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.
“Miss Beck, of course. But you have perhaps forgotten,” Netherby said, “that the groom who took the wounded young fawn to her remained there for most of the time she and you were setting its broken leg. He is still employed at Brierley.”
“Ah,” Gabriel said, trying to remember. But yes, he seemed to recall that the young groom had been too squeamish to watch but too concerned to go away. He had hovered outside the cottage until the deed was done. “My man fell a bit short on that one, Netherby. Yours apparently did not. But yes. That is quite right. I had forgotten.”
“What we need now,” Aunt Matilda said, “is a plan. Our house, tomorrow afternoon. You will not mind, Charles?”
“Not at all, my love,” he said with great good humor, “provided you do not require my presence. In my experience plans are better left with the ladies.”
“Wise man,” Elizabeth said, twinkling at him. “I will be there, Cousin Matilda. So will Mama.”
“I will indeed,” Cousin Althea said.
“Another toast,” Riverdale said, getting to his feet and raising his glass. “To the Earl and Countess of Lyndale’s remaining in London for a while longer.”
There was a prolonged clinking of glasses and a chorus of voices.
“Jessica,” Gabriel said soon after that, “shall we be the first to leave? With many thanks to everyone who has made this such an unexpectedly festive day, considering the fact that we had decided upon a quiet wedding.”
She set her hand in his and got to her feet. “Yes, thank you all,” she said. “And now, if you will excuse me, I am about to get a little emotional.”
Gabriel tightened his grip on her hand and led her from the room while Netherby, with the mere lifting of one eyebrow and one finger, sent a servant scurrying to call up their carriage—minus all the flowers and all the hardware, Gabriel hoped, for the short journey to his hotel.
Jessica was a bit teary eyed, as she had warned. But he did not believe they were unhappy tears. He hoped not. All their wedding guests streamed out of the dining room after them to wave them on their way. It did not help her composure.
It had been an eventful wedding day. And it was not over yet.
Seventeen
The carriage Gabriel had purchased for his wedding day and the journey to Brierley Hall had indeed been denuded of its floral decorations and metallic noisemakers before it left Archer House. Even the remaining traces of the flower petals with which he and Jessica had been showered outside the church had been thoroughly removed. Those facts saved them from attracting undue attention on their way to his hotel. They did not, however, save them from a grand reception at the hotel itself, where Gabriel had been putting up since his arrival in London.
He had informed the manager that Mrs. Thorne would be joining him to spend the night here. Perhaps that bare announcement had raised an alarm, for during the weeks of his stay he had given no indication that he was a married man. Perhaps the manager, who had bowed to him with the utmost respect this morning, had feared that the hotel was about to fall into disrepute. Whatever the reason, he or his minions had done some swift research and had come up with the astonishing news that Mr. Thorne, a wealthy gentleman late of Boston, America, had that very day married the sister of no less a personage than His Grace, the Duke of Netherby.
The red carpet was out. Literally. It had been rolled down over the wide, shallow steps outside the main doors and across the pavement. It