Bride for a Night

Gabriel scowled in exasperation. “If it is a tenant, you may bloody well inform them that they can wait their turn to speak with the countess.”

The stately McGordy did not so much as blink at the sharp words.

“It is not a tenant, my lord, it is a Miss Lansing.”

“Who?” Gabriel demanded in confusion.

Hugo was equally confused. He seemed to have a vague recollection of a Sir Lansing who was a minor baronet, but he surely had no connection to Silas Dobson or his daughter.

McGordy gently cleared his throat. “She claims to be a friend to her ladyship.”

“Oh.” Gabriel’s frown only deepened as he seemed to be struck by a sudden realization. “Yes, I have a vague recollection of her.”

Whatever his recollection of Miss Lansing, it obviously was not a pleasant one.

“Shall I inform the countess?” the butler inquired.

Gabriel gave a decisive shake of his head. “No, that will not be necessary. I will tend to Miss Lansing.”

“As you wish.”

“In fact, I prefer that my wife not be bothered with the knowledge that Miss Lansing was ever in Devonshire.”

Confusion briefly rippled over the servant’s face before he offered a stiff bow.

“As you wish.”

Waiting until they were once again alone, Hugo whirled to stab his companion with a black look.

“What the blazes is the matter with you?”

Gabriel folded his arms over his chest, his expression set in stubborn lines.

“I will not have Talia bothered.”

Hugo snorted. He did not consider himself an expert when it came to understanding the complicated female mind and what pleased them, but he was fairly confident that his mother and sisters adored receiving visitors, no matter what hour of the day.

“I doubt she would consider a visit from a friend as a bother.”

Gabriel shook his head, his features hardening with a frigid anger.

“My wife is too kindhearted to turn away a guest,” he said in lethal tones, “but I was witness to those females who pretended to be Talia’s friends when it was discovered she had been jilted by my brother.” He caught and held Hugo’s gaze, a shimmer of grim determination burning in the silver depths. “They filled her gardens and drank her champagne even as they laughed and mocked her humiliation.”

Fury raced through Hugo.

By God, he would ruin anyone who dared to insult the Countess of Ashcombe, he silently swore, refusing to recall his own scathing opinion of the shy, stammering Miss Dobson who had forced his friend into an unwanted marriage. Whatever his opinion in the past, he adored Talia. Those who thought they were at liberty to continue with their nasty ridicule would swiftly discover the error of their ways.

“This Miss Lansing mocked Talia?” he growled.

Gabriel shrugged. “Not within my hearing, but I will not take the risk of my wife being upset.”

Hugo fully agreed. No shrill-tongued harridan was going to disturb Talia while she was still fragile from her recent adventures.

“Leave it to me,” he announced.

Gabriel glanced at him in surprise. “You?”

“I will rid you of the vermin who seek to enter your home,” he promised, waving a hand toward a side door that led to a back staircase. “You join your wife and accompany her on her visit to the tenants.”