The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales) (11 page)

No, she thought sleepily. Those were memories to be locked away, along with childish dreams of adventure and knights in armour.

* * *

‘Mrs Graham, welcome. How good of you to support our little ball.’

Grace stood by silently as her aunt returned their hostess’s greeting. Lady Hathersedge was a cheerful lady with a determined gleam in her eye that said she would be asking for large donations of funds from her guests before the end of the evening. When Grace was presented she felt obliged to explain that her father was a mere country parson.

‘Indeed?’ Grace could almost see Lady Hathersedge writing her off. ‘It is a pleasure to have you with us, Miss Duncombe.’

‘Goodness,’ murmured Grace, as she accompanied her aunt into the drawing room. ‘I feared for a moment I might be turned out of doors when she realised I am as poor as the proverbial church mouse.’

‘Not at the price we paid for the tickets,’ muttered Aunt Eliza behind her fluttering fan.

‘
You
paid, Aunt. I feel quite guilty about asking you to spend so much.’

‘Nonsense, what else were we going to do this evening? No, I am delighted to be helping you and Mr—our friend,’ she corrected quickly. ‘Now, if you will point out Mrs Payne to me, I will do the rest. Heavens, but it is a crush in here. Thank goodness you are so tall, my love, you should be able to spot our quarry if she is here.’

Grace laughed, in no way offended by this frank reference to her height. She was accustomed to being the tallest person in the room.

That is why you are so attracted to Wolfgang Arrandale
.

Grace gave her head a little shake. It was unworthy of Papa’s daughter to like a person for their physical attributes such as their height, or the width of their shoulders. One should like a person because of their character, because of their kindness and goodness, not because they made one feel dainty and petite. And alive.

‘Mrs Payne is over there.’ She touched her aunt’s arm, forcing her thoughts back to the present. ‘The lady in the black bombazine.’

‘Ah, yes, I see her. And I am slightly acquainted with the lady beside her, so that will give me an introduction. You had best let me deal with this alone, my love. Off you go and enjoy yourself.’

With that she sailed away to confront Mrs Payne, leaving Grace slightly bemused. How was one to enjoy oneself in a room full of strangers? The orchestra were striking up for the first of the country dances, but one could not dance without a partner.

However, Grace had not been her father’s hostess for years without learning a degree of self-sufficiency. She watched the first dance and when the music began again she made her way slowly around the room, smiling vaguely whenever anyone looked her way. The reception rooms were very grand and had a number of smaller apartments leading off, the largest of which was set out in readiness for supper. Grace had made a full circuit when a flurry of activity near the main entrance doors attracted her attention. She was close enough to hear a stentorian voice announce, ‘Mr John Peregrine!’

Her heart leapt to her mouth when she recognised the tall figure in the doorway, but it was with fear rather than any warmer emotion. He was so tall, so distinctive, his dark hair curling over the collar of his black coat and providing a stark contrast to the snow-white shirt and neckcloth. She glanced around, wondering why no one was staring at him, surely they would recognise Arrandale of Arrandale, even after ten years? But to her relief the music was starting again and everyone was bustling and pushing towards the dance floor. A nervous laugh shook her. What effrontery, to stand there for all the world to look at him while he lifted his quizzing glass and cast an arrogant and slightly weary eye over the assembly.

He should not be here, courting danger so brazenly. The quizzing glass stopped at Grace and as he moved towards her she lost all desire to laugh. Her nerves were on edge and she was afraid she might do or say something to betray him.

‘Mr Peregrine.’ She held out her hand.

‘Miss Duncombe. I thought I might find you here.’

‘What are you doing here?’ She hid her words behind a smile as he bowed over her fingers. ‘What if you are recognised?’

‘In this company? There is little chance of it. My family is not renowned for supporting good causes. Although in the past we might well have added a few foundlings to the hospital.’

His eyes glinted with wicked humour and she felt the tingle of excitement running through her. It was quite reprehensible.

‘Pray do not try to shock me,’ she retorted in a low, angry under-voice. ‘I cannot believe you would put yourself in such danger.’

‘I am flattered by your concern. Where is your aunt?’

‘Over there, by the window. Talking to Mrs Payne.’

‘Ah, yes, I see.’ When she tried to pull away his grip tightened on her fingers. ‘Are you as friendless here as I am? Perhaps you would like to dance.’

