Grace shook her head. ‘Not yet, but I feel sure we will have it very soon.’
‘How so?’ Wolf frowned, trying not to think how alluring Grace looked with that gentle smile and her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Mrs Graham gave a little tut. ‘Pray do not keep poor Mr Wolfgang in suspense, my love.’ She turned to him. ‘There is a ball tomorrow night to raise funds for the Foundling Hospital and since Mrs Payne is a patron, I feel sure she will attend. I had been disinclined to go. These affairs are always the same, no matter how many donations one has made in the past one feels obliged to pledge more. However, it will be a perfect opportunity to talk to Mrs Payne, so I have purchased tickets for us to attend.’
‘How fortunate that you insisted I buy a new ball gown, Aunt!’
Grace’s light-hearted laugh caught Wolf off guard. It hit him like a wave, battering against him, breaking down the last of his defences. Something in her was calling to him, like a kindred spirit. A companion in adversity.
‘You are enjoying this,’ he said.
It was more of an accusation than a statement, but she merely lifted her shoulders and let them fall again.
‘I confess it is a little more exciting than the life I have been used to.’
He frowned. ‘I would not have you put yourself in danger.’
Again that merry laugh, clear and bright as a bell.
‘What danger can there be in attending a ball? Unless I trip and sprain my ankle.’
Dinner was announced and they said no more on the subject, but the change in Grace fascinated Wolf. A few weeks in her aunt’s house had transformed her. It was not merely that she had left off the soft greys she had worn at the vicarage and was dressed more fashionably, she looked more alive, her eyes sparkled, her generous mouth had an upward tilt, as if a laugh was never far away, and her light gold hair was piled loosely about her head with the odd little curl escaping to rest like a kiss upon her neck. He imagined that if he pulled just one pin from those heavy tresses they would cascade over her shoulders like a waterfall.
It was a beguiling image and it stayed with Wolf throughout dinner. Grace at her dressing table, dragging a brush through those golden locks. Grace undressed.
Grace undone.
His fork clattered on to the plate and he muttered an apology. He signalled to the hovering waiter that he might remove the dishes. Thank heaven there was only the dessert course to endure, then the ladies would retire and leave him in peace for a while. He was uneasy in polite society. He had forgotten how to behave.
* * *
Sitting in solitary state and enjoying brandy from Mrs Graham’s excellent cellar, Wolf calculated how long he would have to remain before he could leave without giving offence. Ten minutes, would do it, he thought. Long enough to thank his hostess for her hospitality. But when he returned to the drawing room he found himself wrapped in a cocoon of domestic comfort. The fire was blazing cheerfully, candles cast a golden glow over the room and the two ladies were at their ease, Mrs Graham flicking through a copy of theLadies’ Magazineand Grace with an embroidery frame in her hand.
Mrs Graham put aside her magazine to make him welcome. She ushered him to a chair by the fire, sat down opposite and proceeded to talk to him about Arrandale as she remembered it. Wolf answered her politely, but only half his mind was on the subject. From his seat he had a good view of Grace, who continued to set neat stitches in her embroidery, joining in very little with conversation. Even when her aunt left the room she did not look up from her work. He watched her in silence for a while.
‘The last time we met I said you had changed,’ he remarked. ‘Now you are different again.’
The needle hovered about the cloth.
‘My aunt is giving me what she calls a little town bronze.’
‘That is not it. You are more at ease in my company. Why is that?’ She began to ply her needle again, but Wolf could not let it go. ‘Do you, can I hope you no longer think me guilty?’
She bent her head even lower over her embroidery.
‘My father and aunt are convinced you are not guilty, so I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.’
She answered very quietly, but her words lifted a weight from Wolf’s shoulders. A weight he had not been conscious of until now. When had her opinion become so important to him? She picked up a pair of silver scissors to cut her thread, then began to pack away her sewing.
‘That is the only reason I am helping you to find Mrs Meesden.’
‘Admit it, you are enjoying yourself.’
‘There is a certain satisfaction in it.’ He saw the faint but unmistakable upward curve of her mouth. Her eyes lifted to his, but only for a moment. ‘It is part of my holiday, before I go home. To my fiancé.’
‘And will you tell Sir Loftus what you have been doing in London?’
She raised her head at that.
