“No,” Gabriel said, “those stories were not true. Neither was Anthony Rochford’s supposed familiarity with me. He was about ten years old when I went to America. He had never been to Brierley, where I lived for ten years after the death of my father. Let me be as brief as I can. This is a wedding breakfast, my own and Jessica’s, and I would not wish to shift the focus too far from celebration.”
He told the story with which some people at the table were already familiar.
“I wished to marry before returning to Brierley Hall to take up my position and the responsibilities there that I have neglected for almost seven years,” he said at last. “I wanted the moral support of a countess and the practical support of someone who had had the upbringing and training to run a home that has been without a mistress for a number of years, and to cope with a situation that is sure to be a challenge for a while. And I wanted a wife for whom I felt an affection. I hope I will be a worthy member of this family.”
“I have just realized,” Cousin Althea said, “that Jessica is the Countess of Lyndale.”
After the tense minutes that had preceded her words, everyone laughed.
“I expected and hoped to deal with Manley Rochford at Brierley,” Gabriel said. “It might have been less dramatic. And perhaps less . . . humiliating for his son. However, he has come here with his wife, and I must decide how best to break the news to him that I am alive and back in England.”
“Tell me,” Colin, Lord Hodges, said, “was Manley Rochford involved in any of those things of which you stood accused, Thorne?”
Gabriel had minimized details of the whole nasty episode that had sent him running off to America.
“Yes,” he said now after a brief hesitation.
“I suppose he was the guilty party,” Colin said. “Of one or both charges?”
“Definitely one,” Gabriel said, “probably both. Almost certainly he was implicated, at least as an accessory to the second.”
Uncle Thomas whistled. “Is there any proof?” he asked.
“On the first, yes,” Gabriel said. “I have spoken to the woman who was involved. She has given me a letter that may suffice as evidence. She will testify in person if further confirmation is needed, I believe, though understandably she is reluctant to do so. I would protect her from that if I can.”
“Shewilldo it,” Riverdale said. “Her husband has persuaded her that she must if it becomes necessary.”
Gabriel leveled a look on him.
“And there are two witnesses who will give Lyndale a solid alibi for the time when the murder was committed,” Netherby said.
“Two?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows.
“Miss Beck, of course. But you have perhaps forgotten,” Netherby said, “that the groom who took the wounded young fawn to her remained there for most of the time she and you were setting its broken leg. He is still employed at Brierley.”
“Ah,” Gabriel said, trying to remember. But yes, he seemed to recall that the young groom had been too squeamish to watch but too concerned to go away. He had hovered outside the cottage until the deed was done. “My man fell a bit short on that one, Netherby. Yours apparently did not. But yes. That is quite right. I had forgotten.”
“What we need now,” Aunt Matilda said, “is a plan. Our house, tomorrow afternoon. You will not mind, Charles?”
“Not at all, my love,” he said with great good humor, “provided you do not require my presence. In my experience plans are better left with the ladies.”
“Wise man,” Elizabeth said, twinkling at him. “I will be there, Cousin Matilda. So will Mama.”
“I will indeed,” Cousin Althea said.
“Another toast,” Riverdale said, getting to his feet and raising his glass. “To the Earl and Countess of Lyndale’s remaining in London for a while longer.”
There was a prolonged clinking of glasses and a chorus of voices.
“Jessica,” Gabriel said soon after that, “shall we be the first to leave? With many thanks to everyone who has made this such an unexpectedly festive day, considering the fact that we had decided upon a quiet wedding.”
She set her hand in his and got to her feet. “Yes, thank you all,” she said. “And now, if you will excuse me, I am about to get a little emotional.”
Gabriel tightened his grip on her hand and led her from the room while Netherby, with the mere lifting of one eyebrow and one finger, sent a servant scurrying to call up their carriage—minus all the flowers and all the hardware, Gabriel hoped, for the short journey to his hotel.
Jessica was a bit teary eyed, as she had warned. But he did not believe they were unhappy tears. He hoped not. All their wedding guests streamed out of the dining room after them to wave them on their way. It did not help her composure.
It had been an eventful wedding day. And it was not over yet.
