Page 34 of Rules for Ruin (The Crinoline Academy #1)

Two months later…

“Mr.Quincey has published another article about Lord Compton,” Effie said to Gabriel. Still in her ruffled lawn nightgown, she sat among the tangled coverlets of their carved four-poster bed, the early edition of the London Courant spread open before her. A tray was on the mattress beside her, the remains of their breakfast providing an unholy temptation to Franc.

The little poodle was staring at it fixedly, silently transmitting his desire. Effie absently tossed him a piece of bread crust. Franc caught it in a flash, hopping down from the bed to eat his prize in privacy.

Across the bedchamber, Gabriel stood in front of the washstand, clad in a pair of trousers and nothing else. The muscles of his bare chest flexed as he mixed up the lather for his morning shave.

He met Effie’s eyes in his shaving mirror. His pale blue gaze was warm, taking in her unbound hair and her naked shoulder, exposed by the drooping cap sleeve of her nightdress.

They had wed at the registrar’s office not two months ago, almost immediately after the balloon had brought them gently down on the green near Victoria Park. Life since then had been something of a perpetual honeymoon. They lingered in bed most mornings, reluctant to quit each other’s company. It had made them unreliable companions to their friends and business associates.

Gabriel didn’t mind. Quite the opposite. He frequently professed that there was no place he’d rather be than in Effie’s arms.

Effie readily admitted to feeling the same. Theirs was a passionate marriage—both of them possessed of strong tempers, decided views, and healthy appetites. It wasn’t unexpected that they should take such enormous enjoyment in each other. Indeed, the only surprising fact of their marriage was how exceedingly sweet it was.

Gabriel was an attentive husband, as tender as he was fierce. He never lost an opportunity to kiss her or to clasp her hand in passing. And when they were intimate together, in those scorching, honeyed moments when he took her and loved her, he left her in no doubt that she possessed him body and soul.

It was a heady feeling, to know someone cared for her this much. Effie was still not entirely accustomed to it. Neither was Gabriel, she suspected. He seemed to relish the intimacy of their new life together as much as she did. The brick house in Sloane Street with its black-painted door and its unconventional staff had become a home to them. A place of safety and sanctuary, where they had, at last, found themselves truly happy.

“Another one?” Gabriel asked as he lathered his face. “I’d have thought Quincey would be finished by now. Compton certainly is.”

The viscount’s public downfall had been as swift as it was decisive. Shortly after Mr.Quincey had published his story, exposing Compton’s fraud against Elizabeth Wingard, Compton had departed London in favor of his country estate. He’d spent the first month attempting to ride out the storm in Hampshire. But the storm hadn’t subsided. Calls for Compton to withdraw from politics had only grown in fervor.

Compton’s private life had been equally devastated by the revelations about his past. Rather than joining him in Hampshire in a show of solidarity, his wife and daughter had remained in London, where Miss Compton had lent her voice to the burgeoning women’s movement. Along with Mrs.Naismith, she had quickly become a fixture at Lady Bartlett’s salons in Kensington. Many in fashionable society interpreted her presence there as an unspoken condemnation of her father’s actions.

“Mr.Quincey says that Compton is abandoning his seat,” Effie said. “That he’ll no longer involve himself in affairs of Parliament.”

Gabriel lifted his razor. “It’s about time.”

“Yes, it is,” Effie agreed. “Now we need only deal with the remaining opposition to a married women’s property bill. With Compton gone, it shouldn’t be insurmountable.”

“I expect the revelations about his conduct have only strengthened the case.”

“I should say so.” Effie cast aside the paper. “Thank goodness for Mr.Quincey.”

Gabriel began shaving. “Speaking of Quincey…”

She raised her arms over her head in a languorous stretch. “What about him?”

“He’s been asking about the Academy.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Whatever for?”

“He may have found a connection between it and Elizabeth Wingard.”

“What?”

Gabriel once again met her eyes in his shaving mirror. “I told you, the man’s part bloodhound.”

“He doesn’t propose to print something about it, does he?”

“No,” Gabriel assured her. “I’ve told him, it’s off the table.”

“Then what?”

“He wants to talk to Miss Corvus.”

Effie gave a scornful huff. “That’s never going to happen.”

“Someone else, then,” Gabriel said. “What about your friend, Miss Trewlove?”

“Nell?” Effie had mentioned her to Gabriel several times, but the two of them had yet to meet. They were set to dine with her next week at an inn in the neighboring village to the Academy. Nell had invited them both particularly. “She would never submit to an interview.”

“Ask her,” Gabriel said. “Miles doesn’t bite.”

Effie thought on it as her husband finished shaving. It would be nice if Nell came to town. She deserved a bit of fun before taking up her permanent teaching position. Perhaps she might visit the theater as Effie had once suggested? Perhaps, she might even find a handsome gentleman to kiss?

Speaking of which…

Gabriel returned to the bed after rinsing and drying his face. He sank down beside her.

Effie reached up to caress his clean-shaven jaw. Her wedding ring—a large rose-cut diamond set on a band of gold—twinkled in the morning light. “Mmm,” she murmured her approval. “Pity you must go out.”

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Who says I must?”

“You have the Board of Works meeting to get to,” she reminded him.

Gabriel had been elected to one of the open seats at the end of May. He was already making a name for himself, zealously advocating for improved conditions for those in the Rookery.

“Not until ten,” he said, gathering her in his arms.

“It isn’t much time,” she remarked as she encircled his neck. “But I shan’t be greedy. We have our whole lives together, after all.”

“Forever,” he said huskily.

“Forever,” she whispered back.

He bent his head to kiss her. “I suggest we make the most of it.”