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silver candelabrum and the arrogant features that were so perfectly carved they did not seem quite real. His lean body was attired in a black jacket that clung with loving care to his broad shoulders and black breeches that seemed more appropriate for a funeral than a wedding. And his silver eyes—
    They held the ruthless power of a predator.
    He had never appeared more godlike, and despite her layers of protection she shivered in fear.
    Gabriel made no move to touch her as she halted at his side. In fact, he did not glance in her direction during the brief ceremony. Not even at its close when they signed the marriage certificate and shared a glass of sherry with the visibly curious rector and the rigidly composed butler, as well as a woman who Talia assumed must be the housekeeper.
    Then, with an imperious nod of his head, Ashcombe gestured her to leave the chapel, following behind her with obvious impatience.
    Distantly Talia was aware that her entire life had just been irrevocably altered. She was no longer Dowdy Dobson, the painfully shy daughter of a mere merchant. She was the Countess of Ashcombe.
    Not that her elevated status offered her any comfort, she ruefully accepted.
    How many years had she longed to be rid of her father’s oppressive rule? Even after it had become obvious that she was never going to attract a bevy of eager suitors, she had continued to dream that a kind, decent gentleman would appear to whisk her away. A man who would treat her with dignity and respect.
    But now her hopes were forever crushed.
    She had just traded one tyrant for another.
    As if to ensure she understood her submissive role as his bride, Gabriel cast a dismissive gaze over her demure attire. Her rose gown was threaded with silk ribbons around the high waist, and a single strand of pearls circled her neck.
    “Mrs. Manning will show you to your chambers,” he informed her icily, a gesture of his hand bringing forward the plump woman with gray hair tidily knotted at the back of her head. Her black gown was as spotless as the townhouse, and her movements brisk. The housekeeper, just as Talia had suspected. “Let her know if you prefer a dinner tray in your private salon or if you desire to eat in the dining room.”
    “You will not be joining me?” The question tumbled from her lips before she could check them.
    “I have business I must attend to.”
    Acutely aware of the housekeeper’s presence, Talia felt her face flame with color. Was it necessary to shame her by abandoning her before the ink had dried upon their license?
    “What of your mother?”
    “Her ladyship is visiting her sister in Kent.”
    Safely tucked away from her ill-bred daughter-in-law. “I…see.”
    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