Free The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales) by Sarah Mallory Page B

responsibility I want, I assure you.’
    She tensed and he looked up to see Sir Loftus trotting out of the vicarage drive. He nodded at Wolf before turning to address Grace.
    ‘This is the second day in a row that I have missed you, my dear. If I were the suspicious sort I should think you were avoiding me.’
    She laughed and replied with perfect calm, ‘Now how can that be, sir, when I had no idea you were going to call today? I have been taking advantage of the fine weather to show our guest around the area.’
    ‘Indeed? And how much longer do you intend to remain in Arrandale, Mr Peregrine?’
    ‘Oh, I hardly know, a few days, a week.’
    Wolf waited for Braddenfield to ask him the nature of his business here, but Grace gave the man no chance. She reached across and put a hand on his arm.
    ‘It must be nearly dinner time, Loftus. Will you not stay and take pot luck with us? It will give me the opportunity to make amends for not being in when you called.’
    Wolf held his breath. The last thing he wanted was to spend the evening in the company of a Justice of the Peace. Not by the flicker of an eyelid did he show his relief when Braddenfield declined the invitation.
    ‘Another time, perhaps,’ he said, patting Grace’s hand. ‘My mother is expecting me.’
    ‘Of course.’ Smiling, Grace gathered up her reins. ‘Pray give her my regards.’
    ‘That was close,’ murmured Wolf, as they watched Sir Loftus ride away.
    ‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘I learned last night that his mother’s companion is visiting her family and I knew he would not leave his mama to dine alone. It was quite safe to invite him.’
    A laugh escaped Wolf. ‘By Gad, then it was very coolly done, ma’am.’
    Two spots of colour painted her cheeks.
    ‘It was very badly done,’ she retorted, kicking her horse on. ‘Do not think I take pleasure in deceiving an honest man!’
    * * *
    It was at times such as this that Grace regretted they only had the Truscotts at the vicarage to help them. She would have liked to hand her horse over to a groom and disappear to her room; instead she had to stable Bonnie herself. In normal circumstances she did not object, Truscott already worked very hard and she could not expect him to look after her mare as well as the old cob they kept to pull the gig.
    She had just finished rubbing down Bonnie when Wolfgang Arrandale came into the stable.
    ‘I have brought a bucket of water for your mare.’
    ‘Thank you, but there was no need,’ she told him coldly. ‘What have you done with Mr Styles’s bay?’
    ‘I have returned him and paid Styles handsomely for the loan of his horse.’
    ‘And now you are back to plague me.’
    ‘That is not my intention. I beg your pardon.’
    She sighed. ‘No, I beg yours , Mr Arrandale. You are my father’s guest and I have behaved very badly to you.’
    ‘That is understandable, if you think me a murderer.’
    ‘Papa believes you are innocent.’
    ‘But you do not, do you?
    She eased herself out of Bonnie’s stall only to find him blocking her way. She knew he would not move until she gave him an answer.
    ‘I do not know what to believe. You...’ She locked her fingers together. ‘You frighten me.’
    ‘I do not mean to.’
    He took her hands. His grasp was gentle, but it conveyed the strength of the man. Odd that she should find that so comforting.
    ‘Believe me, Miss Duncombe, I mean you no harm.’
    ‘No?’ She looked up at him. ‘But just your being here might harm us. Harbouring a criminal is an offence, I believe.’
    ‘Is that why you said nothing to Sir Loftus?’
    Was it? She didn’t know any more.
    He was still holding her hands and gazing down at her with no hint of laughter in his face. Her mouth dried. Suddenly everything seemed sharper, she was aware of the dust motes floating in the band of sunlight pouring in through the window, the soft noises from Bonnie as she munched the hay from the rack, the faint cries of a shepherd and his lad