The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales) (15 page)

Grace frowned. ‘That is a serious allegation, Mr Arrandale.’

‘I know but I believe he would do it.’

‘Perhaps, if the dresser knew things that would implicate him in your sister-in-law’s murder.’

‘My thoughts exactly, Miss Duncombe.’

She sat upright and said with sudden decision, ‘We must talk to Wolfgang again.’

‘Now?’ Richard looked at his watch. ‘The day is well advanced. Your aunt will be expecting you.’

Wolf’s image swam before Grace’s eyes and she clasped her hands together, as if in supplication. ‘I have the strongest feeling we should tell your brother our suspicions. Immediately.’

Phyllida touched her husband’s arm. ‘We have two footmen up behind us, my dear. One of them could be sent to inform Mrs Graham that we will be delayed.’

‘But is it not too much for you, love?’ he asked her. ‘We have been gadding about all day.’

Phyllida smiled. ‘I have been sitting at my ease in a coach, Richard. I am not at all tired, I promise you.’

With a nod Richard jumped out to issue instructions to his servants and Grace gave Phyllida a grateful look, then was immediately assailed by doubt. Was she allowing her growing attraction to Wolf Arrandale to cloud her judgement? Perhaps she just wanted to see him again. It was late, she should go home, but the feeling persisted that they should talk to him. She comforted herself with the fact that the others had not argued strongly against it and soon they were crossing the river again, heading for the prison.

They travelled in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, but as they were approaching the Sessions House Richard sat up, staring out of the window.

‘I think we might have to revise our plans.’

There was something in his voice that alerted Grace and she followed his glance. Coming out of the coffee house on the corner of the street was the magistrate, Gilbert Hatcham, accompanied by a fashionably dressed gentleman. They stopped on the pavement to take leave of one another and the gentleman removed his hat to display his thick black hair and a fine set of whiskers. A cold chill settled over Grace.

‘Is that Sir Charles Urmston?’ she asked, her throat growing dry.

‘It is indeed,’ muttered Richard. ‘And he looks to be on the best possible terms with the magistrate.’

Chapter Nine

T
he officers in the prison were surprised to see Grace and Richard back again so soon, but a few coins slipped into waiting palms gained them immediate access. This time they were escorted to the cells, ranged along a corridor with numerous heavy wooden doors on one side, each with a small grille through which the prisoner might be observed.

‘Welcome to my new abode,’ said Wolf, when they were shown in and the door firmly locked behind them. ‘Did you see Kennet on your way in? He left only a short time ago.’ He looked about him. ‘An excellent valet. He brought me fresh clothes as well as my purse, which has purchased me this cell. It isn’t a palace, but at least it has a window and blankets on the bed. And I have a table and chair, so pray be seated, Miss Duncombe. Perhaps I could see if they can provide tea...’

‘Stop playing the fool,’ said Richard impatiently. ‘We do not have time for this.’

‘No, of course.’ Wolf sobered immediately. ‘Did you discover anything at Meesden’s lodgings?’

Wolf listened intently to his brother’s recital of what they had found and at the end his countenance was forbidding.

‘I am more than ever convinced that Urmston is behind all this,’ he muttered.

‘I am certain of it,’ retorted Richard. ‘We have just seen him coming out of the coffee house with the magistrate. They looked as thick as thieves.’

‘Well, that explains why he lured me to Southwark to meet Meesden,’ said Wolf. ‘He wanted me delivered up to Hatcham, whom he could trust to keep me locked away until the trial. That way I have little chance to prove my innocence.’

‘Then we must do so,’ said Grace. ‘We could advertise, put up bills asking for witnesses to the murder, offer a reward.’

‘I doubt you would have any success,’ Wolf replied. ‘We would need nothing short of a full confession from the real killer for a jury to find me not guilty.’

‘We are pretty sure who it is, so I will extract one from the villain!’ was Richard’s savage response.

Wolf shook his head. ‘Urmston will have thought of that. He will be on his guard, ready to use any attempt to intimidate him as further evidence of my guilt. By heaven, I begin to think it will take a miracle to extricate myself from this fix!’

Richard laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘We shall get you out of here, Wolfgang, never fear. I expect our great-aunt Sophia to be in London very soon.’

‘That is good news,’ declared Grace. ‘The support of the Dowager Marchioness of Hune can only help our cause.’

She looked so much more cheerful that Wolf kept silent, but he doubted even Lady Hune’s money and influence could help him now.

‘If only we knew who stole the diamonds,’ he exclaimed. ‘That would be one less charge to contend.’

‘But Meesden said they were
not
stolen,’ Grace reminded him.

‘Aye, so she did.’ Wolf paced the small cell, his brow furrowing as the thoughts chased through his head. ‘Perhaps...’

‘Perhaps they are still at Arrandale,’ said Grace, her face lighting up.

