After all, the two of them were already under scrutiny based on the circumstances of their hasty marriage.

Pulling into the circular driveway, Celia gazed up at the imposing grey stone façade with awe. While many of the residences in Mayfair were fashionable townhouses like the one her parents owned, Rosenthorne Hall was a separate building nestled within a sprawling plot of land. A high, black iron fence enclosed its entirety, the grounds kept very much in the style of nearby Hyde Park. It was lushly beautiful, the feeling of privacy unusual within the confines of the crowded city where people jostled elbows. She’d never had the pleasure of visiting the home. The old marquess was notoriously reclusive, and there’d been no events held there for many years. In fact, Gabriel’s father had rarely been in residence, and the house sat in a suspended state as a result.

“How very grand it is, milady,” Katie, her maid, breathed from the other side of the coach. “It is like a fairytale castle.”

Upon entering the border of Mayfair, Gabriel trotted ahead of the coach so he could arrive at Rosenthorne Hall first. Now, as the vehicle rolled to a stop, Celia watched from the window as he dismounted from Arion’s back. He handed the reins over to a young stable boy with a warm smile and words she could not hear.

Celia’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. Her husband was so brutally handsome. Somehow, the cloak of power he’d inherited just a month ago had only intensified his appeal. The man exuded arrogant confidence, his demeanor both aloof and approachable. It was an odd juxtaposition, and Celia wondered if others would find the combination difficult to resist.

She, herself, could not, and the proof was evident in the shameless way she lusted for him.

He’d made love to her tenderly every night of the past week leading up to their departure for London. It was a sweet seduction of slow, gentle thrusts, the sweetest of loving words, and the most scandalous of instructions. She thought perhaps he was building her up, preparing her for something she might not agree to without this careful planning. What that might be, she did not know, but a tiny part of her was eager to experience more.

Even if it frightened her.

The coachman jumped down from his perch and snapped open the steps. When the coach door opened for her descent, Gabriel was already there and taking her hand in assistance, his lips lifted slightly in a self-conscious smirk.

“Welcome to Rosenthorne Hall, Marchioness.”

He helped her down, leading her away as a groomsman stepped closer to take one of the coach horses by the bit. Celia did not pay much heed, but upon looking back to ensure Katie had descended the coach safely, she caught a glimpse of the man holding the horses.

Celia’s heart stuttered with fear.

It cannot be. It simply cannot.

Bryan Flannigan winked, his cruel mouth lifting in a smirk in acknowledgment of her shock.