both of whom made her want to run for the hills or some deep, dark cave or her bedchamber with an extra bolt added to the door.
It seemed she was not ready for marriage after all—and perhaps never would be.
She caught Mr. Thorne’s eye over the rim of her glass, and he raised his eyebrows. Why was it she had the feeling he had detected her inner amusement—albeit a rueful amusement? There was no hint of a smile on his face.
“I cannot tell you,” Mr. Rochford was saying, addressing Elizabeth, “how honored I am to have been included in your guest list in what I can see is essentially a family gathering. I suppose I must grow accustomed to being treated with such deference. It still seems much like a dream that soon my father will be Earl of Lyndale in name as well as in fact. And that I will be his heir.”
“We are delighted you were able to come,” Elizabeth said, smiling warmly at him.
“In fact?” Mr. Thorne asked. “Your father will be earl in name as well as in fact?”
“Ah, yes,” Mr. Rochford said. “Brierley Hall was falling into chaos and disrepair in the absence of a firm-handed master. Servants, neighbors, hangers-on—they were all taking advantage of the fact. Much as my father wanted to cling to hope, even after all hope was realistically gone, that my cousin would be found alive and would return to take responsibility for his inheritance, he was eventually forced to acknowledge that it was not going to happen. Much against the grain, and knowing he might be accused of doing what he was not yet legally entitled to do, he took up residence at Brierley a while ago and began the difficult task of putting the estate to rights. It has all been very distressing for him—for all of us. Yet he still holds out hope that at the last moment Gabriel will reappear to lift the burden from his shoulders.”
“Ah,” Mr. Thorne said. “Gabriel, was he? That is my name too. I have never encountered another, though I am not encountering one in person now, alas, am I? Unlike your father, you are sure he is dead?”
“There can be little doubt,” Mr. Rochford said, shaking his head sadly. “Though I hope I am wrong. I am afraid my cousin was ironically named, however. He was very far from being an angel.”
“Oh, he was a rogue, then, was he?” Peter asked, grinning, his interest noticeably piqued.
“One hates to wash one’s family linen in public,” Mr. Rochford said with a sigh, and then proceeded to do just that. “I am afraid he was a severe trial and disappointment to the late earl, his uncle, who had taken him in out of the kindness of his heart after his father died. A little wildness in a boy, especially an orphaned lad, is to be expected, of course, and is not a bad thing in itself. But as he grew older he grew increasingly wild and unmanageable, even vicious at times. My father’s cousin, the earl, hushed up some of the worst of his excesses in the hope, I suppose, that he would learn from his mistakes and grow to a more sober maturity. Finally, however, there was a scandal that could not be silenced. It involved the daughter of a neighbor and ended up with the death of her brother. There could, of course, be other explanations than the obvious ones, but Gabriel fled the very same night as the death and no one has heard from or of him since. Would an innocent man flee instead of remaining to clear his name or do the decent thing?”
“It sounds to me, then,” Estelle said, “as if it might be better for all concerned if he is dead. Did you know him well, Mr. Rochford?”
“Well enough,” he said with a sigh. “He was a likable boy. I was fond of him. It grieved me to see his wildness turn into vice—if indeed that is what happened. I do not wish to judge him despite all the evidence. I certainly do not wish him dead. People do change, after all. And perhaps there was an explanation he did not stay to offer. Selfdefense, perhaps? I would rather give him the benefit of any small doubt there may be than condemn him. Like my father, I wish even now he would reappear to claim his inheritance.”
No he did not, Jessica thought, opening her fan and plying