‘But if Meesden knew where, Urmston may have forced her to tell him,’ argued Richard.

‘There is that,’ said Wolf. ‘But he won’t have had a chance to get them. Richard, you must go to Arrandale immediately. Urmston will remain in town until his tame magistrate has committed me for trial, but once he knows I am safely locked up he will go in search of the necklace.’

Richard shook his head. ‘I need to be here with you. I’ll ask Lady Hune to go directly to Arrandale.’

‘By heaven, Richard, you cannot do that, Sophia is an old lady.’

‘But she is indomitable, Brother, and she has a large and impressive retinue to protect her. If I explain everything, she will keep the villain out.’

The distant chime of a clock floated in through the unglazed window. Wolf looked up.

‘Is Phyllida waiting in the carriage, Richard? You should go. Do not worry about me, there is nothing more to be done tonight.’

Grace rose and held out her hand. It fluttered like a wild bird in his grasp.

‘I shall come back tomorrow, sir.’

‘You would be advised to stay away.’ He saw the obstinate set of her mouth and added, ‘Truly, such attention would give rise to speculation. I would not have you become the subject of such gossip.’

Her head went up. ‘I will take that risk.’

Wolf knew he should forbid her to come, but for the life of him the words would not pass his lips. She was the one glimmer of light in his sorry, sordid history and he could not bear to lose it. Not yet.

When they had gone Wolf sat for a while, thinking over all they had told him, and when the warder arrived with his dinner he gave him a message for the magistrate.

* * *

Kennet brought Wolf’s breakfast the following morning, together with the latest newssheets and more fresh clothes. Once he was washed and dressed, Wolf dismissed his man and settled down to await his visitor. Noon passed, then one o’clock. Two. Wolf was lying on his bed staring at the square of blue sky through the little window when at last the door of his cell opened. He sat up.

‘Good of you to call, Sir Charles.’

Urmston sauntered in, a monogrammed handkerchief clutched in his hand. The cloying scent that wafted into the cell with him suggested he had soaked the linen in perfume as protection against the noisome odours of the prison. He glanced about him, a look of distaste on his florid features.

‘Hatcham said you wanted to see me. I had an appointment with my tailor and could not come this morning. However—’ he gave a mocking smile ‘—I knew you were not going anywhere.’

‘Aye,’ growled Wolf. ‘Thanks to you I am incarcerated in this cell and likely to be here for some time.’ He decided to go directly to the attack. ‘Why did you give Hatcham that poster for my arrest?’

Sir Charles spread his hands.

‘My dear Arrandale, I merely brought it to his attention, as any law-abiding citizen would do.’

‘Law-abiding?’ Wolf’s lip curled. He rose, towering over the man. ‘You killed Meesden, did you not?’

Urmston stepped back, but his cold, humourless smile did not falter.

‘
You
were caught with the knife in your hand and her blood all over you. No one will believe you did not murder her.’

‘But we both know I did not do it. And what about my wife?’ asked Wolf. He glanced at the closed door. ‘Come, man, now I am safely locked up, will you not tell me the truth?’

‘I will tell you nothing!’ Urmston spat out the words, his usual mask of urbanity slipping, but only for a moment. He looked down, tracing a crack in the floor with his silver-topped cane. ‘Is this why you wanted to see me, to try to foist the blame for your crimes upon me?’

‘I am innocent and you know it.’

‘But who will believe you?’ purred Urmston. ‘There are at least a dozen witnesses to testify against you and I am sure by now some of them even believe they saw you plunge the knife into that poor woman. And what could any character witnesses say on your behalf? You were hardly a model of propriety before you fled to France, were you? No, Arrandale, you will hang. And soon, I promise you. Now, if that is all I am off to my dinner.’ He lifted his cane to rap upon the door, then paused to say with studied indifference, ‘By the by, when you called on Meesden, did she tell you what had happened to the Sawston diamonds?’

‘Did she not tell you, before you killed her?’

Urmston’s eyelids flickered, but he gave a little shrug.

‘If you did not steal them, then I feel sure it was your wife’s maid. But that need not concern you, Arrandale, the theft will be laid at your door.’ Urmston called for the warder to let him out before he turned back to Wolf for one parting shot. ‘That, added to the two murders, will be more than enough to hang you.’

Alone again, Wolf sat on the bed. So Urmston did not know where to find the diamonds. That was encouraging, but it was not enough to save him from the gallows. Frustration gnawed at him, he wanted to be out of this place, instead he had to rely on his brother and an aged aunt to search for the necklace and try to build a case for his defence. If they could not—well, he would find a way to escape and go back to France, but somehow the life of an outcast no longer appealed to him. He wanted to remain in England with his family. With Grace.

He pushed the thoughts away and went back over everything Urmston had said, looking for any little clue that might help. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not hear the approaching footsteps, nor did he move when the key grated in the lock of his door. It wasn’t until the tall figure in a cloak and veiled bonnet stepped into the cell that he looked up.

