The fine, sunny weather had held, Gabriel saw when he looked out of his hotel room window the following morning. In England one never knew what to expect from one day to the next, or even from one hour to the next. He had purchased a sporting curricle and pair the week before and hired a young groom. But a curricle, of course, called for fine weather, especially when one planned to share the high seat with a lady.
Horbath had put a letter beside his breakfast plate on top of the neatly folded morning paper. It was from Mary, Gabriel saw. She had received his own letter, then, which he had sent with Simon Norton, the man he had hired to be his steward. He had been obliged to take Norton into his confidence and had sent him to Derbyshire, not to displace Manley Rochford’s steward at Brierley, but to do some discreet information gathering. Gabriel had told him about Mary and instructed him to make sure she was secure in her cottage for the present and had sufficient money upon which to live. He had written to her himself to tell her he was back in England and she need worry no longer about her home and livelihood.
She had shed tears when she learned that he was so close, Mary had written in her letter—not unhappy tears, Gabriel must understand. She was still under notice to leave her cottage, and her allowance had been cut off, though Mr. Manley Rochford surely had no authority to do that yet. She was grateful that Gabriel had been thoughtful enough to send her money with Mr. Norton, whom by the way she considered a very pleasant, respectful young man. She did not need it, however. Through the years she had managed to put a little aside whenever she could for a rainy day and would be able to feed herself and the animals at least until Gabriel came home. Did he know that Mr. Norton had been taken on at Brierley as a gardener? And did he know that Mr. Manley Rochford was planning to leave for London soon with his wife to celebrate his elevation to the rank of earl? Did he know that Mr. Anthony Rochford was already there?
Gabriel knew. And when he opened the paper and came to the society pages, he read that the handsome and charming Mr. Anthony Rochford, son and heir of Mr. Manley Rochford, who was expected to become the Earl of Lyndale in the very near future, had been seen driving in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour yesterday afternoon with Lady Jessica Archer, sister of the Duke of Netherby. And this had happened the very day after he had danced and sat at supper with her at Lady Parley’s ball. Was the heart of the lovely and elusive heiress about to be snared at last?
Not if he had anything to say about it, Gabriel thought. Not by Anthony Rochford, anyway. One thing had been clear from Mary’s letter. There was no chance that she had misunderstood the eviction notice. Rochford had not had any change of heart since moving to Brierley. Without any right to do so, he had cut off the allowance her brother-in-law, the late earl, had made her. No matter what else he was doing at Brierley or planning to do—there had been no report yet from Simon Norton himself—Manley Rochford’s treatment of Mary was enough to seal his fate. And Gabriel’s too. There was to be no miraculous reprieve, and therefore no return to his life in America.
Let the courtship begin, then.
The front doors of Archer House opened as he drew his horses to a halt outside at almost precisely one o’clock. Someone must have been watching for him. Netherby stepped out as Gabriel was descending from his high seat and handing the ribbons to his groom.
“A neat sporting rig,” Netherby said, looking the curricle over unhurriedly. “And a fine pair of matched grays. You have a good eye.”
“I believe I do,” Gabriel agreed. Bertie Vickers had recommended a pair of chestnuts when he had accompanied Gabriel to Tattersalls, but to Gabriel’s eye they had seemed all show and no go.
“Lady Jessica is of age, as you are surely aware,” Netherby said, patting the neck of one of the horses and running his hand along it. “She is also independent of spirit and likes to insist upon making her own decisions regardless