‘And attract even more attention? No, I thank you!’

‘Then we shall take a stroll about the room.’ He placed her hand on his arm. ‘I shall keep you company until your aunt is free.’

‘I wish you would not,’ she said, unable to hide the note of desperation in her tone.

‘Very well, if you prefer, I shall take you in to supper.’

She gave a little sigh of exasperation. ‘I cannot think it is safe for you to be here at all.’

‘Miss Duncombe, after so many years, do you think anyone will—’

‘Hush,’ she hissed at him. ‘Our host is bearing down upon us.’

‘Ah, Mr Peregrine! Forgive my not being at the door to greet you.’ Lord Hathersedge bowed and introduced himself. Almost without pausing he said, beaming at them both, ‘So you have met Miss Duncombe? Capital! Perhaps you are acquainted with her aunt, too? Mrs Graham is one of our most generous supporters.’

‘I do indeed know her, my lord.’ Wolf inclined his head, wondering if the twenty guineas in his pocket would be enough to make the fellow go away. He wanted to talk to Grace. She was the reason he had come here this evening. He wanted to see her in her finery. And by heaven she did look fine, her blonde hair sprinkled with tiny pearls and an apricot silk gown that somehow gave her clear skin a golden sheen, as if she had been kissed by the sun. She took his breath away.

‘My lady tells me you are new in town, sir.’ Their host had planted himself before them, barring their way. Wolf could see he was determined to say his piece before he allowed them to escape. ‘Perhaps you are not familiar with the sterling work of the Foundling Hospital.’

‘Oh, I am aware of it, my lord. My family have been great contributors over the years.’

Wolf heard Grace’s sudden intake of breath, felt her fingers pinch his arm. He wanted to be alone with her, to dance or drink wine. Perhaps he might even feed her peaches and cream and make her blush by telling her they could not bear comparison to her lovely complexion.

He said, ‘Believe me, my lord, first thing in the morning I shall instruct my bankers to send a hundred guineas to you.’

‘A hundred guineas!’

Wolf waved a languid hand. ‘Is that not enough? Let it be two hundred then. I feel sure you can put it to good use.’

* * *

I must be dreaming,
thought Grace.

This was not how people in her world behaved. She wanted to laugh out loud at Wolf’s cool assurance. Lord Hathersedge was staring at him, goggle-eyed, and Wolf put out his hand to gently move him to one side, murmuring apologetically that he wanted to take his partner in to supper. They had moved only a step when Grace noticed that their way was blocked again, this time by a gentleman in a blue coat and his fair-haired lady coming out of the supper room. What held Grace’s attention was their height. The gentleman was easily as tall as she was, the lady a little less, but they made a strikingly handsome pair and there was something familiar about the gentleman, the way he walked, the world-weary look about his eyes. The man stopped, a look of shock upon his face. At the same time she heard Wolf bite off a muttered exclamation.

To Grace everything was frozen, like a tableau. Wolf and the man were staring at one another while Lord Hathersedge stood beside them, a look of bemusement on his ruddy countenance. Then the gentleman in the blue coat put out his hand.

‘By heaven! Wol—’

Immediately Grace gave a little cry and lurched against Lord Hathersedge.

‘Oh, do forgive me, I feel a little faint.’

‘What? Oh, oh, my heavens!’ He patted Grace awkwardly on the shoulder as Wolf quickly put his arm about her and pulled her back against him, holding her close.

Grace sagged against his arm and gave a little moan. ‘Mr Peregrine, perhaps you could take me somewhere a little quieter...’

The fair-haired lady sprang forward, as if released from a spell.

‘Yes, yes, sir, let us do that. Lord Hathersedge, is there not a room where we may be quite private?’ She directed a look towards her host, who started, frowned, then nodded.

‘Yes, yes, of course. That door over there, madam, you will find it leads to a sitting room. It should be quite empty.’

‘Excellent.’ The lady moved beside Grace. ‘We will take her there immediately. Richard, my love, you will fetch a little wine, if you please, and bring it to us. Richard?’

From beneath her lashes Grace could see that the man was staring open-mouthed at Wolf. A little push from his lady made him start and he lounged away. Grace directed a wan smile at Lord Hathersedge.

