Excerpt from The Hourglass Factory by Lucy Ribchester, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

'It's different, that didn't offend anyone.'

'Well why do you care?'

Frankie fiddled with her pencil.

'Come on and spit it out, or you shan't have any more gin.'

Frankie sighed. 'Ebony Diamond. She had this huge argument today with the man who makes her costumes. Right in front of me, got proper violent. I'm not sure what about, but she's big in the suffragettes and I just, I don't know. If I can get her trust I might be on to something. You know how desperate I am to get into reporting. Proper…' She suddenly stopped herself.

'Proper reporting,' Twinkle said dryly.

'I don't mean like that. I mean—'

'Puss, you want to watch that mouth of yours. It's going to get you in trouble one of these days.' Her hand roamed the covers until she found the head of a dead mink to fondle. 'You know you're not really a woman of independent means yet and let me tell you it takes a lot of hard work and quite a bit of doing things you don't like very much to get there. Greasing men's beards. Massaging gouty knees.' She smiled an eerie, indulgent smile. 'Do you think I bought all this by only working jobs I felt like?'

'I was only hoping…'

'You think that because you don't dress like the rest of us you are above all this froth and nonsense. The roaring girls were trussed up like that three hundred years before you. You sound as snotty-nosed as those self-righteous suffragettes you're so eager to stick up for.' Twinkle sulked, her gnarled pink hand fingering the rim of her glass.

'Twinkle, you know I only brought it up because I thought you'd know a thing or two about her. You know all the society girls.' Twinkle smiled weakly at the flattery. Newspapergirls, Frankie thought, were nursemaids as much as anything else. 'And,' Frankie continued, 'I thought if anyone would know what men in toppers were doing going into a corset shop after hours it would be you as well.' She tossed it out like fish bait. Twinkle suddenly looked sharply at her. Frankie couldn't be certain but she thought she saw a frown momentarily crease her forehead. Encouraged, she went on. 'Oh, crazy it was. I thought I was seeing things. You must know Smythe's, Bond Street. I bet you've got a couple of his corsets in that wardrobe.'

Twinkle's eyes had fogged over again with the gin. At length she said slowly, 'If I were you, I wouldn't go digging around either that girl or any goings-on at Smythe's. You might find yourself learning things you rather wish you'd left alone.'

Frankie sat up. 'So you do know the shop I mean?'

'Oliver Smythe's? Any woman worth her flesh knows that shop.'

'So why is it so special?' She inched forward. 'What do you know about it?'

Twinkle was silent for a moment, then looked at her coldly. 'Nothing I would dream of sharing with you.'

Frankie felt her organs beginning to boil.

Twinkle went on. 'You know I really do feel better after that bath. I think there's still enough fuel in the spirit lamp for you to have one too. You don't mind going after me—no of course you don't. Perhaps we'll write about it after all.'

Excerpted from The Hourglass Factory by Lucy Ribchester. Copyright © 2016 by Lucy Ribchester. Excerpted by permission of Pegasus Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.