Bride for a Night(32)

“My reasons do not concern you,” he snapped.

There was a pause before Hugo reluctantly turned the conversation.

“Have you managed to track down your brother?”

Gabriel shook his head. He had sent two of his most trusted footmen in search of Harry the moment he’d realized he was missing, but thus far they had been unable to discover anything more than the rumor his brother was seen heading toward Dover. “Not yet.”

“Bastard,” Hugo hissed.

“He cannot elude me forever.” Gabriel gave a sharp laugh. “Not that it truly matters now.”

“No, the damage has been done.” Hugo studied him for a long moment, seeming to consider his next words. “May I ask where you have stashed your blushing bride?”

Gabriel arched a brow. “Do you fear I’ve locked her in the wine cellar?”

“The rumor is that she has been whisked off to one of your estates, although I hold out hope that you had the good sense to drown her in the Thames.” Hugo’s lips twisted with a cruel humor. “Or at the very least had her transported to the colonies.”

Gabriel’s hand landed on the table with enough force to rattle his coffee cup and create a startled twitter of alarm that rippled through the room.

He ignored the disturbance, his gaze locked on his friend.

“This is my wife we are discussing.”

Hugo frowned, his jaw jutted to a stubborn angle. “Yes, a grasping, overly ambitious harpy who does not even have the decency to possess a hint of grace or beauty.”


Gabriel leaned forward, not giving a damn that his fury was entirely unreasonable.

“Not another word,” he warned.

Glancing toward Gabriel’s tightly clenched expression, Hugo jerkily settled back in his seat.

“Damn, Ashcombe,” he growled. “What is the matter with you?”

It was a question that Gabriel had no answer for, nor did he particularly care at the moment. His only thought was ensuring his friend understood that Talia now belonged to him.

“I will not have anyone insulting the Countess of Ashcombe,” he snarled. “Including you.”

“Even if she forced you into marriage?”

“Talia…” Gabriel faltered, not certain he was prepared to share his doubts. “What?”

“She claims she had no desire to wed either Harry or myself,” he at last confessed.

Hugo waved his hand dismissively. “Of course she would deny trading her soul for a title. What woman would confess such a truth?”

“I am not completely convinced of her guilt.”

His friend hissed, his eyes darkening with shock. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “Take care, Hugo.”

“If she had no desire to wed, then all she had to do was say no. The days of buying and selling women as if they are cattle are long past,” Hugo pressed. “She could not have been forced into marriage.”

It was precisely what Gabriel had told himself, but now he glared at Hugo, barely resisting the urge to punch his closest friend in the nose.

“Have you had the misfortune to meet Silas Dobson?”

Hugo grimaced. “A nasty bit of goods, but a damned shrewd businessman. I have invested in his latest shipping venture.”

“He is an uncouth brute who makes a habit of terrorizing those in his power.”

“That does not mean Miss Dobson…”

“Lady Ashcombe.”

Hugo’s jaw tightened at Gabriel’s interruption. “It does not necessarily follow that your wife is a victim. It is quite likely she was a willing conspirator with her father in plotting to claim the highest available title.”