The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

by Sarah Mallory

  * * *

  Grace followed her aunt to a pretty yellow guest chamber at the front of the house. A good fire burned in the hearth and Aunt Eliza left her with Janet, the maid appointed to attend her, promising to look in a little later, to make sure she had everything she required. Grace felt herself relaxing. She had fulfilled her own and her father’s obligations to Wolfgang Arrandale. She could let him go with a clear conscience. And she had no duties here. All that was expected of her was that she should enjoy herself. She was determined to do so; she would take a little holiday before she returned to the vicarage and her wedding to Sir Loftus.

  * * *

  When her aunt knocked softly on the door a little while later Grace was propped up against the bank of pillows, reading one of the novels thoughtfully provided for her entertainment.

  ‘May I come in, my love? I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.’

  ‘Extremely comfortable, Aunt, thank you.’

  ‘Good, good.’ Aunt Eliza shut the door and came across to stand by the bed. ‘I am so pleased that you are come to stay at last. But I was a little surprised at the speed of your reply. I hope there is nothing wrong at home?’ She added quickly, ‘I know your father must be in good health or you would not have left him. But...is all well between you and Sir Loftus?’

  ‘Why, yes.’ Grace carefully placed a bookmark on her page and closed her book. ‘In fact, that is the reason for my coming to London, to buy my bride clothes. Will you help me?’

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, my dear.’ Aunt Eliza fell silent. She sat on the edge of the bed and plucked at a loose thread in the embroidered coverlet. ‘What Mr Wolfgang said, about you coming to London to escape him...’

  ‘When I learned his identity I was uneasy about his presence at the vicarage,’ said Grace. ‘There is a reward offered for his capture, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I did know that, my love. It must have been very difficult for you, engaged as you are to Sir Loftus.’

  Grace nodded. ‘Papa is convinced of Mr Arrandale’s innocence, but you know my father is so good he cannot believe ill of anyone.’

  ‘Titus is so unworldly I wonder more people do not take advantage of him,’ replied Mrs Graham frankly. ‘However, in this instance I agree with him. Wolfgang Arrandale was always a wild boy, but I think it was more an attempt to gain his parents’ attention rather than any inherent wickedness. His father was much worse in his day and, unlike dear Titus, Mr Arrandale could never see good in anyone, even his own sons. As I understand it he was convinced Wolfgang had murdered his wife and shipping him off to France only helped to confirm the boy’s guilt.’ She sighed. ‘It is very commendable of Mr Wolfgang to come back now and try to find out the truth, but it was all so long ago. I fear he is unlikely to succeed.’

  ‘I pray that he does, Aunt,’ said Grace earnestly.

  ‘Yes, I hope so too, my love, but if not...well, we must not let it concern us overmuch. These great families all have their trials and tribulations.’ She leaned forward to kiss Grace’s cheek. ‘Now, you must rest and in the morning we will decide just what bride clothes you should have!’

  Chapter Six

  The noise from the square woke Grace. Carriages rattled on the cobbles, hawkers shouted and there was the faint ring of hammers. She smiled. Aunt Eliza’s letters had mentioned the incessant building work taking place as London expanded.

  She dressed quickly and made her way downstairs, where she found her aunt at breakfast. She was not alone, a pug dog with an incongruous collar of sparkling gems was on the floor beside her, eating pieces of ham and chicken from a silver dish. Aunt Eliza smiled when she saw Grace.

  ‘Meet Nelson. I bought him as a companion when dear Mr Graham died. He is named after our heroic admiral.’

  Grace looked at the overweight little dog snuffling in the dish and wondered if the heroic admiral would consider it a compliment.

  ‘Mr Peregrine was up betimes and is even now preparing to leave,’ her aunt continued, with a warning glance towards the butler. ‘I was a little concerned that the poor young man might be a little, indigent, but he assures me he has sufficient funds. One would never think it, to look at him.’

