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“Your what?” The dowager sucked in a sharp breath, her hand flying to cover her heart. She impaled Vangie with a hostile glare. “Surely you’re not serious,” she exclaimed, enunciating each word with haughty anger.

This wasn’t going well. Had Ian’s stepmother hoped he’d marry someone else? The thought didn’t settle well with Vangie, and a sickening knot twisted in her belly. She hadn’t considered the possibility. Were Ian’s affections engaged elsewhere?

A sly look crept across the dowager’s plain features. “Ah, is this part of the plan?” She laughed then, a markedly humorless snicker.

Plan? Vangie searched Ian’s face. He didn’t reply but glared at his stepmother, his face a mask of cold fury. Was there a challenge in his eyes?

She eyed her ladyship.

A conglomeration of emotions skittered across the dowager’s face before settling into a pinched scowl. “There’s no time for this now. We can discuss your travesty of a marriage later.”

Sensing an undercurrent that didn’t bode well, Vangie swung her gaze between Ian and his stepmother. Obviously, she emphatically objected to the marriage. Very much wishing she could disappear, she cast a quick glance at Jasper.

He nodded, one sharp movement then winked.

Despite the tense atmosphere, her lips twitched. Yes, she most certainly did like Jasper.

Dismissing her, the dowager faced Ian. “I must speak with you now. Alone.” She cut a rude glower toward Vangie. Thrusting the scrunched paper beneath his nose, she cried, “Charlotte’s run off to Gretna Green with that penniless squire, Trevor Monroe!”

“Monroe?” Ian scrunched his brow. “But I thought she was in love with Lord Pickering?”

“As did I.” Lucinda shoved the paper at him. “Until I found this.”

He took the note and quickly scanned it, his jaw muscle twitching. “Jasper, please escort her ladyship,” Ian’s focus flicked to his stepmother for an instant, “to the drawing room. Then send for the leech. Lucinda, wait for me in the study.”

She speared Vangie with another animosity-laden glare. “But, Ian—”

“In the study, Lucinda. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Huffing her outrage, the petulant woman scowled. Spinning on her heels, her spine ramrod straight, she marched from the foyer. The crape of her stiff skirts crackled with each resolute stride.

Wrapping her arms around her torso, Vangie watched her go. She shivered and rubbed her arms as she stared at the doorway for several seconds after the dowager disappeared through it. Had she traded one hostile home for another?

Ian addressed the butler one more. “Please, fetch Tanny to my wife. She’ll need to prepare a temporary chamber for Lady Warrick until the Dowager Viscountess Warrick removes herself to the dower house.” He leveled a contemplative glance to the study door. “Jasper, I’d be most grateful if you’d oversee Lucinda’s packing. I’d like her to take up residence there tomorrow. See that she doesn’t help herself to the silver, will you?”

Vangie breathed easier. Thank goodness. She’d not have to reside under the same roof with Lucifer—Lucinda. Would she really take the silver?

“At once, your lordship,” Jasper offered enthusiastically.

Taking her hand in his, Ian gazed into her eyes. “Sweeting, wait for me in the drawing room. I’ll explain everything after I’ve spoken with her.” Before she could respond, he swiveled and strode to the doorway the dowager had entered.

“The drawing room is along this corridor, Lady Warrick.” Arm extended, Jasper looked at her expectantly. “If you will please follow me, Lady Warrick.”

Vangie started. He meant her. She trailed behind the butler, feeling terribly alone and unsure of herself. This wasn’t the reception she’d expected, though truth to tell, she’d not known precisely what to expect.

“Ah, here we are, Lady Warrick.” Opening the double doors, Jasper stood at their entrance waiting for her to enter. “Lady Warrick, would you care for some refreshment?”

Each time he called her Lady Warrick, she had to mentally remind herself, he spoke to her. “Yes, thank you. Tea would be wonderful, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Dipping his head, he replied, “No trouble at all, Lady Warrick. Please make yourself comfortable, Lady Warrick. I’ll return momentarily, Lady Warrick.”

The man seemed delighted to address her by her formal title. How long would it be before she grew accustomed to the title herself?

She wandered over to the fireplace dominating one wall. A woman’s portrait hung above the gleaming white marble. Peering at her, Vangie recognized the silver eyes and high cheek bones. The artist had captured a lingering unhappiness in the woman’s expression, and though her hair was lighter than Ian’s, the painting was unmistakably a likeness of his mother.

“I’ll try to make him happy,” she whispered. “If he’ll let me.”

With a sigh, she turned away and surveyed the rest of the room. Intricate scrollwork detailed the plaster border along the ceiling’s edge, whilst a filmy yellow shade of paint covered the walls. Floor to ceiling leaded glass windows graced the opposite side of the chamber, their sun-faded silk draperies wide open.