Page 41 of The Outcast's Redemption
‘Not at all, Miss Duncombe, I understand that I have put you in a difficult situation.’ He turned back to Mrs Graham. ‘I will accept your hospitality for tonight, ma’am, but only for tonight.’
‘My dear sir—’
He cut off the widow’s protests with a shake of his head.
‘You are very kind, madam, but your brother has already put himself at considerable risk to help me. I must pursue my enquiries alone.’ He glanced at Grace, who was stifling a yawn. ‘I fear we have exhausted Miss Duncombe. We have been travelling since dawn, you see.’
As he had hoped, Mrs Graham was immediately distracted.
‘Oh, of course. Poor Grace, you have scarcely eaten a crumb. You must be ready for your bed. I will take you up immediately and send Robert to show our guest to his room.’
Wolf rose to bid the ladies goodnight and when they had left the room he sank wearily back in his chair. Mrs Graham’s unquestioning belief in his innocence had lifted his spirits, but now he felt exhausted and not just from the physical exertion of the journey. It had been a trial to maintain the polite, distant friendliness with Grace in front of their fellow passengers. Several times they had started a conversation, only to break off the moment it became interesting, aware that they were not alone. Which was a pity, because they had much in common, if only they could talk. He closed his eyes. The only time he had spoken freely was in the cab to Hans Place. For a moment he had let down his guard and given her a glimpse of his early life. He should not have done so, because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he did not want Grace Duncombe to pity him.
* * *
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 alittlesurprised 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 seegoodin 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!’
