The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘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.’

  She put her hands to her head, pushing her fingers against her temples.

  ‘You misunderstand me,’ she said slowly. ‘I do not want him to arouse me in that way. I had hoped to share those appetites once, with Henry, my first, my only love, but, but carnal desires have no place in my life now.’

  He could not allow that, not when she had been in his arms, matching him kiss for kiss.

  ‘Well, they should have a place!’ He reached out and caught her hands. ‘Desire is not a sin, Grace, it is natural and you should not marry a man you do not desire.’

  ‘No!’ She backed away from him, crossing her arms over her breast. ‘Henry and I loved each other, we longed for the day when we could consummate our love and when I lost him it was unbearable.’

  ‘How old were you when he died? Eighteen, nineteen?’

  She sank down on the edge of the bed, hunched over as if in pain.

  ‘I was nineteen. We were very much in love. We were made for one another. I knew it, even though we had known each other for less than two years. Can you understand that?’

 
‘Yes, I can.’ He knew now it was possible to fall in love in less than two months.

  ‘Henry was my life,’ she said simply. ‘When he was taken, a part of me died, too.’

  ‘But only a part of you,’ he said. ‘For the past five years you have been afraid to live. You have been afraid to allow yourself to feel anything. Even your engagement to Braddenfield is a safe and sensible choice.’

  ‘You make it sound like a crime.’

  ‘It is, when you could do so much more with your life.’

  ‘How dare you criticise me,’ she retorted, stung. ‘I was very happy, until I met you!’

  ‘If I have made you feel again then I cannot regret it, Grace. Oh, I know I am not the right man for you, I have lived for too long with the devil at my shoulder, but there are other men, good men, who would love you and make you happy, if you would give them a chance. You are too young to bury yourself away in a loveless marriage. You should be out in the world, living. Loving.’

  ‘I do not want that!’

  Her anguished cry silenced him.

  She dragged the back of her hand across her eyes.

  ‘When you came into my life I knew you were dangerous, someone even said you walk with the devil, but I did not want to believe it. Papa was keen to help and I, well, I thought a little adventure might be enjoyable, but it isn’t. Not at all. It has cut up my peace most horribly, not least because I know I will not be able to tell Loftus and one should not have secrets from one’s fiancé. I shall have to live out my life with that on my conscience, but I am promised to Loftus and I shall stand by my vow. I want to marry him. I shall be situated near my father and my future will be secure. That will please Papa.’

  ‘And will it please you, too?’

  ‘Yes.’ She took out her handkerchief to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. ‘I want a safe, quiet existence. I beg your pardon if my actions just now made you think otherwise, but that part of my life is buried with Henry.’ She raised her solemn, resolute gaze to his. ‘Henry was a paragon of goodness. He is the yardstick by which I measure all other men.’

  Wolf had always known she was too good for him and now she had told him that her previous love was a saint. Very few men would match up to such a standard and certainly not an Arrandale.

  He sighed. ‘If I have caused you unhappiness I am very sorry for it and I beg your forgiveness. Believe me, you have done nothing for which you need reproach yourself. Go home and forget me, Miss Duncombe.’

  Grace felt as drained and empty as the basket Wolf pushed into her hands. He hammered on the door and shouted for the warder. As the key grated in the lock she rose and he reached out to pull the veil over her face.

  ‘Thank you for your kindness, ma’am, and allow me to wish you every happiness.’

  Without a word Grace left the cell and made her way up the stairs. When she reached the office her hand was shaking so much she could barely write her name to sign out. Janet was waiting in the carriage, but although Grace could respond calmly to her anxious enquiries she kept her veil down, knowing that tears were not far away.

  Grace had never told anyone how she had felt about Henry Hodges, the unfulfilled cravings and desires that had haunted her dreams. She had never even told Henry, when he was alive. She had always assumed he felt the same, but now she wondered. Henry’s most daring move had been to kiss her cheek and when, on one occasion, she had tried to put her arms about him he had held her off, saying gently that there would be time for all that once they were married. In fact, there was no time at all. Within the month he was dead. A tear slipped down her cheek. She had loved Henry so much. No one could take his place. No one, least of all a man like Wolf Arrandale.

  All the way to Hans Place Grace wondered what she should do. To stay away from Wolf, to abandon him to his fate, seemed like the coward’s way out. She had thrown herself at him in a most shameful way and she must now atone for it. Wolf had been surprised into reacting, but he was the one who had pushed her away. And he had told her quite plainly that he was not the man for her, so it was not as if her lustful feelings were reciprocated. She must show him and the world that she was strong and compassionate, a suitable wife for a magistrate. Wolf might not want her in that way, but her visits would help to break up the long days of his incarceration. She would be doing her duty. Dear Henry had died doing his.

