In the meanwhile, she didn’t dare keep the book on her person. Not when she expected Parker to appear at any moment, either alone or with the constable. They would almost certainly demand to search her, and very likely insist on searching her room.

Seated in an armchair by her chamber window, Effie cradled Franc, willing herself to remain calm. The little poodle pawed at her cheek in canine concern.

“If only Gabriel wasn’t at the dratted Derby,” she told him. “I’ve no doubt he would manage this situation impeccably.”

But Gabriel wasn’t in London. Effie was on her own. And she had no time to spare.

“We must away from here,” she said to Franc. “As soon as I catch my breath, we’ll pack a bag. I’ll post the book, and then we shall board the next steamer for Calais. Madame Dalhousie will give us shelter until Miss Corvus can determine what I’m to do next.”

Franc blinked up at her.

“What we’re to do next,” she amended.

Franc’s tail quivered. He licked her cheek.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Ten minutes later, her carpetbag packed, Effie was just heading for the bedroom door to see about wrapping the book when a knock arrested her step.

“Miss Flite?” Mary poked her head in. “Sorry to disturb you, miss, but Lady Belwood requests your presence in the drawing room.”

“Now?” Effie asked, incredulous.

Mary cast an interested look at Effie’s carpetbag. “At once, miss.”

“Very well.” Effie settled Franc back on the bed. Giving him one final pet of reassurance, she exited the bedroom. She followed Mary down a flight of stairs to the drawing room.

Lady Belwood awaited her there on the brocade sofa. She wasn’t alone.

“Miss Flite.” Lord Compton rose as Effie entered, a cold smile curving his thin lips. “The very person I’ve come to see.”

Effie stared at the man for a full five seconds. Her every instinct told her to flee. She ignored the impulse. She wasn’t going to run only to be caught in some ignominious fashion. Compton was the one in the wrong, not her. Despite the anxiety pulsing in her veins, she had no intention of showing even a scintilla of fear.

She summoned a smile. “Lord Compton. How delightful.”

Lady Belwood looked between the two of them with a frown. She fluttered her pastel painted fan, appearing much vexed. “His lordship has a matter he most earnestly wishes to discuss with you,” she said to Effie. “If you would be so obliging?”

“Of course.” Effie came to join them.

“There is no need for you to stay, my lady,” Lord Compton said to Lady Belwood. “The matter is between me and your ward.”

“As you mentioned.” Lady Belwood stood. “Though I must say it is most irregular. Were it anyone but you, sir, I would insist on remaining to chaperone Miss Flite.”