insist on remaining aloof and decline to participate in their planned action, evaporated. Gerrard felt the painful intensity in his gaze, for one instant felt the torment the outwardly stoic man had endured, and was humbled by it.
“You’re certain she’s-” Lord Tregonning glanced at Jacqueline. “Forgive me, my dear, but…” He looked again at Gerrard, his dark gaze fixing on his face. “You’re sure beyond doubt that she was not involved?”
Gerrard nodded. “However, I’m aware a painter’s opinion is not going to sway anyone in authority, although I will guarantee to sway all society. Yet in this case, there are numerous facts, observations and deductions that Mr. Adair has assembled which establish beyond doubt that Jacqueline was in no way involved in the deaths of Thomas Entwhistle, nor your wife, her mother, Miribelle Tregonning.”
Gerrard looked at Barnaby, passing the baton in their carefully orchestrated argument.
Accepting it, Barnaby succinctly detailed the evidence he’d gathered that proved it was impossible for a woman, especially any lady, to have killed Thomas Entwhistle, and briefly outlined why Jacqueline could not be a suspect in her mother’s death.
“In addition, the rumors have it that she killed her mother in a momentary rage, but there’s no evidence whatever, either from the staff, who always know such things, or from friends, many of whom have known her all her life, that she has ever been subject to momentary rages.” He glanced at Jacqueline, faintly smiled. “Not even mild furies.”
Turning back to Lord Tregonning, Barnaby concluded, “In short, the whisper campaign against your daughter is fashioned from whole cloth, totally unsustainable when examined, yet the killer-assuming, as I think we should, that it is he behind the rumors-was exceedingly clever. He used Jacqueline’s standing, more specifically the fact that she’s well loved by all about. By raising the possibility that it
Barnaby paused, then quietly said, “I have absolutely no doubt that a man killed Thomas Entwhistle, and that the same man killed your wife. His identity remains a mystery, but given these latest rumors-the ones circulating after the discovery of Thomas’s body-it’s safe to conclude he’s still here, in the neighborhood. He hasn’t moved away.”
Lord Tregonning drew in a deep breath. Slowly, he placed his hands on the desk. “Why have you chosen tonight to tell me this?”
The others looked at Gerrard.
“Because of these latest rumors. It was our intention to follow the plan you’d instigated-to finish the portait, then use it to open people’s eyes. With respect to your wife’s death, that approach still applies. But now Thomas’s body has been discovered, and the killer has grasped the opportunity to extend the suspicion surrounding Jacqueline. If we wait, and allow the web of suspicion ensnaring her to continue to be spun, unchallenged and unchecked, we’ll weaken our position, possibly to the extent that when the portrait is complete, even though it will showcase her innocence, that might by then be insufficient to reverse the tide the killer has set running.”
For a long minute, Lord Tregonning said nothing, then he turned to Jacqueline. “My dear, I owe you an abject apology. Why I ever listened to the whispers-” His voice quavered and he stopped, but his gaze never left Jacqueline’s face. “I should never have doubted you. My only excuse is that when your mother died-was murdered…I found it very hard to think. Not for months. I pray you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
The simple words, heartfelt and true, hung in the quiet room.
Then Jacqueline was out of her chair, rounding the desk to hug her father. “Oh, Papa!”
Gerrard looked away, at Barnaby, who was also giving father and daughter a moment alone; Barnaby’s blue eyes were alight-he looked positively smug. Millicent dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Gerrard sat back, and thought of Patience, and the twins, and other family moments he’d witnessed in which the females always cried.
The emotion in Lord Tregonning’s words replayed in his mind. He cleared his throat, then glanced across to see Lord Tregonning awkwardly patting Jacqueline’s shoulder.
“Thank you, my dear.” His lordship harrumphed loudly, then whipped out his handkerchief and blew his nose. Jacqueline squeezed his arm, then returned to the armchair, whisking a scrap of fine linen from her sleeve to blot her eyes.
“Yes. Right then.” Lord Tregonning realigned his blotter, then looked at Gerrard and Barnaby, and lastly at Millicent. “I thank you all for acting as you have-Jacqueline and I are fortunate to have such supporters. However”- his voice gaining strength, he lifted his head and squared his shoulders-“I assume, given the need to commence countering these insidious whispers immediately, that you have some plan in mind?”
Barnaby leaned forward. “Indeed we have.”
He explained.
Lord Tregonning nodded. “I agree. Given so many people imagine Jacqueline responsible for Miribelle’s death, and will therefore see her as the most likely to have killed Thomas, too, then
Barnaby glanced around. “We-all of us-need to behave, and be seen to behave, in a manner that doesn’t just state but screams our belief in Jacqueline’s innocence. Millicent made a good start this afternoon, but we need to go further.”
Millicent nodded. “But will that-our behavior-be enough?”
“It could be.” Gerrard thought of the power certain ladies of the ton, his Cynster connections, for example, could wield. He wished he could summon a few of them into Cornwall-Helena, Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, Lady Osbaldestone, Minnie and Timms, and perhaps Honoria and Horatia. They’d have Jacqueline on a pedestal, crowned with innocence, in a few days-then they’d whip up the troops to hunt down the real killer. He stirred and looked at Jacqueline. “But in this case, we can be more direct. Whispers can work both ways.”
Jacqueline read his eyes. “You mean
“Fact,” Barnaby answered. “He spread falsity, we’ll spread the truth. Ultimately, our truth will trump his lies. But even more telling, just by starting such hares in people’s minds, we’ll be chipping away at the base he’s built- it’ll make it easier, once the portrait’s complete, to turn perception around, and raise a hunt for the real killer, for him.”
Lord Tregonning slowly nodded. “As this blackguard has grasped the chance afforded by poor Thomas’s body being found to restart his whisper campaign against Jacqueline, then if we don’t respond we risk being unable to counter him later,
Barnaby blinked, then a wide grin split his face. “That’s absolutely right. He’s started his own downfall-how ironic.”
“Indeed.” A rare smile curved Lord Tregonning’s lips. “Now, how do we go about this?”
“Simple.” Gerrard proceeded to outline the tactics he’d seen used to excellent effect by his formidable female connections.
Millicent nodded. “The next major gathering is the Summer Hunt Ball, three days from now. It’s hosted by the Trewarrens. It’s an annual event, one everyone attends.” She looked at her brother. “What do you think, Marcus?”
“I think, in the circumstances, we all should go, myself included.” Lord Tregonning glanced at Gerrard and Barnaby. “I dislike the bustle of balls and parties-I’ve rarely attended such events in the past. For that very reason, my appearance at Trewarren Hall should create all the stir we might wish.”
“Indeed!” A martial light glowed in Millicent’s eyes. “Everyone will be astonished, and will fall over themselves to learn why you’re there. You may be a fusty old creature, Marcus, but you do have your uses-just by appearing, you’ll cause a furor.”
Lord Tregonning humphed. “Well, I count on you all to make the most of it-I’m not one for conversation, certainly not what passes for such in ballrooms these days.”
“Don’t worry,” Barnaby said. “When it comes to playing social games, Gerrard and I have been trained by experts.”
“Speaking of which,” Gerrard said, “Jacqueline’s gown, her whole presentation, will need to be perfectly gauged.”
Millicent nodded. “We must go through your wardrobe, dear. Perhaps, Mr. Debbington, you could assist us with
