‘I would rather not think of you at all, Mr Arrandale!’
He nodded and stepped away from the mare’s head. ‘Do not tarry, Miss Duncombe. It looks like rain.’
Grace trotted out of the yard, resisting the temptation to look back. One more day and she would not have to see Wolfgang Arrandale again. A few weeks in London with Aunt Eliza, then she would return and marry Loftus. Safe, dependable Loftus. The marriage settlements had been agreed: they would secure her future and that would be a great comfort to Papa.
It would be a comfort to her, too. It had to be. Her betrothal was a promise to marry and she had been raised to believe a promise was sacred.
* * *
Once they reached open ground, Grace set Bonnie galloping, but for once the exhilaration of flying over the moor did not banish everything else from her mind. If Wolfgang was innocent, as her father believed, then she prayed he would be able to prove it. But what then? Would he return to his old rakehell life, or would he marry and settle down at Arrandale? That would be an advantage for the parish and it was what her father wanted, so she should want it, too. After all, it could make no difference to her. She would be married to Loftus and living at Hindlesham.
As if conjured by her thoughts the manor house appeared ahead of her and she was momentarily daunted by the necessity of explaining her sudden departure to her fiancé. Grace sat a little straighter in the saddle. It must be done, there was no going back now.
* * *
Upon her return to the vicarage Grace ran upstairs to change before going in search of her father. She found him in his study with Wolfgang. They rose when she entered, her father exclaiming in some alarm, ‘My dear, never tell me you rode back from Hindlesham in this rain?’
‘I was obliged to do so, Papa, unless I wanted to remain at the manor all day.’ She smiled. ‘Do not fret, sir, Betty has taken my riding habit to dry it in the kitchen and apart from my hair still being a little wet, I am perfectly well, I assure you.’
‘Nevertheless, you should sit by the fire,’ said Wolfgang, vacating his chair for her.
‘Yes, you must,’ agreed her father. ‘I cannot have you catching a chill. How did you get on at the manor?’
Grace sank down gratefully and held her hands out to the flames.
‘Fortune favoured me,’ she said. ‘Loftus has gone to Cambridge and will not be back until late, so I spoke to his mother. I did not rush away, Papa, I was not so impolite. Miss Oswald, her companion, has returned from visiting her sister in Kent and we spent a pleasant hour conversing together.’
‘Oswald?’ Wolf looked up. ‘Dr Oswald’s daughter?’
‘Yes. She kept house for her father, but when he died several years ago she was left with very little to live on. Papa knew Mrs Braddenfield was seeking a companion and he suggested Claire for the post,’ Grace explained. ‘Miss Oswald virtually runs the manor and is sincerely attached to her employer. They deal extremely well together. Much better than I shall ever do!’
She ended with a rueful laugh, but her father did not notice.
‘There was some speculation that she and Sir Loftus would make a match of it when his wife died,’ he said. ‘But instead he turned his attention to Grace.’
‘Does she resent you?’ Wolf asked her.
‘I hope not. She is a sensible woman and we get on very well.’
‘I am glad,’ he said. ‘She could make life uncomfortable for you when you are married. I would not like to think of you being unhappy.’
Grace looked up quickly. The idea that he should care about her future was unsettling. She pushed herself out of the chair.
‘If you will excuse me, I had best go and pack.’
‘Would you not like to sit by the fire a little longer?’ asked her father. ‘Your hair is still damp.’
Grace shook her head. Much as she liked the warmth of the blazing fire she needed to be away from Wolfgang Arrandale. She needed to decide how best to deal with him and the confusing feelings he aroused in her.
* * *
Wolf noted that Grace was subdued at dinner, and as soon as the meal was over she announced that she was going out.
‘Must you?’ Mr Duncombe glanced towards the window. ‘Your hair is barely dry from this morning’s soaking.’
‘It is not raining very hard now, Papa, and there is a visit I must pay. Perhaps Mr Arrandale would escort me.’
The parson’s brows went up, but he was not nearly as surprised as Wolf. It was the last thing he expected, but he rose at once.
