Page 94 of Rules for Ruin

“I’ve procured a carriage to take us to Trowley Green,” he said. “Unless you renew your objection to my accompanying you there. In which case—”

Effie threw her arms around his neck.

His arm came around her waist in return, strong as a band of iron. He turned his face against the side of her bonnet. She felt him inhale a deep, uneven breath.

She understood then that he’d been uncertain of her. He, the untouchable, unemotional Gabriel Royce. He had come here in full anticipation of rejection. Yet, still he had come, because he cared about her.

God help her, she cared about him, too.

“I don’t object,” she said.

24

The small village of Trowley Green lay in a valley five miles from the railway station in Sawbridgeworth. Effie sat silently beside Gabriel in the hired carriage, an ever-increasing swell of anxiety constricting her breast.

It wasn’t only because of the revelations that may await her at Mrs. Young’s cottage. It was because of him.

The firm length of his body was pressed against her side, from the curve of her shoulder all the way to her knee. Beneath her layers of clothing, Effie was vibrating as keenly as a tuning fork.

This was what came of unrequited intimacies. They made one feel too much—want too much.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Since leaving Sawbridgeworth Station, Effie had been acutely conscious of the new edge of gruffness in Gabriel’s deep voice and the tender regard that lingered at the back of his eyes.

His every word and every look had worked on her heart as potently as a caress, reminding her of all they’d shared that night at Cremorne Gardens. Just the two of them, alone in the lamplit woods, in those scorching moments before things had fallen so terribly apart between them.

For heaven’s sake, how was she to pretend that she hadn’t kissed this man? That she hadn’t been clinging to him in the moonlight and whispering ridiculous things in his ear?

“She’s a widow,” he said.

She jerked to attention. “I beg your pardon?”

“The old woman in Trowley Green.” Gabriel’s gaze swept Effie’s veiled face. “A real one.”

Effie had kept her veil lowered the whole of her journey. A necessary precaution to protect her reputation. And not only that. Along with her crinoline, it provided a layer of armor between her and the greater world around her. Today, she found, she needed her armor more than ever.

“You mentioned she lived with her sister,” she said.

“That’s what one of my men told me. The sister’s a widow as well.”

Effie’s palms dampened beneath her gloves. She didn’t know how she was going to manage to adequately interrogate Mrs. Young without Gabriel learning anything compromising. What if the woman should reveal something untoward? What if—

But the time for what-ifs had passed miles ago.

“I know this Grace woman is important to you,” Gabriel said as their carriage entered the village high street. “But you’ve never mentioned why.”

“I told you. She was someone my family knew long ago.”

“A servant, I presumed. Your old nursemaid, or your childhood governess?”

Effie was in no frame of mind to spin him a yarn of half-truths. “I don’t remember the particulars of her position, only that her fate has always troubled me.”

“Your parents dismissed her?”

This time Effie didn’t reply. She looked out the window at the rolling green hills that surrounded the village, her hands clasped tight in her lap.

Gabriel’s frowning gaze lingered on her veiled face.