“I’m no relic,” Lord Mannering said. “I’m as open-minded as the next fellow. But I say…one doesn’t expect to meet a villain of that sort across the table. It puts a man off his feed.”

Effie hadn’t noticed any lack of appetite on his lordship’s part. He’d eaten everything placed in front of him with remarkable gusto. Effie herself had taken only a light sustenance. She didn’t want rich sauces and heavy starches weighing her down as she embarked on her mission this evening.

A gentleman’s study could be located anywhere in a house—downstairs, upstairs, or even in the attic. Time would be of the essence. Though Miss Compton had claimed her father would remain in the drawing room for the entire musicale, the viscount was only guaranteed to be fully occupied for as long as his daughter took to perform her aria. Any additional minutes after that would be a gift.

Effie would have to work quickly.

It was some relief Gabriel would be engaged in the library with Lord Haverford once the music started. Effie didn’t much fancy a repeat of what had happened when she was searching Compton’s desk during the ball. As it was, her path would be almost entirely clear. She’d only have to manage the servants, and that should be easy enough. Providing one of those servants wasn’t the Compton’s butler, Parker.

“Good thing m’sister didn’t come tonight,” Lord Mannering went on. “Shouldn’t have liked her to be exposed to the lower orders. Not that she’d object, mind. Always going to lectures and radical whatnot, she is.”

“Was she otherwise engaged this evening?” Effie asked.

“Some committee meeting or other. Claimed it couldn’t be missed. Not as if she’d be performing in any case. Ruth don’t like singing to people. She prefers talking at them.”

“I’m sorry not to see her again.” Effie meant it. It would be nice to have a like-minded acquaintance or two in town. Someone to talk to with something like candor. Thus far, she’d only revealed her views to Gabriel. A bluestocking, he’d called her. The name was surely tame in comparison to Effie’s and the other Academy girls’ true predilections.

“Will you be performing this evening, Miss Flite?” Lord Mannering asked.

“Indeed not,” Effie replied. “I rarely perform for strangers.”

As she spoke, she felt the weight of Gabriel’s gaze. He’d looked at her more than once since she’d turned her attention to Lord Mannering. Doubtless he was bored. The lady on his left was Miss Whitbread. What they could have to converse about was anyone’s guess.

“But you do play and sing?” Lord Mannering asked.

“A very little,” she said. “I prefer needlework.”