The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales) (22 page)

‘Please, Wolf, help me. We must not do something we would both regret.’

His eyes blazed, but she dare not acknowledge what she read there, lest the final shreds of her control should snap and send her tumbling into his arms. Then, just as she thought she could hold out no longer, he looked away.

Wolf rubbed one hand wearily across his eyes. He had come pretty close to declaring himself, but what good would that do, she would not break her vows. It would only make her suffer even more. He had to keep to his original plan. Better she should think him unworthy.

‘Go then.’ He added harshly, ‘You were never mistress material.’

‘Wolf—’

‘Go!’ he snarled. ‘Get out, damn you.’

Blinking away the tears, Grace turned to leave.

‘And tell Croft to bring me the brandy,’ he called, as she reached the door. ‘I intend to get damnably drunk.’

* * *

Grace fled. In the empty hall she stopped, irresolute. Voices were coming from the drawing room, but she had no wish to join the family. They would know soon enough that their scheme had failed. If marriage had been their goal. Perhaps they were all as dissolute as one another and had wanted to see her disgraced. She ran to her bedchamber and locked the door, wishing with all her heart that she had never become mixed up with the infamous Arrandales.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he next morning Grace rose early and packed her trunk, instructing the maid to have it taken downstairs ready to be loaded into Sir Loftus’s carriage. Then she sat in her room, determined to remain there until it was time to leave. She had kept her book and her tambour frame with her to while away the time, but both remained untouched as she stared out of the window.

You were never mistress material.

The words had haunted her throughout the night and she had soaked her pillow with hot, bitter tears. How dare he even suggest such a thing! But with the dawn had come resignation and it settled over her heart like ice. She could not change him. Wolf was a rake and a vagabond. He could not settle down with one woman, he had told her so himself. And he was right, she was not cut out to be a mistress.

There was a knock at the door and Phyllida appeared.

‘Grace, my dear, Sir Loftus has arrived and asks that you join him in the morning room.’

‘The morning room? Oh, no—I would prefer to wait for him here, or in the library, perhaps.’

‘He needs to interview you and Wolfgang.’ Phyllida put out her hand. ‘Come.’

Bowing to the inevitable, Grace accompanied her down the stairs.

The daybed had been removed from the morning room and Wolf was dressed and sitting in a chair. Sir Loftus was standing in the centre of the room and when Grace went in he took her hand and kissed it. He was looking very serious.

‘Is all well?’ she asked him quickly. ‘Sir Charles is safely locked up?’

‘Yes, and on his way to Southwark for trial. With my testimony and that of the constables who also heard him confess to everything, there is no possibility of his escaping justice.’ He took a turn about the room. ‘I have been talking to Arrandale about the circumstances of his escape,’ he said at last. ‘We are agreed that no purpose would be served by mentioning your part in it.’ He fixed his serious gaze upon her. ‘We shall admit you visited the prisoner in Horsemonger Lane, but as far as the world is concerned you travelled to Arrandale with your aunt. As for what happened in the chapel, you brought a message for the family and became caught up in events. I think we might even avoid having you called as a witness.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her eyes lowered. ‘I am much obliged to you, Loftus.’

‘Aye, well, it would serve no purpose to drag you further into this sordid business.’

‘Quite.’ Wolf eased himself out of his chair. ‘Is that everything?’

‘You will need to give evidence at the trial, Arrandale, but with Lady Hune to stand surety for you I do not see any need to lock you up again.’

‘Much obliged to you,’ drawled Wolf. ‘Now if you will excuse me, I shall leave you.’ He turned to Grace. ‘We shall not need to meet again, Miss Duncombe, so let me thank you now for all you have done for me.’

A brief, polite nod and he was gone. The cold indifference of his parting cut Grace to the quick. She stared at the door, too numb even for tears. Behind her she heard the soft pad as Loftus paced back and forth across the carpet. He cleared his throat.

‘Since we are alone, Grace, perhaps...there is something we must discuss.’

She was still looking at the closed door. She wanted to weep, but there was no time for that now. She turned, forcing her lips to smile. ‘Yes, Loftus?’

He was frowning at the carpet. ‘Sit down, my dear.’

Grace sat on a chair, wondering how much more she could bear. Loftus had been more understanding than she had any right to expect. Was he going to demand some penance from her?

He coughed again. ‘I have been thinking, Grace. About us. The other night I promised I would stand by our engagement and give you the protection of my name.’ He took another turn about the room and at last came to stand before her. ‘I cannot do it, Grace.’

