About the Book:

No one betrays the Academy. But now Euphemia must decide: break the rules for her enemy, or let the rules break her heart.

 

On the outskirts of London sits a seemingly innocuous institution with a secretive aim—train young women to distract, disrupt, and discredit the patriarchy. Outraged by a powerful lord’s systematic attack on women’s rights in Parliament, the Academy summons its brightest—and most bitter—pupil to infiltrate the odious man’s inner circle. A deal is struck: bring down the viscount, and Miss Euphemia Flite will finally earn her freedom.

But betting shop owner Gabriel Royce has other plans. The viscount is the perfect pawn to insulate Gabriel’s underworld empire from government interference. He’s not about to let some crinoline-clad miss destroy his carefully constructed enterprise—no matter how captivating he finds her threats.

From the rookeries of St. Giles to the ballrooms of Mayfair, Euphemia and Gabriel engage in a battle of wits and wills that’s complicated by a blossoming desire. Soon Euphemia realizes it’s not the broken promises to her Academy sisters she should fear. . . . It’s the danger to her heart.

 

Available at Amazon (U.S.)  https://amzn.to/3FmRUiC

About the Author:

USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews writes both historical nonfiction and award-winning Victorian romances. Her novels have received starred reviews in Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus, and Shelf Awareness, and her articles have been featured on the Victorian Web, the Journal of Victorian Culture, and in syndication at BUST Magazine. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, a miniature poodle, a Sheltie, and two Siamese cats.  (Photo courtesy of Vickie Hahn.)

Read an Excerpt:

Lord Compton bowed to the two late arrivals. “Lady Belwood. Miss Flite.” His eyes lingered on the younger lady’s face for a moment before he grudgingly acknowledged the necessity of introducing Gabriel. “Allow me to present Mr. Royce, an acquaintance of mine. We’ve been discussing a charitable endeavor, but all is settled now. I’ve invited him to join us. Mr. Royce? My wife, Lady Compton. And this is our near neighbor, Lady Belwood, and her companion, Miss Flite.”

Masking his growing impatience, Gabriel bowed to the three ladies as civilly as if he were a gentleman himself. “Lady Compton. Lady Belwood. Miss Flite.”

As he straightened, he held Miss Flite’s gaze a fraction longer than was proper. Her eyes were the deepest blue he’d ever seen. More akin to a deep midnight purple in the gaslight.

“Miss Flite has just returned from finishing school in Paris,” Lady Belwood said, with a flutter of her ostrich feather fan. “She’s staying with me in Brook Street for the season.”

“A relation of yours?” Compton asked. “I seem to remember one of your second cousins married an Italian. Or was it a Spaniard?”

Lady Belwood wafted her fan with increased vigor. “Miss Flite is not a blood relation. I was, ah, acquainted with her guardian when I was a girl. I promised, when the time came, I would introduce Miss Flite into society. It is the least I can do for her.”

“I’m amazed I’ve not encountered you before, Miss Flite,” Lady Compton said. “Is this your first visit to London?”

“It is, my lady,” Miss Flite replied. A faceted glass hairpin in the shape of a dragonfly was nestled in her hair. It sparkled as she moved.

Lady Compton flicked a dubious glance over Miss Flite’s elegant face and figure. “You don’t strike me as a country girl. But if you’ve been finished in Paris—”

“Finishing schools accomplish marvelous things these days,” Lady Belwood interjected. “The girls they turn out have remarkable polish. One can take them anywhere.”

Gabriel directed a cold glare at Compton. It was bad enough to have his time wasted by old country squires and frivolous, fan-fluttering ladies, but now he must affect an interest in finishing schools? Until Gabriel had intervened, the children of the Rookery had had no school at all. Boys and girls of five had already been working. The alternative was starvation.

Compton pretended not to notice Gabriel’s ire. He kept his attention fixed on his wife—and on Miss Flite.

“You must bring her with you to the musicale next week,” Lady Compton said. “My daughter, Carena, will be back from Hampshire. She’s to perform an aria for us from Lucrezia Borgia. There will be a dinner to start.” She touched Lady Belwood’s arm. “You are still planning to attend?”

Miss Flite exchanged a wordless glance with Lady Belwood.

Lady Belwood appeared distinctly uncomfortable. “Err, yes. That is, I had thought—”

“Oh, but you must,” Lady Compton insisted. “We see too little of you. And Miss Flite will certainly wish to make the acquaintance of other young people.”

Lady Belwood smiled thinly. “If you insist, then naturally I shall bring her.”

The two older ladies lapsed into a short discussion about the dinner, and about the many events to come before the season’s end. Compton was included by virtue of his wife who sought his opinion on every subject.

Miss Flite and Gabriel were temporarily left outside the conversation. They stood silent across from each other—Miss Flite attending to what the others were saying, and Gabriel poised to make his exit.

He hadn’t come here to engage in polite small talk about dinner parties and musicales. His time would be better spent in conversation with one of those aged country squires. At least then there would be a hope in hell of gaining influence for the people of the Rookery. Here there was nothing.

A civil word or two to Miss Flite and then he would take his leave.

Their eyes met briefly.

“A finishing school in Paris, was it?” Gabriel inquired.

“That’s correct.” Miss Flite returned her attention to the others.

“And were you?” he asked.

She glanced back at him again, distracted. “Was I what, sir?”

“Finished?”

Her mouth curved into a slow, feline smile. “On the contrary,” she said. “I’m just getting started.”

Gabriel smiled fleetingly in return, mildly amused by what he perceived as ladylike flirtation. He was about to reply, when he realized Miss Flite hadn’t been looking at him when she’d spoken.

She’d been looking at Compton.

 

Excerpted from Rules for Ruin by Mimi Matthews Copyright © 2025 by Mimi Matthews. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.