minutes. And Parker? Do show Miss Flite to the washroom.”

Effie waited at the foot of the stairs, her eyes lowered in what she hoped was a fair impression of feminine modesty. The house boasted an indoor privy on each floor. She didn’t know where the ground floor one was located, but she suspected it was somewhere along the long corridor that led to the library.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Parker gestured in that direction. “This way, miss.”

Effie followed him. She sensed he was looking at her again, still trying to puzzle out why she seemed so familiar. “Is Lady Compton at home?” she asked.

“Her ladyship is presently attending to callers in the drawing room,” he said.

“Yes, of course. These must be her receiving hours.” Effie hesitated. “And Lord Compton? Is he at liberty?”

“His lordship is in Westminster. He is expected back any moment.”

Effie’s pulse quickened. If that was true, there was little time to spare. “Pity I’ll miss him.”

“Indeed.” Parker led Effie down the corridor to the door of a small coatroom that had been converted for the purpose. “You will find all you require inside, miss.”