The reaction was worthy of any melodrama. There was a gasp followed by loud murmurings followed in turn by frantic shushing noises.
“Papa?” Anthony Rochford sounded close to panic now.
Manley ignored him. He was having a bit of an onslaught of panic of his own, Gabriel guessed. But he mastered his emotions with a visible effort. He thrust back his shoulders and continued to point a now shaking finger at Gabriel. He looked rather magnificent, actually, with his crown glinting in the candlelight from the chandelier overhead. All he needed to complete the picture was Excalibur clutched in his hand.
“This man,” he said, addressing the crowd, which must have swelled to consist of almost every guest at the ball. “This man, who changed his name and hid away in America, as well he ought, for thirteen years, has now been driven by ambition to consider it worth the risk of returning at the last possible moment to claim his birthright. I am here to stop him in the name of justice.”
“You may try, Manley,” Gabriel said. He was surprised by how little hate he felt for his cousin, who would have sent him to the gallows thirteen years ago and would do it again now. He felt only contempt.
“This man,” Manley said. “This Gabriel Rochford is a murderer.”
There was another wave of sound. Manley waited for it to subside, as it soon did. No one wanted to miss a word. He took a step forward, leaving his wife and son slightly behind him. He knew how to play to an audience, Gabriel thought appreciatively.
“This man,” Manley continued, “ravished the young and innocent daughter of a neighbor of the Earl of Lyndale, his uncle, and left her in disgrace and with child. When confronted by the young lady’s brother and my dear friend, Gabriel Rochford murdered him. He shot him in the back. I witnessed him doing so, though I was too far away, alas, to stop him. Is there a worse or more cowardly crime than to shoot an unarmed man in the back?”
The cream of society obviously did not think so. The murmur this time was uglier. Equally ugly glances were being directed Gabriel’s way.
“He escaped,” Manley said, “before my cousin, the earl, could have him apprehended. A sure admission of guilt.”
“Perhaps we can take this discussion elsewhere,” the loud, overcheerful voice of Lady Farraday said. “Perhaps—”
Manley ignored her. So did everyone else.
“This man should be seized now,” he said, “before he can escape again. Gabriel Rochford is a dangerous man and worthy only of a dark prison cell until he can hang by the neck until he is dead.”
The murmurings were becoming a little louder and a little uglier. The situation was about to turn downright nasty. At any moment now, Gabriel thought, he was going to be tackled and brought down on the ballroom floor, his arms pinioned behind his back. Perhaps it was only social etiquette and the presence of ladies—several of whom looked just as outraged as their men, however—that had prevented its happening already.
“I find it a little strange, Manley,” Gabriel said, and the need to hear what he had to say outweighed the urge to prevent him from fleeing. Silence fell almost immediately. “I find it strange that you saw me shoot Mr. Orson Ginsberg, my friend, in the back. Of course, by your own admission you were some distance away and were perhaps mistaken about the identity of the murderer. You were the only witness, were you?”
“I was not,” Manley said. “My cousin was with me. Your cousin too. Mr. Philip Rochford.”
“Ah,” Gabriel said. “The late Philip Rochford, that would be.”
“He reported what he saw,” Manley said, “to a number of people, including the earl, his father, and representatives of the law. You made a grave mistake in coming back to England, Gabriel Rochford. If you believe your prospects will protect you—”
“I find it strange,” Gabriel said, cutting him off, “because I know of two other witnesses who are willing to swear, in a court of law if necessary, that I was nowhere near the scene of the murder at the time it was committed.”
“Oh yes?” Manley said. He was sneering now and looking about him to encourage his audience to sneer with him. “Produce them, Gabriel Rochford.”
Gabriel felt someone step up behind him and tug lightly on his domino. Jessica looked back and released her hold of his arm in order to step to one side and draw Mary into the gap