“Keep this door locked and do not wait up for me. I won’t return until long after you’ve fallen asleep.” He turned the doorknob and hesitated as if reminded of something. “I will have one of the coachmen stand watch for your safety until I come back. Enjoy your dinner.”

Celia bit her lip, obviously concerned about being left alone, but her chin rose even higher. “I wish you a pleasant evening, dear husband.”

Gabriel did not respond to the faint mockery in her tone as he exited the room, locking the door behind him as he went.

CHAPTER 30

Gabriel sent Jeremiah to guard the door to their room, and then he found a table and ordered an ale.

He ordered another when that one was done, then sat and stared at the fire for a long time.

“Begging your pardon, milord.”

Gabriel glanced up to see a man standing at his table. He might have been the same age as Gabriel himself, but it was difficult saying if that was truly the case. His face was haggard, although there were faint indications he’d been a rather handsome man at some point in his life.

The dark air of desperation and imminent poverty stamped across the man’s features were evidence of a rough, hard-scrabble existence. He was Irish as well, which was yet another strike against a man choosing to live in England.

“Yes?”

“You’re the new Marquess of Rosenthorne?”

Gabriel glanced around the man for Tessa. Seven hells, but he needed another ale. “I am,” he said in reply to the man’s question. Tamping down his impatience, Gabriel turned his attention to the man who’d disrupted his reflection on the episode shared with Celia.

“Heard you were looking for workers at Rosenthorne Park. If ya are needing stable hands or carpentry, I’ve got years of experience. Good with horses and fixin’ anything that needs fixin’.” The man ducked his head, twisting his cap in his hands. “I’ve worked at some of the largest estates in England. Name’s Flannigan.”

Gabriel did not care where this man had worked, nor what his name was. He simply wanted another ale before retreating to his room where his wife, no doubt, was crying herself to sleep in a room lit by a single lamp.

“We are in recent need, that’s true. If what you say is true, then you may seek out my estate manager there,” Gabriel said, distracted by the sight of Tessa coming toward him with a fresh tankard of brew. “He will know of the positions available.”

The man smiled, sweeping his thinning reddish blonde hair back under a threadbare cap. “I’ll do that, milord. It’s said you and the marchioness are newlyweds. She’s a right beauty, she is, milord, if you don’t mind my saying so. You’re certainly a man what has the luck. A man rising above his common status is something most of us can only dream of.”