Page 101 of Rules for Ruin

For the first time in her life, she ignored the acrid sensation. The wave of bitterness passed over her and through her, leaving her clear-eyed in its wake. She may not fully know Miss Corvus’s secrets, but when it came to her motives, Effie was at last beginning to understand.

“She saw that we were well educated,” she said. “Not only in the traditional subjects, but in the untraditional ones. She ensured we could think for ourselves, and defend ourselves. That we would never fall victim to any man.”

Through it all, Miss Corvus’s prevailing message had always been clear. Effie was alone—intrinsically, inherently alone. She could rely on no one but herself. A valuable lesson, given Miss Corvus’s own history, but one that had left Effie feeling isolated and abandoned. A girl with no place in the world where she belonged.

Until now.

Gabriel had said she belonged with him.

Effie met his gaze. He was still frowning. Still no doubt appalled. It was difficult to tell anymore. The softness that had been in his face when he’d told her that nothing else mattered was gone, replaced by something grim and implacable.

It made it easier for Effie rather than harder. Love and acceptance were unfamiliar waters, but she’d been navigating the stormy seas of adversity from childhood. Conflict was second nature to her.

“When I began to get restless,” she continued, “dwelling too much on my past, she sent me to Paris to act as companion to a wealthy widow. I was only summoned back last month.”

“Why now?” he asked.

“Because of Lord Compton.”

Gabriel’s expression darkened at the mention of the viscount’s name.

“His opposition to a married women’s property bill is an obstacle that must be overcome,” Effie said. “As I’m the oldest, and the best capable of moving in society, it was only logical Miss Corvus would—”

“Send you to infiltrate his inner circle?” A spark of fury blazed in Gabriel’s eyes. “Heartless is right. This champion of women you describe may as well have thrown you to the bloody wolves. If Compton gets wind of what you’re doing—”

“He has no idea,” Effie said. “He thinks all I’m concealing are my own reduced circumstances. That I’m looking for a protector—you, possibly.”

Gabriel’s gaze turned dangerous. “He said this?”

“His butler observed us coming out of the library on the night of the ball.”

“Did he,” Gabriel said flatly. It wasn’t a question.

“Lord Compton told me himself but three days ago. I called in Grosvenor Square. He showed me his antique book collection. He knows I have no money. No prospects. He assumes I’m weighing my options. Either you or…”

“Or him,” Gabriel concluded.

A shiver traced down Effie’s spine at the look in his eyes. She’d never seen him so angry. At his worst, he became cold and remote. But this…

This was something else.

“No more,” he said in a voice of perilous calm.

Her pulse skipped. “Gabriel, really—”

“No more chasing him. No more visiting his house and searching his rooms. I don’t want you within a mile of the man.” He caught her chin in his hand, compelling her to face him. His eyes burned into hers. “Do you understand me?”

A blush heated her face. She’d never been the subject of such hazardous intensity. Not even when he’d kissed her so passionately at Cremorne Gardens.

“Of course I do,” she said. “You’re attempting to order me about according to your whims. But I’m not finished with—”

“You’re finished,” he said.

Anger rose within her. She would have pulled her face away in outrage if he wasn’t holding her chin so firmly. “No,” she returned fiercely. “I’m not. Not until I’ve done what I set out to do.”

“And what am I meant to do?” he shot back. “If something were to happen to you—if Compton hurt you or that butler of his—”

“I can defend myself. No one is going to—”