Page 121 of Rules for Ruin

He glanced outside. They’d reached the entrance to Cremorne Gardens with uncommon speed. His speech would have to wait.

He opened the door for them and he and Effie jumped out. Passing through the black iron gates together, they made straight for the expansive grounds near Cremorne House. It was a temperate day, the skies blue and the white clouds billowing, with only a slight wind.

Ahead, the orchestra was playing a rousing tune, and clowns and acrobats capered past, dancing and juggling. Balloon ascensions were still a novel enough sight, but—despite the fine weather—today’s event hadn’t drawn a sizable crowd. It was likely owing to last week’s tragedy with Galezzo. In the aftermath, people had temporarily cooled on the pleasure gardens’ more dangerous feats.

There was only a smattering of ladies and gentlemen in attendance. They milled about the fringes of the rolling tree-edged lawn. At its center, a midsize red-striped silk-and-canvas balloon attached to a small gold-painted wicker gondola was anchored with the aid of sandbags and heavy ropes. A familiar figure stood beside it—a large, hulking bald man in a cloth coat, with a conspicuous plaster covering his left ear.

“It’s Parker,” Effie said grimly. “He doesn’t look best pleased. His ear must be paining him awfully.”

Gabriel regarded the butler with cold menace. The man had better get used to pain. By the time Gabriel finished with him, he’d need more than a blasted sticking plaster. He’d need a pine box.

Effie clutched Gabriel’s sleeve as she scanned the clusters of people. “There’s Lord Mannering and his sister. And there’s Miss Compton, with Lady Lavinia and Miss Whitbread. But where is Lord Compton? He must surely be nearby.”

Gabriel temporarily set aside his bloodlust for Parker and joined her in looking. He spotted the viscount standing on the opposite side of the balloon. He was talking with two ladies and an older gentleman. “There he is.”

Effie followed Gabriel’s gaze. Seeing Compton, her face paled with anger. “He’s spotted us.”

The viscount had indeed seen them. He smiled thinly from across the distance, touching his gleaming ebony walking stick to the brim of his gray silk hat in a brief salute. He moved away from his friends to a place of privacy by the trees.

Effie marched toward him. Gabriel kept pace at her side.

“Miss Flite,” Compton said. “I anticipated you would be here promptly.” He withdrew his pocket watch to check the time. “And not a minute too late.”

Effie’s countenance was hard as marble. “Where is he?” she demanded. “If you’ve hurt him—”

“And Mr. Royce.” Compton fixed Gabriel with a flinty stare. “Why am I not surprised?”

“She asked you a question,” Gabriel said. “Where’s the dog?”

“First things first.” Compton extended his hand. “My book, if you please?”

Effie thrust it at him. “Take it and be damned,” she said. “What have you done with my poodle?”

“Parker has taken charge of him,” Compton said. “He’s guarding Mr. Chapin’s balloon while Chapin takes tea in the refreshment tent. Parker has a great fondness for aeronautics. Never misses an ascent.” His lips curled. “I believe he’s put your little beast in the basket for safekeeping.”

Effie’s eyes widened in horror. “The basket of the balloon?”

“Safe enough, as I said. So long as you arrived in time.”

“You’re a monster,” Effie said. Turning away from him, she bolted toward Parker, her skirts clutched in her hands.

Gabriel moved to follow her.

“A moment, Royce,” Compton said, catching his arm.

Gabriel stopped. He faced the viscount, hard-pressed not to do the man violence. Indeed, were they not in full public view, he would do him violence, and hang the consequences.

“She’s told you what has transpired, I presume?” Compton asked.

“Every cursed detail,” Gabriel replied. He glanced after Effie. Parker was standing back from the balloon with a mutinous scowl, permitting her access to the wicker gondola. She climbed inside of it to retrieve Franc.

“It needn’t affect our business together,” Compton said. “So long as I have your word that Wingard’s papers are safe, and that you had nothing to do with Miss Flite’s regrettable actions, I am prepared for our arrangement to continue on the same terms.”

Gabriel’s gaze returned to his. “Our arrangement is finished,” he said. “You’re finished.”

Compton blanched. “Now see here, Royce—”

A shout drowned out the remainder of the viscount’s words. “What in blazes are you doing?” a fellow exclaimed. “Don’t touch those ropes!”