Page 83 of My Darling Rogue
Shewouldnot let it happen.
“Thank you, pet. I don’t know when I shall return today. I must meet with Carraway and discuss arrangements for dowry funds. Once they are transferred into your own account, only you will have access. I will not dictate how you spend it, nor will I have an accounting of its spending. It is yours.”
“You are too good to me, Gabriel.” Celia bit her bottom lip, realizing just how true that was. She’d married a man who surpassed all her expectations when it came to husbandly attributes. A man who would protect her from the world if necessary.
Gabriel leaned over onto the bed, his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her closer, landing a sweet but fiery kiss on her lips. “I’ll do anything for you, Celia. Do you understand? Anything and everything. Even when you don’t know what it is that you need, I will provide it. And should I need to burn the world down giving it to you, I shall.”
* * *
After dressingwith Katie’s help, Celia made her way down to the foyer. Mister Harold, the butler, kindly showed her the various rooms on the main floor. Along the way, he introduced various maids and footmen, imparting tidbits of information about the enormous house. She was shown the kitchen, the ballroom, all five drawing rooms, and the library.
Mister Harold also took her by Gabriel’s study. Peeking inside, Celia could see her husband had already put his own touch on the space. It was warm and superbly decorated in muted tones of gold and deep scarlet. The colors of the Rosenthorne marquessate.
“Which way should I go to reach the stables?” Celia asked Mister Harold.
The elderly man gave her directions, and with a sick feeling, Celia exited the house.
The sun was a fiery ball in the morning sky as she followed the gravel path leading to the large building at the back of the manor. The stables bustled with energy as groomsmen and stableboys mingled with skilled workers making repairs. It appeared some parts of the structure had fallen into disrepair over the years.
The head stablemaster offered to give her a tour, but Celia declined. She would rather not keep the man from his work, she explained with a tight smile. But the real reason was she was more comfortable exploring alone without any witnesses in case Bryan made contact.
There were several horses inside their stalls. Arion occupied a roomy box stall. He nickered at seeing Celia’s approach, hanging his head over the stall door and tossing it to gain her attention.
“Hello, sweet boy,” she crooned, rubbing his large head with the heel of her palm. “Are you settling in?”
She glanced around as she spoke, apprehensive that she would see Bryan, yet even more anxious when she did not. Was it possible the man had left on his own after seeing her? Had he realized the danger of staying?
Please let that be the way of it. It will solve so many problems.
“So, you found a man t’marry you. Even if you were damaged goods.”
Bryan’s voice was rough and coarse, and when Celia whirled around, she was taken aback by his physical appearance.
He was no longer the boyishly handsome man for whom she’d suffered her first crush. Having only had a fleeting glimpse of him the day before, she saw him quite clearly now. He was gaunt, his hair thinning and his features sallow and pinched.
He smiled cruelly in recognition of her shock. “Aye, I may look different, but you, milady, you look as fine a picture as you did that night in the stables.” His watery blue gaze moved over Celia, taking in the obvious wealth of her clothes and the pearls adorning her ears before dropping to the ring on her finger. His eyes gleamed with avarice.
Celia drew back her shoulders, determined not to cower despite the overwhelming terror at seeing him again. “You did not damage me, Bryan. And yes, I am married now. To one of the most powerful men in all of England. While I shouldn’t give a farthing for your wellbeing, I cannot help but warn you that is it very dangerous for you to remain here. You must leave. For your own safety.”
Bryan’s head tilted as he laughed. “For my safety, lass? I am in no danger.”
“If my husband discovers who you are,what youdid, he will kill you. I promise you that.”
The man smirked, then with a quick glance around to see if anyone watched them, he sidled closer. He made a pretense of straightening Arion’s halter where it hung on a hook beside the stall door and ignored the agitated shaking of the stallion’s head. “Was your husband himself what gave me a job.”
Icy cold dread permeated Celia’s blood. She stared mutely at the man, unable to even voice words, struck silent just as she’d been that terrible night so many years before.
Bryan clucked his tongue. “You didn’t know? I’ll clear matters for you. You see, I saw you at that inn just after your marriage. You and him. I asked the marquess that very night if he had need of servants, and he directed me to Rosenthorne Park. But the estate manager said I would be of more use in town. Now, your husband probably doesn’t remember me, but that’s all right. I’m not here for him.”
When he stepped toward her, Celia instinctively retreated.
“No, lass. I’m here for you. Do you remember back then I told you to keep your mouth shut or it would go badly for you? Now, it’s you worrying that I can keep me own trap closed. After all, we don’t want the marquess finding out who’s been with his wife, do we? We don’t want all those toffs knowing milord married a whore what spread her legs for the first man who told her she was pretty.”
Celia trembled when Bryan reached out and ran a finger along the length of her arm. His gaze was contemplative as he stared her down. She smelled the faint odor of sour ale. It emanated from his body and breath.
Is that the cause of his physical decline? An abundance of drink?
“Such finery. I imagine you have lots of pretty things that can keep a man’s mouth shut, don’t you? Fine things that will keep a man in the things he enjoys. Drink. Women. A turn of the cards now and then.” His eyes once again touched on Celia’s wedding ring. She folded her hand over it as though that would protect it from avarice.
