She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly and exhaled before opening them.
“I am sure in the case of the rape,” he said. “I went to call upon Penelope Ginsberg—Mrs. Clark now—and her father while I was away.”
“It was they who were your neighbors?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “It was Manley Rochford, while my cousin Philip Rochford looked on. They were both drunk, though what happened was not out of character for either of them. She was not their first victim. I am less sure about the murder, though I have no doubt that it was one of them.”
“He is coming to town soon?” she asked.
“Almost certainly within the next few weeks,” he said.
“And he will recognize you?”
“Again,” he said, “almost certainly. I cannot imagine I will have any difficulty recognizing him.”
“How long does it take to acquire a special license?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” he said, “never having needed one before now. I will find out and take care of it tomorrow.”
“There are going to be fireworks,” she said. She smiled fleetingly. “Here at Vauxhall, I mean.”
“We will go back to the box,” he told her. “It would be a pity to miss them.”
“Gabriel,” she said before they moved, “let us not say anything to anyone. I would like my mother to be the first to know, and then Anna and Avery.”
He rather suspected her relatives back at the box would take one look at her and find themselves making a very shrewd guess.
“My lips are sealed,” he said.
“Thank you.”
He set an arm about her waist again and drew her against his side as they made their way back along the path to the main avenue.
Fourteen
Jessica had been quite correct. Gabriel applied for permission to call the following morning—or for an audience, as she had put it last night—and the Duke of Netherby had returned a prompt, affirmative reply.
Being ushered into the ducal study a few hours later was an intimidating experience. Netherby, as he rose from the chair behind a large oak desk, was neither particularly tall nor broad. He was dressed with an elegance that bordered upon, but somehow did not cross the line into, dandyism. He wore several rings upon the well-manicured fingers of the hand he extended to shake Gabriel’s. Yet somehow he exuded power and the unspoken warning that one might be very sorry indeed if one attempted any sort of impertinence. Gabriel, who was adept at summing up men upon very little acquaintance, was at a loss with the duke.
“Thank you for granting me some of your time,” Gabriel said, clasping his hand and shaking it firmly.
“Not at all,” the duke murmured, indicating a chair for his guest before resuming his seat behind the desk.
A man’s time was precious. It ought not to be wasted upon small talk except on social occasions. This was not one.
“I have asked Lady Jessica Archer to marry me,” Gabriel began, though he was still not sure hehadasked. “She said yes. We plan to marry by special license within the week. She does not wish for a largetonwedding. Neither do I.”
If Netherby was shocked, or even surprised, he certainly gave no indication. “Congratulations are in order, then,” he said. “You may have a fight on your hands with her mother over the nature of the wedding. But that is no concern of mine. Was there anything else you wished to discuss with me?”
He was a cool customer, Gabriel thought, especially in light of what Norton had had to say in the report that had arrived from Brierley this morning.
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Is your secretary at work this morning?”
The ducal eyebrows rose, and for a moment Gabriel could see a faint resemblance between him and his half sister. Or perhaps it was just that they had both perfected that haughtiness of manner that froze pretension.
“Edwin Goddard?” the duke said. “I pay him to work during the mornings. I trust he is at it now and not playing truant.”
“Here at Archer House?” Gabriel asked.
