Page 62 of Rules for Ruin

But he wasn’t some green lad begging reassurance from his first woman.

And she wasn’t his woman at all.

“Madame was taken with an apoplexy when I returned to the apartment with him,” Effie continued. “But Franc and I weren’t to be separated. He was mine, and I was his, and that was all there was to it.”

Franc bestowed a phlegmatic sniff on a clump of weeds as his mistress finished her tale. He was far ahead on the path, at the very end of his lead, seeming to pay her no attention at all.

“Not the most fearsome protector,” Gabriel observed.

“On the contrary,” she said. “Franc could disarm anyone who attempted to harm me. I’ve taught him a great many commands for the purpose.”

Gabriel chuckled. “I’ll bet.”

Effie arched a brow at him in challenge. “Franc?” She whistled. “Faire le tour.”

The poodle’s small head jerked up. He at once sprang into action, tiny paws flying as he returned to Effie at a gallop. Still attached to his long velvet lead, he circled Gabriel three times, wrapping the lead around Gabriel’s legs and effectively bringing him to a halt. After the third revolution, Franc stopped and looked at Effie in canine expectation.

“Bon travail,” Effie told him.

Franc’s tail quivered with pleasure.

Gabriel dropped a sardonic look at his bound limbs. “Is that all? Or does he do something else?”

“Franc? No.” Effie stepped forward. Her full skirts pressed against the front of Gabriel’s legs. “But I can do anything.” She brought the flat of her hand to his chest, giving him a light push. “See? You’re my prisoner.”

Gabriel gazed down at her. A peculiar heaviness formed in his breast.

The sun shone through the tree branches, streaking the landscape in dappled warmth. Its rays kissed her upturned face, turning her skin to gold.

He was struck, all at once, by the visceral memory of how she’d looked on the terrace. She’d had no mask to protect her, then. No clever quips or catlike smiles to shield the rawness of her soul. Only an aching vulnerability too cumbersome for her to carry.

Once seen, it couldn’t be unseen. Even now, when she stood so straight and strong, with her little dog beside her, willing to take on Compton. Willing to take on Gabriel, too, if it came to that. The vulnerability was still there, a shadow beneath the surface of her.

It provoked an answering ache of vulnerability in Gabriel.

He set his hand over hers. His heart beat heavily beneath her palm. He was certain she felt it. “Surprisingly effective,” he said.

The triumphant gleam in her eyes dimmed. It was replaced by something watchful and uncertain. For all her boldness, she was still a young lady.

And he was still a man.

“I seem to be at your mercy,” he told her.

“Exactly my point.” There was a forced briskness in her voice, underscored by a trace of breathlessness. Slipping her hand from beneath his, she quickly slid Franc’s lead free of Gabriel’s legs. “Size isn’t everything. There’s intelligence, inventiveness, and loyalty. Not to mention the power of surprise. Any one of them is more valuable than brute strength.”

Gabriel’s mouth quirked. He’d succeeded in flustering her. There was some satisfaction in it. He had no desire to be the only one affected by this growing attraction between them. “So that’s to be the culmination of your London season, is it? A retired life somewhere with your dog?”

“If I can clear a path for a married women’s property bill, yes.” She took a step back from him, adjusting Franc’s lead. “I shall go away somewhere, far from here, where Franc and I can live in happy obscurity.”

Gabriel’s expression sobered. He liked the idea of her disappearing into some invisible existence even less than he liked the idea of her risking her neck. “How does searching Compton’s bedchamber help your cause?”

“Not his bedchamber. His study.” She paused again. “I have it on good authority that Lord Compton stands in the way of the bill being introduced into Parliament.”

Gabriel’s brows lowered. “So, you intend to compel his support through…what? Blackmail?”

It was the exact course Gabriel had chosen himself. A hazardous course. The thought of Effie—

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Blackmail is a loathsome business.” She smoothed her gloves. “I intend to remove Compton from the board entirely.”