Page 61 of The Marriage Method

Given the chance, she’d done just as Miles had predicted she’d do yesterday evening. She had chosen to stay with Mrs. Royce rather than remain with him. This time it was just for the day. Next time…

Who knew.

Miles downed a swallow of his drink with a grimace. It was whiskey, after all. He didn’t normally partake this early in the day, but needs must. “It hardly matters,” he said. “We didn’t wed because of an attraction on either of our parts.”

Gabriel chuckled. “If you say so.”

Miles glowered at him. “What are you implying?”

“That you’re flesh and blood.”

“And have been for many years. I’ve never succumbed to temptation yet. Not when it went so thoroughly against my own inclinations.”

“But this time…the temptation was great indeed.”

Miles finished the remainder of his whiskey in one swallow. He set down his glass on the tray. “As productive as this conversation is, I’m due back at the paper.” He turned to go.

Gabriel’s voice sounded at his back. “You should have taken my advice and let the subject of the Academy drop.”

Miles stopped where he stood. “This is my fault, is it?”

“Entirely.”

Miles turned back to face his friend. “Because once a member of the Academy enters the picture, mortal men don’t stand a chance, is that it?”

Gabriel took a drink. “Something like that.”

“That may be the case with your wife—”

“Careful,” Gabriel said.

Miles ignored the warning. “My own is a different matter.”

“I don’t doubt it. Unlike mine, yours chose to make the Academy her life. She was in a position of power. If you imagine you can file her away in a corner while you go on as if nothing has changed, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

Miles stiffened at the charge. It was too uncomfortably close to what he’d originally intended to do. “What do you know of the Academy? Or about my wife’s role there?”

“I know some of the locals in the neighboring village call it the Crinoline Academy. An apt description, I thought—all the ladies girded in steel. Other than that…” Gabriel shrugged. “I know nothing more than you do yourself.”

The Crinoline Academy.

It was indeed an apt description. But as information went, it was nothing like the sort Miles was interested in.

“What has your wife told you about the place?” he asked.

Gabriel leaned back against the windowsill. He swirled his whiskey in his glass. It sparkled like melted gold in the sunlight. “Precious little.”

“Nothing about their curriculum?”

“Ah.”

“Then you do know.”

Gabriel raised his glass to his lips. “I know they can defend themselves.”

Miles recalled Nell raising her cane to Mrs. Pritchard’s chest with a practiced flick of her wrist. “And that’s all?”

“What else? I’ve not yet met Miss Corvus. I’ve never even been permitted inside the gates.”