No guns.
No deaths.
The mantra had run through her head without ceasing since before she left the hotel. Her head believed it. Her stomach knew it all to be a blatant lie.
Each of them took one tiny sandwich while Great-aunt Edith poured the tea. Each of them looked at her tiny sandwich, and each of them dutifully bit into it.
Each of them, perhaps, was hearing that same mantra repeat itself to the point of utter weariness.
The famed tearoom sandwich felt and tasted like cardboard in Jessica’s mouth. She chewed and swallowed, half expecting to choke. She did not.
“Ah,” Mary said at last, interrupting some historical feature of Westminster Abbey that Grandmama was recounting for their edification. Her face lit up with a smile. “Gabriel!”
Jessica turned her head sharply and then leapt to her feet, tipping her delicate chair to the floor as she did so. He was striding across the tearoom, narrowly missing a few tables that stood in his way. His eyes, burning hot in a pale face, were focused upon her. And he caught her up in a tight hug—or she caughthimup. It was impossible to say which of them was the more guilty of causing such a scandalous public spectacle. For the moment she did not care—or, indeed, even think of such a triviality as propriety.
“I am all right,” he murmured against her ear. “I wanted you to know that as soon as possible. I have only just been able to get away. I am safe. You can stop worrying.”
She lifted her face to his. He was deathly pale. And he kissed her, very briefly, on the lips.
She was jolted back to reality by the burst of applause and laughter all around them.
“Oh,” she said.
Gabriel had a little more presence of mind. He released her, looked about the room, and removed his hat. “I do beg your pardon,” he said, including the whole clientele with a sweeping glance.
His words were met with more laughter. Someone—surely one of the few men present—whistled through his teeth.
“Gabriel,” Grandmama said as he leaned down to pick up Jessica’s chair—it was undamaged, she was happy to see. “Do join us.”
And someone rushed up with another chair and someone else appeared with another place setting, and within a minute at the longest he was seated at their table. The general hubbub died down, though Jessica did not doubt they were the focus of avid scrutiny from all sides and would be the subject of numerous conversations for at least the rest of the day.
“We have had a wonderful time, Gabriel,” Mary said. “And now it has become more wonderful, especially for dear Jessica. You have had a good day too?” She was smiling her sweet, placid smile, giving everyone, both at their table and at all the rest, time to settle down to a semblance of normalcy.
He spoke very quietly, for their ears only, as Great-aunt Edith poured him a cup of tea. “There has been a spot of bother,” he said, smiling. “Nothing for any of you to worry about. I am delighted you have had a good day. The weather has certainly been your friend.”
His smile succeeded only in making him look paler.
“A spot of bother?” Grandmama asked.
“Yes,” he said. “It delayed me for a while, ma’am. But it is being very competently dealt with by Netherby and Dorchester and Riverdale. As soon as I judged my presence to be no longer essential—at least for the present—I came to set your minds at rest. I hoped I would find you still here.”
“Withwhatare they dealing competently, Gabriel?” Jessica asked. She was chewing the second half of her sandwich. It tasted only marginally better than the first.
“Manley Rochford is dead,” he said, and his hand closed tightly about hers on the table.
She lifted her chin. She wasnotgoing to faint again.
“Oh, Gabriel,” Mary said. “How?”
“I arranged a rendezvous with him in Hyde Park,” he told them. “I intended to . . . punish him before allowing him to leave London and return home. There is no proof, you see, that he murdered anyone. And the other charge would merely drag the name of an innocent woman through the mud and would probably not result in a conviction. So I knew there was really no legal recourse for achieving justice. I decided instead to confront him myself. But not in a duel. I sent him a message simply asking him to meet me in Hyde Park. I had people with me and others keeping an eye upon any route he might take to join me. I did not expect any real trouble, but unfortunately I underestimated him. He brought a gun with him and would have shot me in the back with it had not Mr. Ginsberg shot him first—and killed him. Ginsberg is the man whose daughter was ravished and whose son was murdered. I do beg your pardon. But I saw no way ofnotletting you know.”
Jessica clutched his hand. And they were all silent for a long minute.
“I will say only this,” Grandmama finally said, keeping her voice as low as his had been. “I amnotsorry he is dead. He deserved to die. And I am not sorry he was killed by Mr. Ginsberg. It is fitting that he was the one to mete out justice since no court of law would be able to do it. Now.” She raised her voice somewhat. “A scone, Miss Beck? With strawberries and cream? I can assure you they are always delicious here.”
And, amazingly, they continued with tea just as though this were any other afternoon of social leisure.
A week later Viscount Dirkson and his wife stood just inside the open doors of their drawing room, greeting the select group of guests who had been invited to their soiree. Aunt Matilda looked so very much younger and lovelier than she had two years ago, before she met the love of her youthful years again and then married him, Jessica thought as they hugged. Aunt Matilda glowed with happiness even after the two years of marriage.
