To his surprise, Mister Kinsey was not rattled by the request. “Of course, my lord. We most certainly shall begin at once. Indeed, I suspected this would be a requirement upon your assuming the title. Therefore, I’ve taken the liberty of securing the necessary workers required for the task. I need only your direction and preferences when it comes to materials and general aesthetics of the space.”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, impressed by the man’s initiative. “I believe we shall do well together, Mister Kinsey.”

“I hope to meet your expectations, my lord. And that of the marchioness.”

That was something the estate steward and new marquess had in common. Gabriel wanted nothing more than to exceed Celia’s expectations and desires. He would begin by giving her full rein to redecorate the manor in any manner she pleased.

It was another four days before Gabriel’s carriage pulled into Beaumont’s circular drive.

He was tired. Hungry. Travel weary. But as he trudged up the mansion’s steps and entered the grand double doors, only one thing mattered. The need to see Celia. To touch her silky skin and inhale her soft, delicate rose scent. He’d been dreaming of her for days, which had not improved his mood in the least. Was there ever a time he’d been so fixated on a woman? And could he help the fact his obsession now bordered on the obscene? Drawing his gloves and hat off, he tossed them to Alfred, Beaumont’s butler.

“Welcome back, my lord,” Alfred bowed. “Anna has your rooms prepared and at the ready.”

“Thank you.”

Gabriel had entered the foyer, expecting Celia would greet him there. She would rush into his arms. Plant a kiss upon his lips with that breathy, little sigh he was coming to crave. Instead, Sara Bentley peeked out of one of the many doorways surrounding the central foyer and then hurried forth.

“The marquess returns,” Sara exclaimed. “How wonderful to see you, Rosenthorne!”

He was still adjusting to the title and found it irksome that the surname his mother had given him should be shunted aside. It was even more bothersome that he was now expected to answer to the name of a man he despised.

“You may still call me ‘Rose’, Lady Bentley. In fact, I rather prefer it.”

Sara’s head tilted at the faint bitterness of his tone. “Of course. It is fortunate the names are so similar. Much easier to remember.”

“Yes, it is.” After a brief pause, Gabriel pointedly asked, “Where is Celia?” He did not care or even know if it were proper to inquire of one’s future wife with such overriding impatience.

Obviously, it was not acceptable because Sara let out an exasperated sound and frowned discouragingly. “She’s gone riding with Lord Banbury and a few others. The Earl and Countess are among them. Lord Bentley and I stayed behind as I was feeling unwell earlier but that has passed.”