She hung her head. A confusion of emotions flooded her: shame and dismay that she had grieved this good man; relief that she would not be tied to a marriage she did not want. And regret. If she had not thought herself promised to Loftus, she would have given herself to Wolf last night.

And the eventual parting would have been even more painful.

She sighed. ‘It was a very noble gesture, Loftus, but I quite understand.’

Impatiently he interrupted her. ‘No, no, it is not that. I...my feelings have changed. I love another.’

So it was not her behaviour that had caused his change of heart, thought Grace. That was some small consolation.

‘Claire Oswald,’ he said. ‘My mother’s companion. She has always been such a comfort to Mama, but it was only these past weeks, when you were in town buying your bride clothes, that I realised she had become necessary to my comfort, too.’ He coughed. ‘If it was only my own inclinations then I would have fought against it, but I have reason to believe, to
hope
, that she returns my affections.’

‘Of course she does, Loftus, how could she not?’ She rose and gave him her hands. ‘I am very happy for you.’

‘Thank you. But I am aware this leaves you in a very difficult situation. I know better than anyone that your father’s finances are very limited. The marriage settlement—he was looking to me to provide for you.’

‘I shall explain it all to Papa. I hope...’ Something was blocking her throat and she was obliged to swallow hard before continuing. ‘I hope he will be pleased that I am not leaving him, after all.’

‘And there will be speculation. With everything that has happened people will talk.’

She put up her chin. ‘It will die down once it is seen that you still come to the vicarage.’ She added, with an attempt at humour, ‘I trust you do not intend to cut our acquaintance, Loftus?’

‘No, indeed.’ Some of the anxiety left his face. He picked up her hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Grace. I had no reason to expect such understanding from you. I shall go home and speak to Claire immediately!’

Grace was so lost in her own thoughts that his last words did not register until he had quit the room.

‘Loftus, wait!’ She jumped up, but the soft thud of the front door told her he had left without her. No matter. She would ask Croft to arrange a carriage for her.

She sank down on the sofa. She should find Wolf and tell him she was no longer betrothed, but her heart quailed. It was one thing to succumb to him in the heat of the moment, quite another to offer herself so blatantly. And for what? A few months of happiness, until his restless spirit wanted to move on. Then he would leave her, or worse, he would stay and she would watch his love slowly dying. The unhappiness she had kept in check all morning now welled up and she dropped her head in her hands.

‘Why are you weeping?’

The childish voice had Grace hunting for her handkerchief. She had not heard the door open, but now little Florence was standing before her, regarding her with her dark, serious eyes.

‘I am being very foolish, I beg your pardon.’ Grace wiped her eyes and smiled. ‘Were you sent to fetch me?’

‘No, I was looking for my father,’ said Florence, climbing on to the sofa beside her. ‘I wanted to see him. Diana said he was too ill yesterday and she would take Meggie and me to the drawing room this evening before dinner, but that is
such
a long time to wait.’

‘It is indeed.’

‘And he is
my
papa, not Meggie’s, and I want to see him
first
,’ declared Florence.

‘Of course. I can quite understand that.’

‘But I am a little bit frightened,’ Florence confided. ‘Will you come with me?’

‘Me?’ asked Grace, startled. ‘No, no, I could not.’

‘Why not? He likes you. I heard Aunt Diana and Lady Phyllida talking about it when they came upstairs last night. They said...’ Florence screwed up her face as she tried to remember. ‘They said he should marry you and settle down at Arrandale Hall, and I could come and live with you.’

‘Oh.’ Blushing, Grace slipped an arm around the little girl’s shoulders. She said gently, ‘I am not going to marry your father, Florence.’

‘Why not? Is it because of me? Perhaps you would rather have babies of your own.’

Grace’s blush deepened.

‘No, it is not you, sweetheart. Your papa does not want to marry me.’

‘But Lady Phyllida said she had never seen two people more in love.’ Florence fixed her candid eyes upon Grace. ‘Isn’t it true?’

Looking into those innocent eyes, Grace was unable to tell a lie.

‘Well, I love
him
,’ she said sadly. ‘With all my heart and soul, but he does not love me in the same way.’

Something made her look round. Wolf was in the doorway and suddenly Grace was on fire with mortification. How long had he been standing there?

She was aware of Florence shrinking closer and she put aside her own concerns. She forced herself to speak cheerfully.

‘Ah, so there you are, sir. Florence came here in search of you.’

‘And I was looking for
her
.’

‘Then I shall leave you alone. If you will excuse me.’

As she rose, Florence jumped off the sofa and took her hand.

‘
Please
do not leave me.’

