“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.”

Gabriel stared at her, both impressed and astounded by her audacity. He’d thought her an intelligent woman, not a simpleton. “Do you imagine you can move a man like Compton about like a token on a game board?”

“I don’t presume it will be easy,” Effie said. “He is, by all accounts, a powerful man.”

“A very powerful one,” Gabriel returned. “And one who’s essential to my business.”

She gave him a curious look. “I thought you only required him to help reform St. Giles? Are you saying he’s involved with your betting shop as well?”

“Not involved, no. But he keeps the wolf from my door.”

A wry twinkle flickered in the depths of her violet blue eyes. “Funny. I thought you were the wolf.”

His heart thumped hard. He ignored it. “There are all manner of wolves in London. The trick is learning how to tell the useful ones from the ones who’ll rip your throat out.”

“No one is going to rip my throat out. Indeed, I’d like to see them try. But I appreciate your warning.” She smiled again, this time with a trace of regret. “I suppose this means we must be enemies. Pity. I’d rather hoped we might be friends.”

“I’m not your enemy, Effie,” he said.