Netherby’s well-manicured, beringed hand covered hers briefly on the table, Gabriel noticed.
“Mrs. Clark’s letter—in her own handwriting, I assume, Lyndale?” the Marquess of Dorchester began, and paused, eyebrows raised.
Gabriel nodded.
“And witnessed by her male relatives,” Dorchester continued, “is surely proof enough first that Lyndale did not ravish her or father her child, and second that Manley Rochford did—by overpowering her and proceeding without her consent. You are safe on that charge. On the second you are safe too since you have an alibi, to which two witnesses are prepared to testify. But—is there any proof that Manley Rochford committed the murder?”
“It was almost certainly either Manley or Philip Rochford, my cousin,” Gabriel said. “He died seven years ago. Hence my title and my return to England. His version of events died with him, though both he and Manley swore to my uncle that they had seen me commit the crime. Both joined him in urging me to flee. Perhaps they were afraid their story would not hold up in court. But I am afraid probability would not bring a conviction in court. There were no other witnesses that I know of and therefore there is no proof beyond all reasonable doubt that one or the other of them shot Orson Ginsberg in the back.”
“And so,” Wren said, “even if he can be convicted on the one charge, on the other he cannot be. Which is exactly why we all came here this morning, Gabriel. If justice is to be meted out, or an approximation of justice, then it must be done in a different way.”
“A bloodthirsty wife you have there, Alexander,” Molenor said, but he was nodding approvingly at her.
“I like to see justice done, Uncle Thomas,” she told him. “Not only is Mr. Manley Rochford a—aravisherand a murderer, but he is also willing to commit a second, judicial, murder by framing Gabriel and sending him to the gallows. He must not be allowed to creep home, his only punishment being his disappointment over not gaining the earldom. And he is still the heir to that earldom. You had better watch your back, Gabriel.”
“You are so very right about everything, Wren,” Anna said.
“Hear, hear,” Bertie said. “Willhe creep back home?”
“He had not made any move to do so up to the time we came here,” Netherby said. “My man outside his house and the one outside his carriage house had a tedious night. So did the mysterious stranger who also had an eye on the house.”
“Stranger?” Gabriel frowned.
“Alas,” Netherby said. “My man was unable to identify him when he spotted him. And then he disappeared—or seemed to.”
“We are on it,” Riverdale assured Gabriel.
“What I would like to do at theveryleast, with apologies to the ladies,” Gabriel said, “is pound Manley Rochford to a pulp. Bertie, will you serve as my second?”
Jessica, he noticed without actually turning his head in her direction, clapped both hands over her mouth.
“It would be my pleasure, Gabe,” Bertie assured him.
“You are right about this not being appropriate for the hearing of ladies,” Dirkson said. “Remember that Rochford would have the choice of weapons if you were the challenger, Lyndale.”
“Women, Charles,” Anna said, “are not such delicate creatures as men believe. But . . . surely there is an alternative? Duels are not the answer to everything.”
“They are not, Anna,” Dorchester agreed. “Unfortunately they are theonlyanswer to some things.”
“How good are you with a pistol, Lyndale?” Molenor asked.
That was when Jessica’s forehead thumped onto the table, narrowly missing her coffee cup. She had fainted.
By the time Jessica returned to full consciousness and convinced Ruth that she had no intention of being an invalid for the rest of the day or even for one more minute, Gabriel was no longer in their suite of rooms. Apparently the breakfast meeting was over and everyone had dispersed.
It seemed a little suspicious to her that neither Anna nor Wren at the very least had insisted upon coming with her when Gabriel apparently had carried her unconscious form upstairs. It was alsoverysuspicious that he had not remained himself to hover at her bedside. Instead he had disappeared the moment she stirred but before her mind was clear enough to allow her to do anything constructive with her consciousness—like make him swear upon his most sacred honor that he would not be fighting any duels.
When Ruth had finished tidying her dress and repairing the damage to her hair, Jessica stepped into the sitting room and found Mary waiting quietly for her there.
“Mary! Do you know what’s happening? Gabriel has gone out to find Manley Rochford and challenge him to a duel and shoot him,” Jessica cried in a voice that sounded frantic even to her own ears. “But instead, he is the one who will end up shot. I have to go out and find—”
“Now, dear, calm down. Gabriel had to go out on some quick business,” Mary told her, sounding infuriatingly calm. “Just some very tedious business of the sort men always have to see about. He will be back here before we are, I daresay.”
“Before we are?” Jessica asked, determinedly ignoring the buzzing in her ears. She wasnotgoing to faint again. How very humiliating that she had done so earlier, and in front of half her family, who would by now have carried the delightful news home to the other half. Anna and Wren had behaved like warriors during that meeting, while she had . . . fainted. But it was nottheirhusbands who were about to have their brains blown out.
“Well, Jessica,” Mary was saying, smiling, “your dear grandmama and her sister are taking me out to show me the Tower of London and Westminster Abbey, and then we are going to a tea shop, which is apparently very fashionable. And you are to come with us. This issucha treat for me. Who would have thought I would ever be in London and attending a masquerade ball and visiting the Tower of London with the Dowager Countess of Riverdale? All my animals will be very impressed indeed when I tell them about it.”
“Mary,” Jessica said, sitting down on a sofa before she could fall down. She knew just what was going on, of course. There was no way on earth Mary could be this insensitive while smiling so very placidly at her. “I cannot go.”
