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No sooner had Vangie finished the thought than Ian entered the drawing room. Silent panther feet. She was fast becoming accustomed to them—to him.

“Vangie, I must be off at once.”

Her heart plummeted to her feet. He was leaving her here. Amongst strangers.

“Charlotte has eloped,” he said grimly. “She’s underage, and I must try to stop them. I know little of Trevor Monroe, other than he’s the nephew of our neighbors, the Landthrops.”

What a caring brother. “Of course you must go. I shall be fine.”

She would be. Jasper liked her. That was a good start.

“I may be gone for a fortnight or more.” Ian shoved one hand into a glove. “Gretna Green is several days’ ride from here, and they may not travel directly there.”

Two or more weeks? Dismay wrenched her, though she hid it from him. She knew no one in this vicinity—in this house—for that matter. She’d yet to meet all the servants, and her new mother-in-law had made her antagonistic feelings regarding Vangie abundantly clear.

Nevertheless, she attempted a brave smile. “It will provide me an opportunity to become acquainted with the staff and to learn how to manage an estate of this magnitude.”

“I wanted to introduce you to Somersfield myself, but Charlotte is impetuous and not altogether logical. Even when at her best.” Ian paused in pulling on his second glove. “I’d never forgive myself if she marries Monroe on a whim, making a mistake she’ll live to regret for the rest of her life.” Brusqueness tempered each clipped word.

Awkward silence greeted his vehement declaration. How did one respond to that? Marriage… A mistake one lived to regret for the rest of one’s life? Was he speaking of his sister or himself?

“Ian, I thought you’d left already. Do you care nothing for your sister?” The Dowager Viscountess Warrick’s grating voice disturbed her musings. She glared at Vangie, making no attempt to hide her dislike. “Dear Charlotte’s the only family you have left.”

“I’m just going.” He stepped nearer to Vangie.

The obstinate woman refused to leave, allowing her a moment’s privacy with her husband. The dowager stood impatiently tapping her toe, her vexation tangible.

Ian cast a shuttered glance in his stepmother’s direction. His baritone voice hushed, he said, “If you have need of anything, you’ve only to ask Jasper or Tanny—Mrs. Tanssen.”

“Yes, I shall.” Vangie roved her gaze over his face, memorizing each angle and plane. She wanted to trace the almost healed scratch on his jaw, but he’d donned the cold, unemotional façade once more. Perhaps worry about his sister had brought about the change. She daren’t contemplate on what else may have caused his sudden coolness. “You’ll be careful?”

The encounter with the bandits last night continued to plague her.

“Always.”

Searching his eyes, Vangie whispered a Romani blessing. “Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa. Go with God and in good health.”

Ian half bowed. “Thank you.” He strode toward the door and stopped before his stepmother standing in the door frame. “See that my viscountess is treated as she deserves. And please, do make the arrangements we discussed at once.”

An unspoken message passed between them before the dowager turned her hooded gaze to Vangie.

What arrangements, and why was his stepmother looking at her like that? Like a cat that had a canary? The dowager’s wintery eyes sent the hairs rising along Vangie’s skin. She wrapped her arms protectively about herself and shivered. Faith andgood Lord. That woman’s eyes could freeze hell’s scorching flames with one glance.

The dowager answered smoothly, “Of course, Ian.” She drifted into the room, trailing a finger across a table. Her compliant gaze met his once more. “Rest assured, your wife will be treated with the respect and consideration a woman of her station deserves.”

Jasper entered. “Pericles is saddled and waiting, sir.”

“Thank you, Jasper.” Ian gave Vangie one last, lingering look then passed through the doorway. He met Mrs. Tanssen just outside. Pausing, he spoke to her quietly.

She darted a fierce glower at the dowager before answering him.

Vangie couldn’t hear the exchange, nor could his stepmother if her annoyed scowl was any indication. When she again glanced in his direction, he was gone. The ache his leaving caused took her by surprise. She’d known him barely a week. How could she be so affected by him or his absence?

With a sigh, Mrs. Tanssen’s prickly mask descended once more. All brisk business, she marched into the drawing room. “Lady Warrick—”

Vangie and Lucinda both turned to her.

Oh, dear. This was discomfiting. The dowager wasn’t ready to relinquish the position of Viscountess Warrick.