‘Why not?’ Caroline demanded, keeping her voice moderate with an effort. Even so, heads were turning. ‘You acknowledged me this morning.’
‘I was prepared to make every allowance for you, given your blameless record since your come-out and the fact that, despite your shocking elopement, you married immediately and with such distinguished sponsors. But I am not prepared to give countenance to the wife of a murderer. A patricide.’ She turned on her heel. ‘Come, girls.’
‘No, you will not turn your back on me after making such an accusation.’ Caroline caught at her sleeve, jerking her to a stop. ‘Where did you hear such lies?’
‘Why, today’s Morning Post and a letter from London from my good friend the Duchess of Brancaster. Now, unhand me, Lady Edenbridge.’
She marched away and Caroline turned, aghast. People were slowing, someone pointed and just in front of where Gabriel was backing the team, a couple crossed the road to the other side, heads averted.
‘What the devil?’ he demanded as the curricle drew level with her.
‘She said...she says the newspapers say...that you are a murderer.’
Chapter Twenty
‘Get in.’ Gabriel held out a hand to help her. ‘Smile. Don’t cry.’
‘I am not crying,’ Caroline said between gritted teeth. ‘I am furious. How dare she? How dare the Morning Post? It is libel, you must sue them. Who are you supposed to have murdered, for goodness sake?’
‘My father, I assume,’ Gabriel said as he drew rein outside their rented house. ‘Can you manage to get down? Go straight inside and wait while I return this to the mews.’
That was enoug
h to knock the anger clean out of her. Caroline limped up the steps, back straight, chin up, and the door swung open before she could knock. James, the footman, closed it, virtually on her heels.
‘My lady, the newspapers—is his lordship coming back soon?’
‘Yes.’ Ebbing fury left her sick and weak and it took a conscious effort to speak calmly. ‘Take the decanters to the drawing room. Is there any post?’
‘Yes, my lady.’ He hurried after her with half a dozen letters on a silver salver and three folded newspapers.
Most of the letters were for Gabriel, but she recognised Tess’s neat black handwriting and broke the seal without sitting down.
My dearest Caroline,
I hope this reaches you before the news is abroad in Brighton, but I doubt it. Your father has descended on London telling all who will listen that he had the man who ‘abducted’ his daughter investigated and has found a witness who swears that Gabriel murdered his own father twelve years ago.
Cris tells me that he knows about the accident and that it cannot have been anything else, and of course we, and all your friends, are countering the rumours wherever we hear them.
Cris is writing and will do nothing more until he hears from Gabriel whether he wants him to secure the services of the best lawyers or whether he is coming back to London himself. He says to tell you, ‘Courage!’ and to do your best to stop Gabriel committing murder in reality.
Tamsyn and I stand ready to come to you, if that would help, or to do whatever you ask.
Your loving friend,
Tess
‘It was my father,’ she said the moment Gabriel walked into the room. ‘He is telling everyone that he has a witness who says you murdered your father.’ She thrust the letters into his hands. ‘Cris has written and I think that one is from Alex.’ When he took them she went and poured brandy into two glasses and brought one to him. Then she sat and waited, fighting the churning panic. This was her father’s revenge, she had brought this down on the man she loved.
Gabriel put the letters down unopened and ignored the brandy. ‘Are you not going to ask me if I did it?’ His eyes were dark and steady as he watched her face, but lines bracketed his mouth and his voice was harsh.
‘Of course you did not.’ But a tiny worm of doubt stirred. Something dreadful had happened at Edenvale, something that had made the place hateful to Gabriel and his father had whipped him unmercifully. Surely not...
‘It was brought in at the inquest as an accident. There were no witnesses. He fell down the stairs, smashed in his head on the marble, broke his neck, but no one could account for why,’ Gabriel said. He had his composure again and his voice was devoid of emotion. ‘Your father’s investigator has turned up the old case.’
‘Was he drunk?’ she managed.
‘At four in the afternoon? No. Stone-cold sober. None of the servants would admit to being in the hall or near the head of the stairs. By the sound of it there must have been someone after all and your father’s money has loosened their tongue.’