Gabriel’s smile was cruel patience. “I must disagree with you, Lady Palmerton. Savagery would have involved beating the man to a bloody pulp, which I fervently wished to do. I will not abide any man laying a hand on my property nor harming the people I care for.”

“It is good that many gentlemen do not share your propensity for violence, Lord Rosenthorne,” Lady Palmerton primly replied.

Gabriel took a sip from his wine glass and found Celia staring at him, an expression blended of both horror and pride stamped over her pale features. She’d not known it was he who ordered Lord Harvey released the day following their marriage.

With his gaze caressing and fiercely possessive, Gabriel raised his glass to her. It was an apologetic salute in light of his following words.

“And I find it appalling more men are unwilling, or perhaps unable, to protect what is theirs. Marquess or no, I will do whatever I deem necessary when it comes to my wife’s safety. And the next man to test my resolve may not find himself so fortunate to escape with his life.”

“I am the luckiest of women to have such a husband as Lord Rosenthorne,” Celia said quietly. “And he is more the man because of the old marquess’s absence in his life.”

There was a moment of stunned silence among those gathered, then Lord Buckholt slapped the table with the palm of his hand.

“Hear, hear!” Ethan exclaimed, raising his own glass in agreement. “To the protection of our loved ones, regardless of the methods.”

As everyone else raised their glasses, with the exception of Lady Palmerton, Gabriel met Celia’s gaze across the vast expanse of table separating them and felt his chest swell with a curious emotion. It was near to bursting as awareness flooded his body until he almost couldn’t breathe.

The protection of our loved ones…

Loved ones. Celia was his loved one.

His.

She was not just his wife. Not just a possession. She was not just his marchioness. Nor was she only an anchor in this new world. No. She was so much more. She was his beloved. His moon and stars and the sun around which he rotated like a moth encircling a flame.

Celia was his everything. And he would die or kill while protecting what was his. If that made him a beast in the eyes of London’s society, then that’s precisely what he would be.

CHAPTER 36

It was closing in on midnight when they finally arrived at Rosenthorne Hall.

Gabriel helped Celia descend from the coach and then stepped aside so she could continue on without him.

“I shall join you in a moment, my sweet. There is a matter of new upholstery for the coach I must mention to the coachmen. In my opinion, it is rather threadbare.” He smiled down at her, placing a finger beneath her chin and lifting it. “And I’ll not have my beautiful marchioness riding about Mayfair or the thoroughfares of London in a threadbare, somewhat shabby coach.”