He was on his feet in an instant.

‘You should not be here.’ He tried to mean it, but his heart was drumming erratically against his ribs. He could not take his eyes off Grace as she put back her veil.

‘I told you I would come.’

‘Yes, and
I
told you it was dangerous. Urmston has just left me. Did he see you?’

‘Yes, unfortunately. He was talking to Mr Hatcham when the warder was taking my details for the register.’

‘The devil he was! Grace, it was bad enough that you should visit me with my brother, but to come alone—’

She was unmoved by his fury.

‘I told them you are one of Papa’s parishioners and it is my duty to visit you on his behalf. Sir Charles heard it, too, but he barely noticed me, I think I was very convincing as a reluctant and disapproving prison visitor.’

‘Surely this is not the same lady who berated me so soundly for involving her father in this matter?’

He was shaking his head, but Grace saw that he was smiling. There was a mixture of admiration and disbelief in his look and she knew a tell-tale blush was not far away. Resolutely she fought it down.

‘As I told the constable, one should never shirk from one’s Christian duty, however unpleasant.’ She nodded towards her basket, saying shyly, ‘I am more used to taking food baskets to the poor, but I know you have funds and your man will fetch your dinner later, so I thought I might bring you books instead.’

‘Thank you.’

Wolf’s dark eyes were fixed upon her, unfathomable but disturbing. To cover her confusion she began to empty the basket.

‘They are from my aunt’s library. I have brought you some poetry, the
Gentleman’s Magazine
and the last two volumes of
Udolpho
.’ He had come closer and her skin prickled with awareness of him. She was trembling and her throat was dry, but she chattered on as she lifted the final book from the basket. ‘I knew the guards would search the basket so I felt obliged to bring you a Bible, too, although I doubt you will read it.’

‘Grace.’

His hand covered hers as she laid the Bible on the table. She had removed her gloves to sign the visitor register and his touch was like a spark on dry tinder. The shock of it set her heart hammering against her ribs. She fixed her gaze on the holy book lying beneath their hands and her mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of the marriage ceremony, of clamouring bells and bouquets of spring flowers. With a gasp she tried to pull away, but Wolf’s grip tightened. He drew her fingers against his chest, forcing her to turn towards him. Grace kept her eyes lowered, staring at the top button of his embroidered waistcoat. Thoughts flashed through her mind with lightning speed. He was not wearing his coat and that was most improper. She thought how white his shirt was, how well his waistcoat fitted him, how it enhanced the flat stomach and narrow hips.

How much she wanted to put her arms about him.

‘Grace, look at me.’

She heard his soft words but dared not obey. If she raised her eyes she would see the broad shoulders made even wider by the billowing sleeves of his shirt, the lean jaw, shadowed now with a fine, dark stubble, the sensuous mouth that only had to smile to send all sensible thoughts flying. She swallowed nervously and gave her head a tiny shake. She must not look into his eyes or she was lost.

Wolf growled. She felt the rumble against her hand, still captive on his chest. He caught her chin, gently but inexorably pushing her head up. She tried to close her eyes and pull away, but her traitorous body would not obey and she found herself gazing into his eyes. They were the violet-blue of an evening sky.

‘I...’ She ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘Must not.’

He was lowering his head and she could resist no longer. She had tasted his kiss before and was desperate to do so again. With a tiny cry she threw her free arm around his neck and reached up to kiss him. It was a fierce, reckless embrace and she felt clumsy, inexperienced, but only for a moment. Wolf’s mouth was working over hers and her whole body shuddered with delight. His arms went around her, holding her tight as the kiss deepened. Her lips parted and his tongue darted and delved, drawing a response from deep in her core. She was melting against him while his muscled body only seemed to grow harder. He was like a rock and she clung to him as waves of desire swept over her, leaving her weak.

* * *

Wolf raised his head, gasping like a drowning man. His body was shaking with the powerful hunger that coursed through him. It was the second time he had held Grace in his arms. She leaned against him, eyes half-closed and a delicate flush on her cheeks. But even now the languorous glow was fading. She lifted her head, a tiny crease of dismay already furrowing her brow. Soon she would be pushing him away, as she had done before. He could not bear to wait for her rejection so he released her and walked across to the window, rubbing one hand over his face.

‘Now do you see why it is so dangerous to come here alone?’ he demanded harshly.

When she did not reply he turned around. Grace was staring at the floor, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her.

‘I have been fighting and fighting against this,’ she muttered, as if to herself. ‘It means nothing, save that I have been too many years alone. It
cannot
mean anything. Once Loftus and I are married all will be well.’

‘Will it?’ Wolf shook his head, as much to clear his thoughts as to contradict her. ‘You are deluding yourself if you think Braddenfield will arouse such passions in you.’