The little girl went tearing after him.
The older boy laughed and scratched his head. “I do beg your pardon, sir,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet. “They are like a pair of wild animals today. It comes of having been cooped up in the house all day yesterday because of the rain.”
Gabriel knew all about the rain. He had driven his curricle through it.
“I am an old acquaintance of your mother’s,” he explained. And yes, he thought, the boy must be about twelve years old. “I am staying not far from here for a day or two and came to pay my respects. Ask her if she has time to see Gabriel Rochford, if you will.”
“Yes, Mr. Rochford.” The boy turned to lead the way toward the house.
Before they reached it, however, a woman appeared in the doorway. She was a bit on the plump side, noticeably older than when Gabriel had seen her last—she had been seventeen then. But she was still fair haired and pretty. The little girl was clinging to her skirt and peeping about it at Gabriel. The little boy came bouncing outside again, jumping two-footed down the steps.
“Penny,” Gabriel said, removing his hat.
She stared blankly at him for a few moments, and then one hand crept to her throat. “Gabriel?” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “Oh dear God, it is. I heard you were dead.”
“Who is he, Mama?” the little boy asked, jumping on the spot.
She looked down at the child and blinked, almost as though she had forgotten who he was. “You will mind your manners, Wilbur,” she said. “Make your bow to Mr. Rochford and go up to the schoolroom. Amelia, you go too. Kendall, take them up, if you please, and stay with them there until you are called.”
“Aw, Mama,” the little boy complained. “Can’t we just play outside?”
“You will do as you are told,” she said firmly.
“Come on, nippers,” the older boy said. “I bet I can beat you both at spillikins.”
“Cannot,” they both chorused together, and the little girl reached for his hand.
As the children made their way toward the staircase that was visible over their mother’s shoulder, an older man approached the door. He stopped abruptly when he saw Gabriel, and his gaze narrowed and then hardened upon him.
“Mr. Ginsberg.” Gabriel nodded to him.
“We heard you were dead,” he said. And then, with flared nostrils and barely leashed fury, “Would that you were.”
“Papa, please,” Penelope said. “Wait until the children are upstairs.”
None of them moved until a door closed and they could no longer hear the children’s voices. A flush moved up Penelope’s neck and into her face. Her father’s nostrils remained flared.
“Come into the sitting room, Gabriel,” she said. “And I named you wrongly to the children, did I not? You are the Earl of Lyndale.”
“I will not have that man in my house,” her father said. “I will send for a constable if he does not leave my property immediately. He belongs in a jail cell while a gallows is prepared.”
“Please, Papa,” she said, closing her eyes briefly. “Let us talk about this in private.”
“I did not kill your son, sir,” Gabriel said. “He was my friend.”
Ginsberg, white haired and straight backed, old for his years, glared at him for a long, silent moment and then turned to stalk away in the direction of a room that turned out to be the sitting room. Gabriel followed Penelope inside it and shut the door. Her father went to stand by the window, looking out, his hands clasped behind him.
“Gabriel,” Penelope said again, “we heard you had died.”
“I did not,” he told her. Neither of them sat down. “You too probably wish I had.”
Ginsberg growled but did not say anything. Penelope raised her hand to her throat again.
“I went away,” Gabriel said. “I had been thinking about leaving for some time, but I was spurred on by what happened. I was a frightened boy, and it seemed to me that there was real cause for fear. You might perhaps have cleared up one misperception if I had stayed, Penny. I believe you did not do it, though, after I was gone.”
She clutched her throat and closed her eyes again. Ginsberg turned sharply from the window, his face a mask of fury.
“You are not going to try denying—” he began, but his daughter cut him off.