Grace looked down at the little girl, but she addressed Wolf: ‘Lady Davenport should be here.’

‘She has taken Meggie riding,’ offered Florence.

‘Oh,’ said Grace. ‘Perhaps Lady Phyllida could—’

Florence shook her head and clung even harder to Grace’s hand. ‘She is lying down.’

‘Well, we must fetch someone,’ said Wolf. ‘Miss Duncombe has to leave. Sir Loftus will be waiting for her.’

‘Do you mean the man who came to see you earlier?’ the little voice piped up again. ‘He left a long time ago. That’s why I came here, looking for you.’

Grace felt Wolf’s eyes boring into her.

‘He left
without
you?’

* * *

Wolf had entered the room, expecting to see Florence with her aunt and instead he had walked in upon a tête-à-tête between his daughter and the woman he thought he could not have. But if Braddenfield was gone and Grace was still here...

He must go carefully, she was looking as nervous as a hind and might bolt at any minute.

‘Well then, if Miss Duncombe does not have to leave immediately, perhaps she would consent to bear us company while we become acquainted.’

‘No!’ cried Grace, distracted. ‘Sir, we have nothing to say to one another.’

‘But I have much to say to my daughter, Miss Duncombe. And she wants you here while we talk. Is that not so, Florence?’ Wolf dropped to one knee before the child and smiled. ‘There, my dear, I am far less threatening now I am not towering over you, am I?’ He shot a quick glance up at Grace. ‘I really do not wish to frighten anyone away.’

She was frowning, but he guessed she would not leave while Florence was still clinging to her hand. He turned back to his daughter.

‘So, Florence, you were looking for me?’

The child nodded silently, apprehension in her eyes.

‘Florence wanted to become acquainted with you before everyone meets in the drawing room this evening,’ Grace explained.

Wolf marvelled at her kindness in speaking for his little daughter, even when she would clearly prefer to be anywhere else.

‘An excellent idea,’ he said. ‘I wish I had thought of it.’

Florence looked at him warily. ‘Do you?’

‘Why, yes. One can never say everything one wants to say in a crowd. For instance, we must decide what we are going to call each other. I would like to call you Florence, if I may?’

‘Of course, that is my name.’ She looked at him shyly. ‘And may I call you Papa?’

Wolf smiled. ‘I should like that very much. And there is something else that I need to say. I must apologise for behaving like a brute.’

Florence giggled. ‘But that’s silly. We have only just met, so there is no need to apologise.’

‘Oh, there is.’ Wolf risked looking directly at Grace, hoping she would read the message in his eyes. She averted her gaze and he turned again to Florence. ‘I am very sorry that we have not been able to meet until now, but you see, I only recently learned I had a daughter, and as soon as I could I came to England to see you.’

‘You, you did? Uncle Alex said it was dangerous for you to come here. That you were very brave when the bad man shot you.’

‘It was Miss Duncombe who was the brave one. Did you know she nursed me through the night? And I was so ungrateful that I said some very cruel things to her. Things I did not mean and for which I am deeply ashamed. But you see, I thought she was going to marry someone else and I could not bear it.’

‘But why should she do that?’ asked Florence, puzzled. ‘She said she lo—’

‘That is quite enough about me,’ Grace interrupted her hastily. ‘Perhaps your wound is paining you, sir, and you should leave this interview for another time.’

He ignored the hint.

‘It does hurt a little,’ he admitted, climbing to his feet. ‘It would be easier if we could all sit on the sofa.’ He held out his hand to Florence. ‘You could sit between us, what do you say?’

‘Very well,’ she said, but she clung even closer to Grace.

He sat down at one end of the sofa with Grace perched nervously at the other. Florence was between them, leaning against Grace and holding her hand. Wolf smiled at Florence, but when he raised his eyes to Grace she put her chin in the air and looked stonily ahead.

‘Do you know, Florence,’ he remarked, ‘since your mama died I have been wandering the world, quite lost.’

‘Like a prince in a fairy tale?’ said Florence. She was gazing at him much more openly now. ‘Did you have lots of adventures?’

‘Hundreds,’ he replied promptly.

‘Tell me!’ Florence was no longer leaning against Grace.

‘Well, there was the time I helped your cousin Lady Cassandra escape from the French...’

Most of his adventures were not suitable for a little girl, but this one kept Florence transfixed. Her eyes positively shone when he described how he had jumped on his horse and ridden away, chased by the French officers while Cassie and Raoul made their escape.

‘They were taken on board a smuggling vessel and carried safely to England,’ he ended.