Page 59 of Rules for Ruin

“Yes, I see,” she said carefully. “I confess, I did think you might come today.”

He returned her opaque glance with an enigmatic look of his own. “Did you.” It wasn’t a question.

They were far from the busy promenade now. No one was likely to remark them walking together unchaperoned. Even if they did, they would think them no different from any other courting couple who had broken away from the ranks for a private stroll.

“Perhaps not in the park,” Effie said. “And not in this informal manner. But…yes. After what happened between us last night, a gentleman would waste no time in calling to pay his respects.”

He held her gaze. Something in his face made Effie’s breath constrict. “You believe I’m here because I kissed you?”

The air crackled around them. Effie ignored it as best she could, recognizing the tactic for what it was. He was attempting to put her on the back foot. To provoke her into saying or doing something that would reveal her secret objectives.

It was the same thing Effie was doing to him.

“You did promise that we were due a serious conversation,” she reminded him. “I presumed it must be about your intentions.” She conjured a tremulous smile. “If you mean to court me—”

He muttered something under his breath. It sounded like an oath.

“You do, don’t you?” Effie pressed him. “Indeed, most fashionable people would agree that, after the intimacies you inflicted on me, a proposal of marriage would be—”

Gabriel caught her arm, cutting off her speech. “You infernal minx,” he said in a low growl, bringing her around to face him in a swirl of her poplin skirts. “It would serve you right if I did propose to you.”

Effie’s heart leapt. She was briefly startled into a genuine smile. She swiftly disguised it.

But it was too late.

His cold expression softened a fraction. So did his grip on her arm. “And I inflicted a kiss on you, did I?”

She lowered her lashes. “As to that…”

“I seem to recall you getting into the spirit of it.”

Heat crept up her throat. She prayed it wouldn’t seep into her face where he could see it. “I obviously wasn’t thinking straight. That was the whole reason you were there.”

“And why were you there?” he demanded. “And what were you up to today when you were meant to be safe in Brook Street recovering from your ordeal last night?”

She lifted her gaze in bewilderment. “Whoever said I would be remaining indoors for the day?”

“Any other lady would have—”

“What? Taken to her bed? Called for her sal volatile? You must think me a very poor-spirited female.”

“What I think,” he said, “is that you might have at least done me the courtesy of staying out of trouble for the next twenty-four hours after you left me last night.”

Effie stared at him. Is that what this was about? He’d presumed she would be safe in Brook Street, but instead he’d discovered that she’d put herself in some kind of danger? Was that why he’d come all this way, absent his hat and gloves, even going so far as to call at the Belwoods’ residence to find her? Because he was concerned about her?

The possibility warmed her to her silk stocking–clad toes. An inconvenient reaction. She didn’t need any more reason to like the man.

“I’m not in trouble,” she said in an effort to reassure him.

“If that’s what you believe,” he replied without a hint of sentimentality, “you’re either woefully overconfident or spectacularly ignorant—or both.”

Her mouth compressed in a tight line. She instantly discarded the ridiculous notion that he was driven by concern. Her suspicions reverted to their original course. He wasn’t here for her. He was here for himself, and—very probably—for Compton.

Effie pointedly removed her arm from his grasp. “I’m glad you didn’t come to court me,” she informed him as she resumed walking with Franc. “A union built on insults and underestimation would never have worked.”

Gabriel overtook her. His glower was palpable. “This isn’t a jest, Effie.”

“I’m not jesting,” she said. “Though I am pleased to see you’ve dispensed with the needless formalities.”