‘I beg your pardon for being such a nuisance, my lord, but you can see I am in good hands now. You may safely leave me and return to your other guests. I know you have much to do.’

She was obliged to repeat her assurances before her host would leave her, but at last he allowed Wolf and the lady to bear Grace away from the ball room. They found the sitting room empty, candles glowing in the wall sconces and a good fire in the hearth. The lady released Grace and gave a little sigh of relief.

‘This is perfect,’ she said. ‘We shall be able to talk in here quite freely.’

It was only then that Grace realised how tightly Wolf was holding her. She put one hand against his chest. ‘Thank you, sir. I am very well now, I assure you.’ He was still pale and when he looked at her his eyes were oddly bright. She said gently, ‘The gentleman is your brother, is he not?’

‘Yes,’ said the lady, when Wolf remained silent. ‘He is Richard Arrandale, and I am his wife, Lady Phyllida.’ She chuckled. ‘I vow I have never seen two men so dumbfounded.’

‘Nor I,’ murmured Grace.

The door opened and Richard Arrandale came in, kicking the door closed behind him.

‘I thought we might all need to be revived,’ he said, nodding at the tray in his hands. It held a decanter and four glasses.

Lady Phyllida went across to take the tray from her husband, murmuring, ‘I will deal with this while you greet your brother in a more fitting manner.’

Grace eased herself free of Wolf’s arm and stepped away. For a moment the two men stared at each other before coming together and embracing silently. Lady Phyllida caught Grace’s eye and smiled.

* * *

Wolf cleared his throat. ‘By George, Brother, this is the last place I expected to find you. Atoning for past sins, Richard?’

They were sitting opposite one another, a glass in hand. Emotions were running high, and Wolf kept his tone light. Richard answered in the same vein.

‘It is my wife’s doing. I am a reformed character.’ He smiled and put out his hand to Lady Phyllida.

‘How long have you been in England, Mr Arrandale?’ she asked as she sat down beside her husband.

‘Pray, ma’am, call me Wolf,’ he said. ‘I have been in the country just over a month.’

‘A month!’ exclaimed Richard.

‘I want to prove my innocence. I wrote to you two days ago, but I sent the letter to Brookthorn Manor. By heaven, Richard, when I met Cassandra in Dieppe last autumn she said you had just become a father. I did not expect you to be jauntering to London so soon!’ He added awkwardly, ‘I should congratulate you.’

‘You should indeed. We have a healthy son, who I hope is sleeping peacefully in his crib in Mount Street. We had business in London and did not intend a long visit, but we did not wish to leave little James behind us.’ The soft look fled from Richard’s eyes and he frowned again. ‘You have been in England for
a month
, Wolf, and you did not think to inform me before yesterday? I don’t doubt it will be another week before your letter reaches us in Mount Street!’

‘I told no one, save Miss Duncombe’s father.’

‘And Miss Duncombe, apparently.’ Richard exhaled, as if reining in his temper. His blue eyes moved to Grace and a smile flickered. ‘Forgive me, ma’am. I am a little acquainted with your father, but you and I have never met before tonight. I have no doubt Mr Duncombe would prefer to keep you away from the infamous Arrandales.’

‘No, sir. It was his wish that we should help your brother prove his innocence, if we can.’

Wolf glanced up at Grace, who was standing beside his chair. She was on his side, supporting him. He felt a sudden tightening of his chest at the thought, but there was no time now to consider if it meant anything.

‘You recognised Richard?’ he asked her.

‘I did, sir. At the same moment your sister-in-law recognised you.’

‘And your quick thinking put us to shame, ladies,’ said Richard, smiling and raising his glass in salute.

‘I hope no one else made the connection,’ Grace murmured.

Richard shook his head. ‘I made a point of speaking to Hathersedge again when I fetched the wine. He was still congratulating himself for extracting such a generous pledge from Wolf. Two hundred guineas, Brother. Are you good for it?’

‘I am, but I pray you will not ask me where I acquired my funds.’

‘No. I shall ask you instead how you plan to clear your name.’

‘By finding out what happened to the Sawston diamonds. I feel sure they hold the key to my wife’s death.’

‘Talking of Florence, I saw her cousin last week,’ said Richard. ‘Sir Charles Urmston. He stopped me in St James’s Street and asked after you. Coincidence, do you think?’