Page 33 of Rules for Ruin (The Crinoline Academy #1)

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Effie hunkered down in the bottom of the gondola, holding Franc. Terror threatened at the edges of her consciousness. She refused to let it rob her of her self-control. Gabriel was here. He’d said he wouldn’t let her fly away, and she believed him.

The basket rocked back and forth as the men pulled on the ropes. Despite their efforts, she didn’t appear to be returning to earth. The balloon continued to float upward, wind buffeting the silk and canvas. It seemed to be rising at a steady clip.

Fear constricted her chest. “Gabriel!” she cried out.

The basket swayed sharply on another tug of the rope.

“Almost there,” Gabriel called back. His voice no longer sounded as though it was coming from a distance below. It was close. Exceedingly close.

Effie looked up in alarm as his hand appeared over the edge of the gondola.

“What in the—?” She got up in a flash, leaving Franc on the floor of the basket. Dizziness assailed her. She ignored it. So long as she didn’t look down, she would be all right. The alternative was letting Gabriel fall.

She grabbed him by the shoulders as he heaved himself up. Clouds billowed ahead, a stark reminder of how high up they were. Higher even than Mr.Galezzo had been when he’d fallen from his wire. If Gabriel lost his grip—

If Effie lost hers—

But she didn’t think. She only acted.

Wind whipping at her face, she grasped Gabriel by the waist, helping him swing over the side and into the gondola. The basket tilted wildly as he landed beside her, his hair disheveled and his chest heaving from exertion.

Together, they sank down to the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms. Franc frisked about them, his pom-pom tail quivering with joy.

The crowds below set up an enormous cheer.

Gabriel struggled to catch his breath. “I should have said, ‘You’re not going anywhere alone.’?”

Effie didn’t know whether to kiss him or strangle him. “You daft man. What on earth were you thinking? You might have fallen—”

“No chance.”

“But to climb that rope—”

“Had to. It was the only way to get to you.”

She shook her head in wonderment. “You’re mad.”

“Clearly.” He smiled at her. His pale blue eyes gleamed with unvarnished affection. “I’ll say one thing for you, sweetheart. You’re never dull.”

Franc climbed into Effie’s lap. She wrapped an arm around him as the balloon was carried along on a soft blowing breeze. The gondola swayed to the left. Effie’s trembling stomach swayed with it. She briefly closed her eyes, leaning into Gabriel’s embrace. “I wish life were dull at present. Anything rather than this.”

Gabriel held her as protectively as she held Franc. He looked around the interior of the gondola. It contained folded blankets, a hamper of food, a writing box, several maps, and a leather compass case. There was even a red silk–padded seat for those who weren’t disposed to sit on the floor.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said. “You and me in absolute privacy, and no way either of us can storm off?”

“I’ve never stormed off,” she replied, on her dignity.

He cocked a brow at her. “In Hyde Park?”

“I was furious with you.”

“And on the train at Waltham Station?”

“I wasn’t furious then, but…” She wrinkled her nose. “The timing was less than ideal.”

“Timing,” he said. “Another thing in our favor today.”

“Yes. We’re stuck up here, aren’t we?” Effie suppressed another tremor of terror. She couldn’t dwell on how high up they were. It would only lead to gibbering panic. “When do you suppose we’ll land?”

“Soon,” he said. “But not before I’ve had a chance to tell you what I came to say in Brook Street.”

She gave him an uncertain glance. She’d been too distraught when he arrived at the Belwoods’ house to fully consider what had brought him there. All she knew was that, for bookmakers, the Derby was the most important event of the year. And instead of being there, Gabriel was here.

The significance of it wasn’t lost on her.

He gazed down at her steadily. His expression grew serious. “I tried to tell you in the carriage, but you were too distracted. Understandably so, with Franc missing.”

Effie hugged the little poodle close. “I have him back now, thank heaven. He’s in excellent spirits, and doesn’t appear to have been harmed. My only regret is that I had to give up the book to earn his freedom.”

“The book, yes,” Gabriel murmured.

“It was the sole proof I had against Compton. Without it…” She was loath to admit she’d been outmaneuvered. But one must face facts. “I suppose I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t failed,” Gabriel said. “Book or no book, Compton’s reign as Lord Solomon is over.”

Effie lifted her head from Franc. A hopeful thought occurred to her. “You’re not saying you’ll give me Wingard’s papers?”

“I can’t give them to you,” he said. “I don’t have them anymore.”

She stared at him in alarm. “What do you mean you don’t have them?”

“This morning, when I returned from Epsom, I collected Wingard’s papers from my safe and I took them to Miles Quincey. As of this moment, they’re in the possession of the London Courant .”

Effie’s mouth nearly fell open. The implications were extraordinary. “Are you saying that Mr.Quincey is going to publish a story about what Compton did to Elizabeth Wingard?”

Gabriel nodded. “He’s a hardheaded, cynical bastard at the best of times, but Miles is fearless when it comes to a good story. This is just the kind of piece he lives for. He says he’ll publish the whole of it.”

“Goodness,” Effie breathed. “It will be explosive. Possibly libelous. Is Mr.Quincey prepared?”

“Not only prepared, but eager. He presumes Compton will sue, but it doesn’t trouble him. Apparently, truth is an absolute defense—whatever that means. At any rate, it’s done. And there will be no connection to you. You’ll be safe from blame. You can even remain in society if you choose.”

Emotion rose in Effie’s throat. “Why did you do it?”