  Grace was silent while Jenner served her with coffee and bread rolls.

  She said, as the door closed behind him, ‘He paid for everything on the journey here, ma’am, including the tickets. I believe he made his present fortune abroad, although it might be unwise to enquire too closely into his methods of acquiring it,’ she added darkly.

  ‘Very true! The boy was always a scapegrace. My dear, what is the matter? You are looking very censorious.’ Aunt Eliza put down her cup. ‘Pray do not say you have grown into one of those disapproving females who finds no fun in anything.’

  Grace waved her hand, unable to express herself. How was she to explain the confusion she felt about Wolfgang Arrandale? There was a darkness about him. It was like an aura. She had felt it from the first moment they had met. He had lived outside the law for so many years that perhaps he no longer knew the difference between right and wrong. He reminded her of an animal, a panther, lithe, alert and ready to spring. He was dangerous, she knew it in every fibre of her being. He fascinated her and that was dangerous too.

  Her aunt sighed.

  ‘You were such a lively little girl, Grace. You were forever climbing trees and tearing your gown, reading books full of knights and princes, always looking for adventure. What happened to that love of life, my dear?’

  ‘I grew up,’ Grace replied stiffly. ‘And I am now engaged to a Justice of the Peace.’

  * * *

  When she had finished breakfast Grace took her reading book into the drawing room, but she left the door open, and as soon as she heard Wolfgang’s deep voice in the hall she went out.

  ‘So it is time for you to leave us, sir.’

  ‘It is.’ He turned to her. ‘I am very grateful to your family for your hospitality. You need not be polite and say it was nothing. I am aware it was a great deal.’

  ‘No more than any Christian would do,’ she murmured. ‘Shall we see you again?’ The enormity of the task he had set himself filled Grace with dread and she had to ask, ‘What will you do, if you are not successful?’

  He shrugged. ‘Go abroad again. Make a new life elsewhere.’

  She put out her hand. ‘I wish you good fortune in your endeavours, sir.’

  ‘And I wish you good fortune in your marriage, Miss Duncombe.’

  She watched as he raised her fingers to his lips, a last chance to memorise every detail of that darkly handsome face, then he was gone.

  * * *

  Wolf heard the door behind him close as he walked away. It was a sound he had heard many times in his career, physically and metaphorically. As a wild young man, respectable mamas had shut their doors on him to protect their daughters, even though those daughters were only too eager to fall into his arms. Friends of his schooldays had turned their backs on him when his exploits became too outrageous, so he had entered doors that were never closed to a rich young man, those belonging to ladies who lived in discreet little houses in Covent Garden, the less reputable gambling dens and the dingy drinking taverns, where the night invariably ended in a bloody brawl. The only one that had ever hurt was the door to his father’s study, resolutely shut upon his sons unless they were hauled in for a reprimand. Even the beating that regularly ensued was preferable to the cold indifference his parents usually showed him. They saw him as a commodity, a means of continuing the family name, and Wolf was mostly referred to as a confounded nuisance. And his father believed him capable of murder.

  Wolf felt the familiar black depression creeping over him. It had overwhelmed him during those early years in exile when his innocence seemed far less important than the shame he had brought on the family. He h
ad decided then that it was his turn to shut the door. He made it clear he wanted to hear nothing more about England and the Arrandales. He had gone his own way, survived, prospered by fair means or foul and had expected to spend the rest of his life wandering through Europe as Monsieur Georges Lagrasse. Until last winter, when he had learned he had a daughter.

  Florence. Named after her mother. Did she look like her namesake, or was she a dark, thin child, as he had been? Was she happy? It was most likely she did not know what had happened to her mother, for she was only a child, but that would change. When she grew up and took her place in society the gossip mongers would not hesitate to drag up all the sordid details of her parents’ tempestuous marriage and its tragic end.

