Bride for a Night

Then, with an effort, he shrugged off his peculiar mood and studied Gabriel’s sour expression. He could not deny a small measure of pleasure in witnessing his friend’s annoyance. Gabriel had become far too accustomed to having the world cater to his every pleasure. It did him good to have his puffed-up conceit occasionally deflated.

“She is certainly a woman of courage,” he pointed out in innocent tones. “There are few who would dare to ban you from their room.”

Gabriel scowled. “I was not banned by Talia, I was rousted by my own damned servants.”

“Your servants?”

“They began arriving at the crack of dawn.”

“Ah.” Hugo shrugged. “I suppose that is not surprising that they would desire to ensure you are well and unharmed after your adventures.”

“They were not concerned with my welfare, it was their beloved Lady Ashcombe whom they wished to ensure was unharmed,” Gabriel said with a grimace. “For God’s sake, Mrs. Donaldson was weeping in relief when I at last fled.”

Hugo’s eyes widened at the mere thought of the formidable housekeeper in tears. “Astonishing.”

“And to make matters worse, Talia has very firmly informed me that she intends to devote the rest of the day to visiting the tenants.”

Hugo shifted so he could glance toward the side of the house where the parkland gave way to a pretty pond. Beyond that the rolling fields were dotted with thatch-roofed cottages.

“Perhaps it is for the best,” he murmured, returning his attention to his companion. He easily recalled the tenants’ frantic searches for Talia when he and Gabriel had arrived at Carrick Park and their desperation for Gabriel to rescue her from the clutches of the evil French spy. “If she does not make an appearance, they will surely storm the house to reassure themselves that you have returned her as promised.”

Gabriel dismissed this logic with an impatient wave of his hand.

“She is still weary from her journey. She should be resting, not gadding about the countryside.”

Hugo chuckled, not fooled for a moment. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“I wonder if you are annoyed because she is not being allowed to rest or because you are being forced to share her attentions with others.”

With an imperious lift of his brow, Gabriel tilted his chin to glare down the length of his nose.

“I am the Earl of Ashcombe. I do not need to beg for the attentions of my wife.”

“If that were true, then the Earl of Ashcombe would not be spending his morning pacing the breakfast room in a mood so foul that the Lord of Rothwell is considering the pleasure of tossing him off the balcony.”

Gabriel heaved a harsh sigh. “I suppose you are right.”

“Naturally,” Hugo said smugly. “I am always right.”

“Be careful, Rothwell,” his friend growled. “My mood is still foul.”

Hugo smiled, resisting the urge to continue with his teasing.

“When do you intend to return to London?”

“It must be soon.” Gabriel paced the length of the balcony, seemingly indifferent to the spill of morning sunlight or the rose-scented breeze that ruffled his golden hair. “The

king and his council must know of the traitors as soon as possible.”

Hugo fully agreed. Every moment that passed was another moment that offered the traitors an opportunity to put British troops at risk.

“Why do you hesitate?”

Gabriel grimaced. “Talia will not be pleased when I tell her she must remain at Carrick Park.”

“Why would she not be pleased? She seems to prefer the countryside to the city.”