She stared at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel shrugged while adjusting the lightweight cloak Celia wore over a gown of deep sapphire blue. His fingers lingered on the curve of her collarbone, the expanse of skin exposed by the gown’s scooped bodice. “It is our first true appearance in society as husband and wife. It’s only natural that you might be concerned over my reception as marquess. However, I shall be on my best behavior so you have no cause for worry.”

Celia’s features softened. “I am not worried. You shall know precisely what to say and do. You always do.”

Taking her gloved hand in his, Gabriel wished he could strip it away and press his lips to the warmth of her creamy skin. How he loved touching her. Inhaling her delicate scent. Hearing her musical laughter. “But never on so grand a stage, sugarplum. I am nervous, if you must know the truth. And I am not invincible to the distress it will cause me if I should prove to be an embarrassment to you.”

Her mouth tightened. “You must not think that, Gabriel. Do not allow the ton to keep you from being who you are.”

“Having you beside me is all that is keeping me sane right now, Celia.” He handed her up into the coach, then settled on the seat beside her. “And I will never be as proud as the moment I enter the room with you on my arm.”

Celia turned toward him, brushing away the lock of dark hair that was forever falling across his scarred brow. “I am the one honored, Gabriel. Never doubt that for an instant. You were born for this world, and it’s time you claim your place in it.”

The small, intimate party at Lord Buckholt’s had swelled from twenty attendees to nearly double in size. Margaret, however, apparently anticipated this possibility. Her manner remained calm and steady, despite having just pulled off the upset of the Season.

Already on a friendly basis since the beginning of the Season two years prior, Celia embraced the petite blonde woman. Gabriel was encouraged by the lady’s enthusiastic greeting and warm smile of welcome when Ethan introduced them.

Gabriel followed Celia’s lead, taking the well-wishes and numerous invites all in stride, never revealing his inner conflict.

He was an imposter among these glittering, polite faces. He had killed before. Ruined those who’d deserved it. Gambled alongside the very worst reprobates and visited too many brothels to count. He’d seen a few of these gentlemen in some of those disreputable places. The men he recognized, all highly respected lords, ducked their heads at Gabriel’s scrutiny. A few smiled sheepishly while clapping him on the back and welcoming him into the inner circle of society.

These people accepted and celebrated him. Apparently, they did not care Gabriel’s father had abandoned him to be raised as a bastard. Did not care his mother was an opera house performer whose husband banished her after the wedding, ashamed of her lack of social status.