The silver eyes briefly darkened as he gazed down at her, but his expression remained aloof.
“You are welcome to explore the house and gardens, but you will not leave the grounds.”
“Am I to be a prisoner here?”
“Only until tomorrow.” A humorless smile curved his lips. “Do not bother to unpack, my dear. You leave for Devonshire at first light.”
Without bothering to wait for her reaction, Gabriel brushed past her and disappeared down a long corridor.
An unexpected stab of misery managed to pierce the protective fog.
She felt…lost in the vast, imposing house. As if she was an imposter who was bound to be humiliated when she was at last exposed.
Which was, no doubt, exactly what her husband desired.
She was thankfully distracted as the housekeeper waved a plump hand toward the nearby stairs.
“This way, my lady.”
My lady. Talia hid a sudden grimace.
She wished to heavens she was back in her father’s library, forgotten among the dusty books.
Instead she forced a sad smile and headed for the stairs. “Thank you, Mrs. Manning.”
She allowed herself to be escorted to a charming suite that was decorated with rich blue satin wallcovers that matched the curtains and upholstery on the rosewood furniture. Along one wall a series of windows overlooked the formal gardens and the distant mews, while through the doorway she could catch sight of an equally luxurious bedroom.
“It is not the largest apartment,” Mrs. Manning said kindly, “but I thought you might prefer a view of the garden.”
“It is lovely,” Talia murmured, her breath catching at the sight of the exquisite bouquets of roses that were set on the carved marble chimneypiece. Turning, she laid a hand on her companion’s arm, well aware that her husband was not responsible for the considerate gesture. “I adore fresh flowers. Thank you.”
The housekeeper cleared her throat, as if embarrassed by Talia’s display of gratitude.
“It seemed appropriate for your wedding day.”
Talia strolled toward the lovely view of the gardens, not surprised by the marble grotto that was larger than her aunt’s cottage in Yorkshire.
“I am certain you are aware that I am not a typical bride. The earl has hardly made an effort to disguise the fact I am an unwanted intruder.”
“It is no fault of your own, my lady,” the servant surprisingly claimed. Was it possible Mrs. Manning felt a measure of sympathy for the earl’s discarded bride? “His lordship is merely disappointed in Master Harry and his behavior toward you.”
Talia was not so easily fooled, but she appreciated the woman’s kind attempt.
“I was under the impression that Lord Ashcombe was equally averse to having me as a sister-in-law. I would have assumed that he was pleased to have me jilted.” She grimaced. “At least until my father coerced him into honoring Mr. Richardson’s promise.”
“As to that, I suppose you shall soon enough discover that his lordship and Master Harry have a…” The housekeeper paused, searching for the appropriate word. “Thorny relationship.”
Despite her earlier promise to treat her husband with the same disdainful lack of interest as he had displayed toward her, Talia couldn’t prevent her curiosity.
“I did suspect as much.” She turned, watching as the servant fussed with the silver teapot set on a pier table. “It would not be easy to be a younger son.”
“A good sight too easy, if you ask me,” the woman muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
For a moment the woman hesitated. Was she debating the wisdom of sharing family gossip? Then, obviously deciding that Talia was destined to discover the Ashcombe secrets, she straightened and squarely met Talia’s curious gaze.
“The previous earl died near ten years ago, leaving his lordship to assume the title, as well as to take responsibility for his grieving mother and younger broth