“If you love it, then I shall, too.” Gabriel lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her gloved knuckles. He ignored the giggling of the downstairs maids watching them. Miss Ellenston, the housekeeper, shooed them to return to their duties.

“Do whatever pleases you, pet,” he breathed, finally releasing her with a silky promise. “I know I shall reap the rewards of my tolerance one way or another.”

CHAPTER 31

Their first dinner as husband and wife in Celia’s new home was a daunting one.

The dining hall was cavernous and dark, decorated in shades of Rosenthorne’s heraldic colors of deep burgundy and gold. Heavy drapes covered the windows, a remnant of the old marquess’s command that they stayed undrawn as a way of protecting the equally dark wood furniture.

The six ornate crystal chandeliers running down the center of the room and positioned strategically over the dining table were in terrible need of dusting. Celia overheard Mrs. Ellenston explain to Gabriel that the room was next on her list. With the hiring of new, eager-to-please servants, it would receive a thorough cleaning over the next few days.

For a formal meal, Celia should have taken her chair at the opposite end of the table, and if there’d been guests dining with them, she would have. But it seemed quite silly to sit so far from Gabriel when they were the only two in attendance excluding the footmen positioned on either side of the room’s double doors.

Gabriel’s eyebrow lifted when Celia slid into the chair on his left.

“Breaking the rules already, Lady Rosenthorne?” A teasing note flitted through the question, and Celia gave him a saucy grin.

“You’ll soon discover it is my natural inclination, Lord Rosenthorne.”

“You forget, sugarplum, that I know more about you than you realize.”

Celia ducked her head as she opened the linen napkin and laid it in precise folds across her lap. He may have just become a marquess, but he occupied the seat at the head of the enormous table as though he’d been there his whole life. A steady, unwavering confidence exuded from the man, a confidence only those born to nobility could emit.

“So you have said before. It places me at a distinct disadvantage since I know practically nothing about you, Gabriel Rose.”

“We began this game in the coach on our way here.” Celia’s use of his previous name resulted in a fleeting smile across Gabriel’s features. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on the table and steepled his fingertips. His gaze caressed her mouth, a fiery hunger in the whiskey dark depths he did not bother to hide. “What is it that you wish to know, sugarplum? I hold no secrets when it comes to you.”

It was a subtle reminder that Celia could not make the same claim. She held her breath, hoping he would not once again insist on the name of the man who had abused her in the past. But he simply watched her, patiently waiting for her question.