Bride for a Night(164)

“What of her temperament?”

“She is overly inclined to speak her mind, but I prefer her blunt speech to the empty flattery of most females,” Hugo said, his expression becoming defensive, as if he were bracing himself for an argument. “This much I can assure you—she traveled to Devonshire and risked being punished by her family because she was desperate to know that Talia was well. She was no false friend.”

Gabriel nodded. “You relieve my mind. I am pleased to know that Talia has such a loyal friend.”

Hugo’s tension eased and a sudden smile curled his lips. “Of course, I am not at all certain that I have yet to convince her that you are not a villain who is plotting to do away with your wife.”

Gabriel stiffened in outrage. “Is the female a lunatic? Why the devil would she believe I am plotting to do away with Talia?”

Hugo shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the thought that his friend was considered a murderous fiend.

“My theory is that she reads too many novels.”

Before he could retort, the door to the study was opened and a short, portly butler with thinning silver hair and a perpetual frown entered to offer a stiff bow.

Annoyed by the interruption, Gabriel fixed the servant with an impatient gaze. “Yes, Vale?”

“I thought you would wish to know that Lady Ashcombe arrived while you were out.”

“Bloody hell.” Gabriel reached for the brandy decanter, wondering if the day could get any worse. “I thought she was settled in Kent. Did she say what brings her to London?”

The servant cleared his throat, a hint of pompous disapproval in his expression.

“It is not the dowager, my lord, but the current Lady Ashcombe.”

The bottle landed back on the desk with enough force to make the glasses rattle. “Talia?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Gabriel was barely aware of Hugo shifting as he clenched his hands at his sides and attempted to leash his surge of frustration.

Dammit. Had he not made it clear that he wished for Talia to await him at Carrick Park?

Not that he should be surprised that she would deliberately flout his command. Talia was no longer the timid child he had wed. She was now a woman with her own mind who was quite capable of making her own decisions.

A quality he fully admired under most circumstances.

But how could he protect her if she refused to cooperate?

“When did she arrive?”

“Shortly after luncheon.” The butler sniffed, a lingering censure etched in his expression. “She demanded that her belongings be put into the master bedchamber.”

A wave of fury crashed through Gabriel as he stepped forward, barely preventing himself from planting his fist in the pompous face. Only the knowledge that the servants were bound to have taken their cue of how to treat Talia from his own mother kept him from violence.

“Vale, listen to me with great care,” he ordered in low, lethal tones. “Talia is not only the mistress of this house, but she is my most beloved wife. If I suspect that there is so much as one person on my staff who is not treating her with the utmost respect, I will have the whole lot of you thrown out into the streets.” He waited as Vale paled to a sickly hue, his double chin quivering in fear. “Is that perfectly understood?”

“Yes, of course.” He bowed deep enough his joints creaked. “My deepest apologies, my lord.”

“That will be all.”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand, watching the butler scurry from the room.

It would be an easy matter to force the servants to accept Talia once it became known he would endure no less than complete deference to her authority. And in time, of course, they would come to love her as those at Carrick Park did for her own sake.