None of that mattered. Because what mattered now were the possibilities of everything Gabriel was capable of as a powerful marquess. The favors he could grant. The hopes he could crush. The lives he could change. And the dreams he could make come true.

As the evening wore on, Gabriel slowly learned a valuable lesson about his newfound influence and its impact on those around him. The ton, this new world into which he’d been thrust, was no different and no better than the murky underground he’d survived for years.

And he realized with sudden clarity, his experiences before becoming the Marquess of Rosenthorne would serve him well.

“With the Season beginning soon, you will find it difficult getting away from London for longer than a few days, but will you take a honeymoon, Lady Rosenthorne?” Margaret asked during dinner.

“Please, I’m still ‘Celia’ when amongst friends, regardless of the new title.” Celia smiled at Margaret, her eyes straying to where her husband sat at the other end of the table. “And I am unsure of Lord Rosenthorne’s thoughts on the subject. It’s been a whirlwind since we’ve married.”

Lady Amelia Palmerton arched an eyebrow. “Such a hasty engagement and la, the wedding details are simply fantastical.” The woman’s tone was almost snide, concealed by the genial smile she wore pasted on her features. “Is it true, my dear, that the marquess had Lord Harvey taken into custody by the local constable? It’s being said the poor man spent a miserable night in a cell with the village drunk before Lord Ravenswood directed that he be released.”

Celia slanted a glance in Gabriel’s direction, obviously unsure how she should respond.

With a heavy sigh, Gabriel nodded in agreement that he would take on the old dragon. He cleared his throat, drawing Lady Palmerton’s attention.

“It was absolutely necessary. The man could not be trusted around the marchioness, having attempted an abduction just prior to his detainment. He was released two days later, at my direction, and suffered no harm that I am aware of.”

Lady Palmerton held a hand to her bosom in exaggerated shock. “But still, my dear Marquess. One does not go about such matters in such a barbaric way! There are certainly more genteel ways of handling things. You simply must learn that life as a peer of the realm is very different from the rough and tumble one you led before your father’s death resulted in your new title.” The lady’s censorship was quite obvious, as was her general dislike for Gabriel.

He regarded her with a steely, imperious stare. “Should I have done the honorable thing and challenged him to a duel? I chose the most rational of options available. I’m sure Lord Harvey appreciates my restraint. The man lives because of my discretion. Hopefully, he will think twice before attempting such foolishness again.”

Lady Palmerton’s lips thinned. “Well, I believe it was simply savage behavior.”

Seated beside Celia, Lord Palmerton frowned at his wife’s insistence on continuing with the subject. Everyone else at the table had quickly fallen silent, curious to see how the new marquess navigated the disapproval by one of society’s dragons of propriety.