Viscount of Vanity, Tammy Andresen [top reads txt] 📗

his feet swung out from the bed. “I think it best if I do sleep in the living room.”

“In a chair?” she asked, reaching for him. “You’ll be dreadfully uncomfortable.”

“No more so than I am here.”

She winced, realizing she was irritating him. She pulled her knees up and hugged them as butterflies danced in her belly. Irritated men acted irrationally. “I’m so very sorry. I’ll stop talking.”

He looked back at her, his brow drawing together in concern. “Gabriella,” his voice was far softer. He reached for her hand, taking it in his much larger one. “You don’t need to stop talking. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s that these are difficult topics for me to discuss and we don’t know each other all that well.”

She relaxed at his gentle tone. She supposed her father’s increasing anger over the past few years had left her on edge. She never knew when he might explode in a fiery fit of temper. “I understand,” she answered. “But please stay. It will be terribly uncomfortable in the other room.”

He gave a stiff nod and then lay back down. She did as well, and resumed her spot with her back to him, balanced on the very edge. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The carriage rumbled into the village the next morning as Austin attempted not to stare at his new wife.

Gabriella was once again drowning in his very large coat. Any gentleman would keep a lady warm. How could her father have left her without one?

He frowned again. One of his first jobs as her husband was to make certain her father never came anywhere near her again.

Well, that wasn’t true. His very first job was outfitting her properly.

She looked out the window of the carriage, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve known this place my entire life and yet it looks completely different this morning.”

He smiled at that. “I hope it’s a good change.”

She looked back at him with a beautifully warm smile. The kind that stole his breath. “I think so.”

The carriage rumbled up to their first stop. Austin climbed out, then helped his wife down. He leaned over. “I’m not sure I want your father to hear of my title just yet.” He could only imagine what a man like that would do with such information. “I’ll refer to you as Mrs. Melrose today, if you don’t mind.”

He saw the shadow cross her face as she nodded. Was she worried he was lying? He wouldn’t blame her. Their relationship had not begun on the best foundation. A problem he was attempting to repair now.

Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he led her into the shop.

He was a man with an eye for detail, and he used it now.

With the help of the modiste, they picked out a myriad of fabrics; they were deep, rich hues that would complement her coloring.

Gabriella barely expressed an opinion or said anything at all. Something else they’d need to work on.

He had several more shops he’d need to visit. His wife would need bonnets, ribbons, stockings, shoes, and of course, a trunk to carry it all back to Everfield, his country estate when he wasn’t in London.

With that in mind, he left Gabriella to continue the fitting. But as he walked down the street, he noticed several men giving him a hard stare.

He didn’t recognize any of them, but they surely did him. And they didn’t like what they saw.

Ignoring them, he stepped into the cobblers. He carried Gabriella’s very worn kid boots. He needed these repaired and she’d need a new pair as well.

One of the people in the group called out to him. “There’s the horse’s ass who cheated us.”

He grimaced as he kept going. They were men from yesterday’s auction. He should have realized some of them might still be here. One stood out, in particular. He had a jagged scar that cut across his cheek.

They eyed him as he passed. The one with the scar hitting his open palm with his other fist. Apparently, some of the men were still angry that he’d stolen the chance for them to bid.

He scraped his fingers over his cheek. He’d not engage them if he could help it. Not that he was a man who shied away from a fight, but he didn’t go looking for them either.

He doubted they were a real threat, but it did pose an important issue. While Gabriella had a license and a marriage certificate, without intimacy she had no physical proof of their union. Damn.

He needed to introduce Gabriella to Chad. If something happened to him, his friend could substantiate Gabriella’s claim she was the viscountess. And he’d need to see a barrister. While much of his property was entailed, the townhouse in London was not part of the estate and he had plenty of funds that were his own.

Gabriella would be cared for even if he were gone.

And she’d never fall victim to her loathsome father again.

He entered the cobblers to have her boot repaired and a new pair commissioned. When he came out a quarter hour later, the men were gone.

Rather than complete any of his other errands he started back for the modiste’s shop, wishing to check on his wife. Something about those men had gotten under his skin.

He’d only been married a day and he was already protective. Hell, that feeling had been what had driven him to marry her in the first place. He sensed her desperation from the first.

And his instincts were screaming at him to see how Gabriella fared.

Chapter Six

Gabriella stood on the platform in the dressmaker’s shop admiring a bolt of fabric against her skin.

She’d known Madame Fleur since she was a small girl and, when her mother had been alive and they’d had a modest budget for clothing, she’d come here to be fitted.

Madam Fleur now had streaks of grey in her simple yet stylish coif, but the woman had a knack