Gabriel shrugged one broad shoulder. “For you. For love. Why have I done any of the crackbrained things I’ve done recently?”

She swallowed hard. For love, he’d said. Love.

As ever, he seemed to read her mind. His mouth hitched at one corner. It was the same wry half smile he’d given her on countless occasions, but this time it wasn’t accompanied by a coolly detached stare. There was nothing distant or remote in the way he was looking at her. He was here with her body and soul.

“I love you, Effie Flite,” he said. “ That’s what brought me back from Epsom. It’s what brought me here. What’s been driving me since the moment you threatened to knock me down. Before you walked into that library, I didn’t have a future. Only endless, empty days and every one of them with more of the same. But not anymore. I dream of building a life with you, if you’ll have me. If you’ll let me love you—”

She framed his face with her hands and kissed him.

His arm tightened around her waist as her lips shaped to his. His brow creased. “Effie—”

“I love you, too, Gabriel,” she said.

It wasn’t the first time she’d uttered the words. They nevertheless sent a visible jolt through him. He made a gruff sound in his throat as he kissed her back, fiercely, deeply.

And she forgot they were sailing far above the ground. There was no such thing as heights or fear or gravity. Nothing else existed except them and their love for each other.

“But what about the Rookery?” she asked when they finally paused for breath.

Gabriel held her fast. Franc was no longer between them. He’d abandoned Effie’s lap in favor of the stack of blankets on the floor of the gondola. “I’m still going to reform it, but not with the help of some feckless politician. I’ll do it myself. I’m going to run for a seat on the St. Giles District Board of Works. After that, who knows? Perhaps I’ll stand for Parliament. There are already villains aplenty in politics. One more won’t do any harm.”

Her fingers threaded in his hair. This time, no gloves impeded her. She could pet him as much as she liked. Indeed, he appeared to relish her proprietary touches. He held still for every caress, his breath fracturing in the most delicious way.

“Oh, Gabriel,” she said. “What a splendid plan.”

His lips brushed over her cheek. “Then, you approve?”

“Entirely. If you’re in Parliament, you can assist the passage of a married women’s property bill. With Compton out of the way, there’s every chance it will come to a vote.”

He gave a husky chuckle. The sound tickled her ear as sensually as a purr.

“You would support it, wouldn’t you?” she asked him.

“Darling,” he said, “I’m yours to command.”

She smiled. “I shall try not to let it go to my head.”

His hand moved over her back. His expression sobered. “I should tell you, this likely means an end to my betting shop. I’ll have no great riches. No particular power. If you join your lot to mine, minx, you must take me as I am.”

Effie recalled his offer to her on their return from Trowley Green. “What are you proposing this time?”

He slowly drew back to meet her gaze. His face was as serious as she’d ever seen it. Only his eyes betrayed the truth of his vulnerability. The deepest desires of his heart were written there, laid bare for her to see. “Marriage,” he said.

A gust of wind whistled over them, snapping against the silk of the balloon.

Effie scarcely noticed. The whole of her attention was focused on Gabriel’s face. His answer wasn’t the one she’d been expecting. “On the train, you said—”

“I know what I said then. I was playing the odds. Offering you what I thought you’d accept, instead of what I truly wanted—you as my wife. I want no more question in your mind about where you belong. Which reminds me—” Releasing her, he reached into the pocket of his waistcoat. “I have something for you.”

Effie watched, pulse quickening, as he withdrew a flat velvet box from his pocket. It wasn’t shaped like a ring box. It was something else. She couldn’t imagine what.

He handed it to her.

She felt the weight of his regard as she lifted the lid. The sun caught the contents, making them sparkle and flash like wildfire.

Her heart stopped.

It was a dragonfly brooch. And not one made of cut glass. This was comprised of real jewels, with wings of rose-cut diamonds, a body of square-cut emeralds, and a face of glittering cabochon rubies.

She lifted her gaze, stunned.

Gabriel’s color was high. “I went to buy a ring,” he said. “The jeweler had this in the display cabinet. It’s not a hairpin. You can’t pick a lock with it. Still…It was too great a temptation to pass up.”

She looked at him in amazement. “I thought you believed dragonflies were bad luck?”

“You and I make our own luck,” he said. Removing the brooch from the box, he helped her secure it to her cherry red jacket, pinning it right above her heart. His fingers lingered there, his head bent to hers. “Marry me, Effie. Say you’ll be mine. I’m already yours. I have been since the night we met.”

Effie brought her forehead to rest gently against his brow. She had never seriously contemplated joining her fate to another. Her life up to now had been spent on the outside of things. Never belonging. Never quite fitting in. The future, for her, had seemed a lonely road, meant to be traveled with only Franc as her companion.

But no longer.

She knew who she was now. She knew what it was she truly wanted. Perhaps what she’d always wanted. And it wasn’t fine dresses, or wealth and position. It was this. It was him.

It was love.

For that, she’d risk anything. Even marriage.

“I am yours,” she whispered. “And yes, I will marry you.”

Gabriel exhaled an uneven breath. “You said yes.”

Her eyes glistened, her mouth curving in a tremulous smile. “I said yes.”

His arms circled her waist and his mouth captured hers. He kissed her again, and then again, smiling himself now, telling her he loved and adored her, that they would wed without delay.

Somewhere below them, beneath the clouds, Big Ben chimed the quarter hour as they floated over Westminster. The future beckoned, filled with revolutionary possibility. Effie no longer feared it. Whatever it held, she knew that she and Gabriel—and Franc—would face it together.