  When he had learned of his daughter’s existence he had realised it was impossible to shrug off all responsibility for the past. He must prove his innocence. If he could not do so then she, too, would find that many doors were closed to her, save those of generous, kind-hearted people like the Duncombes.

  The thought brought him back to Grace. She would not close her door to his daughter, he was sure, but he wanted her to know he was innocent, too. The thought took hold; he imagined how it would be to have her trust him. Perhaps even to like him. He remembered when she had come upon him washing himself at the kitchen pump, the hectic flush that had disturbed her calm serenity. Even now the thought made him smile. She was such an innocent he doubted she had ever seen a naked chest before! She had been shocked, but not frightened.

  He had wanted to pull her against him then and there, so she could feel his skin against her breast while he kissed that luscious mouth. And later, in the stable, he had allowed himself to give in to temptation. Why, he had no idea. She was not his type at all, far too tall and willowy for his taste. And far too respectable. Dammit, he didn’t like good women!

  But there was no denying that he wanted her approval. Wolf gave a little grunt of annoyance. It made no sense. She was about to be married to a man as good and respectable as Wolf was bad. But he could not bear the thought of her thinking ill of him.

  Wolf emerged on to Sloane Street and moved his portmanteau to the other hand, looking for a cab to hire. He must not allow thoughts of Grace Duncombe to distract him, nor could he afford to give in to the melancholia that had paralysed him for those first few years in France. He needed to find out the truth of what had happened at Arrandale Hall ten years ago. He had to right some of the wrongs that had been caused by his long absence.

  A battered hackney carriage slowed in response to his signal. He gave the driver directions to his lawyers’ offices in the city and climbed in. His investigations could take months and it might all come to nought. He must forget all about Miss Grace Duncombe and her family.

  * * *

  Two weeks later he was back in Hans Place, pacing up and down on the expensive Aubusson carpet in Mrs Graham’s drawing room and anxiously chewing his lip. This was hard. He had sworn he would not return, but he needed help and could think of no one else.

  * * *

  When Jenner came to tell Grace that ‘Mr Peregrine’ was waiting downstairs in the drawing room, she could not stop the sudden, soaring elation. She had tried to put Wolf from her mind, but he was there, at her shoulder every waking moment. Even in her dreams. She had known him such a short time, but it felt like for ever. In the two weeks since she had last seen him she had gone over and over every moment they had spent together, every look, every word and now she was quite certain he had not killed his wife. Such certainty was quite unreasonable, but in her defence, Papa and Aunt Eliza were both convinced of his innocence, too, and they had known him for much longer. After ten years there was only the smallest of chances he could clear his name, so she had to reconcile herself to never seeing him again, but it was very hard.

  Not that they could ever be anything other than friends. She was about to become Lady Braddenfield and as such, even if Wolf did clear his name and return to Arrandale, they would rarely meet. But for the moment, just the thought of seeing him again was enough to raise her spirits. She ran to her looking glass and patted her hair, but what she saw there gave her pause. She must not show Wolf this glowing face. He might misunderstand and think that she cared for him, that she could offer him more than friendship. Schooling her countenance to show only cautious reserve, she went slowly downstairs.

  * * *

  Wolf’s heart lurched when Grace entered the room. She looked more beautiful than ever in a pale-blue redingote over her cream gown. A matching bonnet swung from its ribbons held in the fingers of one hand. She did not smile at him and her dark eyes still held that wary look.

  ‘I am afraid my aunt is out, Mr Peregrine.’ Jenner had deliberately left the door open, but after a brief hesitation she closed it before turning to look at him. ‘You have not yet succeeded, then.’

  ‘No.’ He took another turn across the carpet and came back to stand before her. ‘I need help.’ Her brows rose a fraction. ‘I need the help of a lady,’ he explained. ‘A lady of unimpeachable reputation.’

  She stared at him for a moment, then walked back to the door. She was going to refuse. She was going to ask him to leave. Why should he be surprised? He had no right to expect more help from her.

