Мэри Бэлоу - Someone to Romance

“And that would be me.” She took a few steps forward and linked her arm through the one he offered and stepped out of the room that was no longer her bedchamber without looking back.

There was feasting and conversation and laughter. There were speeches and toasts and more laughter. There were stories told of Jessica’s childhood, some touching, some funny, a few embarrassing to her. There were stories told by Sir Trevor and Lady Vickers of the week they had spent in the small vicarage where Gabriel’s father had had his living, celebrating the christening of young Gabriel. They had told about how the baby had smiled sweetly and widely and toothlessly in Lady Vickers’s hold, waving his little arms about as he did so, and how she had threatened to take him home with her and never return him.

“I believe that was the moment when he vomited all over your best dress, Doris,” Sir Trevor said, and everyone laughed again.

“Oh, it was not, Trevor,” she protested. “That was a different time. You were very well behaved at your christening, Gabriel.”

Gabriel smiled at her. He knew so little of his early childhood. He had had no one after the age of nine to reminisce about it.

“He lived up to his angelic name, did he?” the Marquess of Dorchester said.

“Don’t I always?” Gabriel asked, and Jessica touched the back of his hand.

“I just wish,” her grandmother said, “you were not taking my granddaughter so far away, Gabriel. And so soon. Tomorrow is too soon.”

“It is,” Jessica’s mother said with a sigh. “However, it is what happens when a woman marries, Mama.”

Some of the laughter had faded from the gathering.

“Perhaps you will be happy to know, then, ma’am,” Gabriel said, addressing the dowager countess, “that we will not be leaving tomorrow after all. Or even the day after. We will be remaining in town for a while. I do not know for quite how long.”

A few faces noticeably brightened.

“Oh,” the dowager duchess said. “That is good news. What made you change your mind, Gabriel?”

He got to his feet and looked down briefly at Jessica beside him. She nodded almost imperceptibly. “Something happened last night that I learned of this morning,” he said, “and it is time I shared some information that only a few of you already know. I am aware that most if not all of you have been curious about me and have wondered why, even though his permission was not necessary, the Duke of Netherby nevertheless gave his blessing on my marriage to his sister.”

“I believe we are all very glad he did,” Aunt Matilda said. “You do not owe us any explanation, Gabriel. If you have satisfied Avery, then we must all be satisfied.”

“Speak for yourself, Matilda,” Aunt Mildred said—Gabriel had been instructed by most of the family to learn and use their names. “I have been dying of curiosity.”

“That is kind of you, Aunt Matilda,” Gabriel said, and smiled briefly at both sisters. “I would hope this information will remain within the family for at least a few days longer, until I have settled some matters, but that will be up to you. But what I want to tell you now, as my new family, is that my legal name is Thorne. However, it is not the name with which I was born. That was Rochford. Gabriel Rochford. I am the Earl of Lyndale. Sir Trevor Vickers has had that fact officially confirmed. He was able to tell me that just before we sat down to eat.”

For a few moments the Westcotts were silenced.

“The long-lost earl?” Great-aunt Edith said, breaking the silence. “Well, bless my soul.”

“I say, this is splendid stuff,” young Boris Wayne said with youthful enthusiasm. “Rochford is not going to be at all happy, though, is he, poor fellow? Nor is his father, at a guess.”

“I think I decided to come up to London at just the right time,” Harry said. “This beats rusticating at Hinsford.”

“But what—”

“But why—”

Cousin Althea and Uncle Thomas began speaking at the same time. Gabriel held up a staying hand.

“It is a long story,” he said. “If you wish, I will tell it. But the reason Jessica and I will not after all be leaving for Brierley tomorrow is that Manley Rochford, my second cousin, who expects to have my title within the next few weeks, arrived in London last night with his wife.”

“Oh my,” Wren said. “We did not know that, did we, Alexander?”

“We knew he was coming soon,” he said.

Netherby, Gabriel noticed, did not look at all surprised.

“We do wish,” Estelle said, leaning eagerly forward across the table. “To hear your long story, that is, Gabriel. Please do tell it. But I would wager—if it were genteel for ladies to lay bets—that what Mr. Rochford said of you at Elizabeth and Colin’s party was not true at all. But how priceless that you were there to hear him and he did not know you. I suppose he had never seen you before in his life until you appeared here a few weeks ago.”

“Let the man speak, Stell,” her twin said.

“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.”

“She will do 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.