  And what she felt for Wolf Arrandale would fade. Did not Papa say often and often, ‘Blessed is the man that endureth temptation?’ She must face this temptation and overcome it.

  She quelled the tiny, traitorous voice that suggested that she wanted to see Wolf, that the tug of attraction was too great to resist.

  * * *

  By morning Grace had convinced herself that she was making too much of what had happened at the prison. She had been overcome by the horrors of Wolf’s situation and had wanted to comfort him, nothing more. Good heavens, if Daniel could walk into a lion’s den and survive overnight, surely she could spend an hour visiting an innocent man in his prison cell.

  * * *

  Mrs Graham looked up from her breakfast to smile as Grace came in.

  ‘What an energetic girl you are, my love,’ she greeted her niece. ‘I have only just left my room and you have already taken Nelson for his morning walk.’

  ‘Then we may break our fast together, ma’am,’ Grace replied, sitting down at the table.

  ‘And I am very glad to see you up and about,’ remarked Aunt Eliza, as Jenner filled their coffee cups. ‘You were so quiet at dinner last night I was afraid you might have caught something in that dreadful gaol.’

  ‘No, no, I am quite well,’ Grace reassured her. ‘I was merely troubled yesterday.’

  ‘And no wonder,’ said Aunt Eliza. ‘Mr Arrandale’s plight is indeed very worrying. I was horrified when you told me he had been locked up for the murder of that poor woman. I am as convinced as you are that he is innocent, but thankfully he has his brother to support him now, to say nothing of the rest of the Arrandale relations, so there can be no need for you to go to that horrid prison again.’

  Grace helped herself to a bread roll. ‘On the contrary, I intend to visit Mr Arrandale again today.’

  ‘My dear girl, you cannot be serious!’

  ‘Never more so,’ she replied, not looking up. ‘As Papa’s daughter I must help those in need.’

  ‘But you said yourself Mr Arrandale has funds enough to pay for his comforts; surely one visit to him is enough. Heavens, my love, you ransacked my library to find works he might enjoy. I will not say I begrudge him the books—after all they have been sitting on the shelves since Mr Graham died and I shall never read them—but surely there can be no need for you to go back again.’

  ‘If Papa were here it is what he would do.’ Grace felt the colour heating her cheeks as those disturbing doubts returned. Of course she did not want to see Wolf. Indeed, she would be far more comfortable if she could put him right out of her head, but how could she do that, when the shadow of the gallows hung over him?

  She said aloud, ‘My mind is made up, Aunt Eliza, I shall visit Mr Arrandale every day while he remains in prison. It is my Christian duty.’

  ‘Well, you are of age and I cannot stop you. Although what your fiancé will say I am sure I do not know.’

  Grace silently finished her breakfast. She would have to tell Loftus something of her activities in London and he might even decide to withdraw his offer of marriage. But that was for the future. For now, she could not abandon Wolf Arrandale, whatever it cost her.

  * * *

  Richard Arrandale was to see his brother every morning, so Grace timed her visit for later in the day. She took her maid, but Janet was reluctant to enter the prison and Grace left her in the carriage while she went in alone to see Wolf. She arrived to find Kennet with his master, playing backgammon. They both ros
e at her entry and although Wolf scowled and told her she should not have come, the glow in his eyes gave the lie. There was an awkward moment of silence. The valet coughed and muttered that perhaps he should go.

  ‘Yes—no,’ said Wolf. ‘What do you say, Miss Duncombe, would you prefer Kennet to stay?’ When she shook her head he waved a hand towards his man. ‘Come back in an hour. No, make it a little longer.’

  Wolf had not taken his eyes off her and Grace struggled to keep still under his scrutiny.

  I can do this, she told herself. It is no different from visiting any of Papa’s needy parishioners.

  When they were alone he said again, ‘You should not have come.’

  ‘My father always asks after you in his letters.’

  It was a poor enough excuse, but Wolf nodded.

  ‘Very well, then, Miss Duncombe. Will you not sit down?’

  * * *

  The days fell into a pattern. Grace was at her aunt’s disposal each morning, but every afternoon she made her way to Horsemonger Lane. Kennet was often in attendance, but as soon as Grace arrived he would excuse himself and leave them alone to talk. Grace had no fears for her safety, Wolf kept as much distance as possible between them during her visits. He might walk with the devil, but nothing could have exceeded his civility towards her.

  The guards grew accustomed to Grace’s visits and soon gave no more than a cursory glance at her basket filled with books and a few little delicacies to augment the meals Kennet brought in from the local tavern. She also included extra pastries for the guards, who fell upon them with relish and it earned her a smile and a cheerful word from the warders as they escorted her to the prisoner.

  Grace knew Richard was trying to build a case for his brother’s defence, but by tacit agreement she and Wolf never spoke of it. Instead they talked of unexceptional subjects such as books and art and the latest reports from the newspapers that Kennet brought for his master every day.