The Unexpected Marriage of Gabriel Stone (Lords of Disgrace 4)

Dinner with the magistrate was surprisingly civilised. Sir Humphrey was a widow

er in his early sixties, a burly, down-to-earth man.

‘You’re better off here,’ he remarked as he gestured to Gabriel to refill his wine glass with the good Burgundy they had drunk with the beef. ‘It will do no harm for it to be known that you surrendered to me of your own free will the moment you heard the rumours. Makes a good impression, that sort of thing. Lady Edenbridge will be safe in that house with all your servants around her, I have no doubt.’

Nor had Gabriel. He would not have left her otherwise, but Corbridge had his orders, and Gabriel’s pistols, and he would lose a large wager with himself if Cris de Feaux wasn’t on her doorstep by tomorrow.

‘Sunday tomorrow,’ Sir Humphrey observed. ‘We won’t see the coroner before Monday, I imagine. He lives in Lewes, of course, you’ll recall from the original inquest, it being the nearest town to the house. You’ll not want to go to church tomorrow, I presume?’

‘I have no desire to disrupt a service, which is no doubt what would happen.’

‘Quite. Should I ask the vicar to call in? Perhaps you would welcome some quiet contemplation and prayer with him.’

‘Thank you, no.’ The last thing he needed was quiet contemplation. What he needed was to be alone with Caroline, a large bed and a Not Guilty verdict. What he wanted was his hands around her father’s throat. Neither of those ambitions could be confessed to the vicar. ‘The use of your library would be much appreciated.’ If nothing else the sight of his unwilling guest calmly reading might help convince the magistrate that he had no bloody crimes on his conscience. It was likely to be a long day.

* * *

‘Who the devil?’ Sir Humphrey enquired the next morning as the sound of the knocker reached the breakfast room. ‘We have hardly finished our meal. This is no time to be making calls.’

‘The coroner, perhaps?’ Gabriel suggested, moving aside the London Sunday papers that the footman had placed between the two men. Time enough for the first stagecoach to bring Monday’s budget of gossip, speculation and lies. He was not going to ruin his breakfast with yesterday’s.

‘He’ll still be at his own table. Yes, who is it?’

The footman looked decidedly flustered. ‘The Marquess of Avenmore, Sir Humphrey. And a lady, a clergyman, an army major and a young gentleman and they all say they want to speak to you. I told them you would not be available yet and they said they would wait.’

‘They want to speak to me, you mean,’ Gabriel interrupted. His brothers as well? And he had thought things could not get much worse.

‘No, my lord. They were very definite, it is Sir Humphrey they want to see.’

‘Put them in the study, fetch them refreshments and tell them I will be with them shortly.’ He waited until the man went out and turned to Gabriel. ‘Well? What is this delegation?’

‘A close friend, my wife and my brothers, I assume.’

‘With evidence?’

Gabriel shrugged. ‘I very much doubt it. As I have said all along, there were no witnesses to my father’s fall.’

‘Then if it is not evidence I do not need to wait for the coroner and I see no harm in you joining me. I haven’t had so much excitement since the last time Prinny’s entourage kicked up a riot in town.’

The party waiting for them in the magistrate’s study was certainly more tastefully dressed, and considerably more sober, than the new king’s cronies. Caroline, thank heavens, was pale but perfectly composed, the fine veil thrown back over her bonnet apparently her only concession to the fact that her husband was under house arrest and their name a byword over the nation’s breakfast tables. She was wearing the newest and most fashionable of her London walking dresses and smiled at him in a way that made him catch his breath.

At her side Cris, as elegant and cool as ever, stood to exchange bows with the magistrate. ‘Sir Humphrey? I am Avenmore. May I introduce Lady Edenbridge. Major Stone, the Reverend Mr Stone, Mr Louis Stone. I apologise for this early interruption to your morning, but we have evidence in the matter of the late Earl of Edenbridge’s death.’

‘Evidence? In that case I feel I should wait for the coroner.’ The magistrate looked none too happy.

‘There is none. There can be none,’ Gabriel said. Louis was white and he saw Caroline reach out and touch his hand for a moment.

‘Excuse me, Sir Humphrey.’ It was the nervous footman again.

‘Yes? What now?’

‘Mr Barton, the coroner from Lewes, sir.’

‘Already? Well, send him in, this cannot become much more irregular than it is already.’

Gabriel barely recognised the coroner, but then it had been ten years since the inquest and the man must have been in his fifties then. He stalked in like a dyspeptic heron, peered around and snapped, ‘I’ve come on the Edenbridge matter, Sir Humphrey. What is this? Trying the case already?’

‘Certainly not. Allow me to introduce you.’ The magistrate made the introductions and everyone sat down again, making the study feel uncomfortably small. ‘Apparently Lord Avenmore believes that some of those present have evidence to present.’