  ‘Then to preserve my unimpeachable reputation we should not remain in here alone. I was about to take my aunt’s dog for a walk. Will you join me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He followed her into the hall and watched her place the straw bonnet over her curls, tying the ribbons beneath one ear in a jaunty bow, quite at variance with her solemn look. The tip-tap of clawed feet on the marble floor made him turn. A wooden-faced footman was leading a small and very ugly lapdog into the hall.

  ‘Thank you, Robert.’ Grace took the lead from the footman. ‘Come along, Nelson, it is time for your walk.’

  ‘Nelson!’ Wolf could not help the exclamation.

  ‘Yes.’ There was a definite twinkle in her deep-blue eyes now. ‘Shall we go?’

  They stepped across the road to the railed garden in the middle of the square.

  ‘As you can see, the gardens are very new,’ she said. ‘Once all the houses have been built I am sure it will become much busier, but presently there are very few of us who use this area. It is ideal for walking Nelson. I like to bring him out for an airing at least twice a day. My aunt indulges him dreadfully.’

  He glanced down at the little pug waddling beside her.

  ‘So I can see,’ he muttered.

  ‘He was much fatter than this when I arrived and wheezed most horribly. My next task is to convince my aunt to exercise him. I think it would be beneficial to them both.’

  ‘You have changed.’

  ‘Changed, sir? I should think so. My aunt has been spoiling me, buying me I do not know how many new gowns.’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ He frowned. ‘You are less...’ Repressed, he wanted to say. Not so starched up. Not so prim and proper. Impossible. ‘You are more cheerful.’

  ‘Perhaps that is because I no longer have a wanted man under my roof.’

  ‘Is that it? Did you feel the weight of my presence so very much?’

  She shook her head, a smile lilting on her generous mouth.

  ‘No, that is not the whole of it, but I could not help teasing you a little. As you teased me, did you not?’

  ‘I did and I point to this as proof of how different you are. You never laughed at me in Arrandale.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Has being in London made you so much happier?’

  ‘I was not unhappy in Arrandale,’ she said quickly. ‘Merely in need of a holiday.’

  ‘Are you regretting your betrothal to Sir Loftus?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Her answer was a little too quick. He said, ‘But you do not love him.’

 
; ‘You know I do not. But there is affection and respect. That is a good foundation for a happy marriage.’

  Perhaps, thought Wolf. It was certainly something he had never had in his own marriage.

  ‘You said you needed my help,’ she prompted him.

  ‘Yes.’ Where to begin? Now it came to the moment he was loath to continue, to embroil her in his sordid affairs.

  ‘We are alone here, sir, you can speak freely now. Perhaps you should start by telling me what you have been doing for the past two weeks.’

  ‘Perhaps I should. The day I left you I went first to the city, to see my lawyers. Old Mr Baylis was on the point of retiring when I married. His son has now taken over and he is a very different character, I could see that the moment I walked into his office. He would not have acknowledged me, but his two clerks recognised me instantly. He has sworn he will not inform upon me, but I do not know if I believe him. However, I am still a free man at the moment and I have instructed him to draw up papers giving my brother power of attorney. I shall also write to Richard, telling him of the matter, so the rascally lawyer cannot worm out of it.’

  They stopped while the pug relieved himself against a convenient bush.

  ‘So three more people now know you are in England.’

  ‘Many more than that. As soon as I arrived in town I looked up my old valet, Kennet. His brother owns a tavern in Bench Lane so he was not difficult to track down. Fortunately he was unhappy with his current situation and delighted to give notice and join me. I also discovered my tailor and my barber are still in business and visited them, but I am confident they will not give me away.’ He glanced down at Nelson, who was sniffing at his new Hessians and leaving a slobbery trail across their shiny surface. ‘The bootmaker was a different matter. The staff there were all unknown to me, so I thought it prudent to be Mr Peregrine, a rich gentleman from the country, intent on cutting a dash in town.’