Never in her life had she seen a man so utterly in charge of his environment. King of all he surveyed. And not a kindhearted king, either. A cold and implacable one, who had dispatched a man who had outweighed him by at least five stone as easily as if he were swatting a bothersome fly.

He’d been in his shirtsleeves, too. And without a cravat! The neck of his shirt had gaped, revealing the strong column of his throat.

Effie supposed she shouldn’t have noticed it. Then again, knowing one’s surroundings meant noticing everything in them, even if that everything included the bare neck of one’s brooding would-be rescuer.

The entire episode had been as breathtaking as it was baffling. The way Gabriel had behaved. Smashing that man who had insulted her against the gin shop counter. Clasping her arm so gently. Kissing her hand!

What had he meant by it all? He wasn’t, it was to be hoped, interested in her romantically, was he?

She couldn’t credit it. Not given the actions that had preceded today’s encounter.

Gabriel had warned her away from Compton. He’d even had her followed. That boy of his had seen her visit the Academy, for heaven’s sake! Effie couldn’t believe she hadn’t spotted the lad earlier. She felt a fool not to have done so. And now Gabriel knew of her connection with the place. Whether he believed it was one wholly based on her charitable instincts, Effie took leave to doubt. The man didn’t strike her as being stupid. Calculating, yes. Foolish, never.

No, she decided firmly. His attentions, such that they were, weren’t inspired by romantic attraction. They were fueled by self-interest. He was her opponent, nothing more.

Recognizing that fact put all the rest in its proper perspective.

Nevertheless…

Effie gave Franc a look of gentle reproof as the hackney clattered on toward Mayfair. “You didn’t bite him.”

Franc’s shrewd brown eyes blinked up at her without apology. He bit anyone he deemed a threat. When it came to judgments of character, his intuition was as reliable as clockwork.

She frowned down at him. “Don’t say you like the man.”

Franc’s pom-pom tail quivered faintly in answer.

“If that’s the case,” Effie said, “you’re in trouble, my friend.”

And so am I, she added silently.

• • •

There was much to be done in the lead-up to the dinner at Lord Compton’s house next week. Effie couldn’t afford to be idle. The following day, she embarked on another series of errands, this time appropriately garbed in a morning dress of lavender-sprigged white grenadine and properly chaperoned by one of the Belwoods’ housemaids. Their first stop: a chemist’s shop in Bond Street.