* * *
Wolf woke up in near darkness, feeling parched and uncomfortable. He was wrapped in his black domino and lying on bare boards that ran the length of the cell, but they were several inches short of his height, so he was not able to stretch out. His ribs hurt, too; his captors had been none too gentle in their treatment of him. The only sources of light were the grille in the door and a hole in the ceiling, too high and small for a man to climb through, but within minutes of his waking he discovered it was large enough for the guards to pass down a flask of small beer and a crust of bread for him to break his fast. A short time later the door opened and a guard appeared, a black outline against lamplight from the corridor.
‘You have visitors. Upstairs.’
‘I am glad you do not expect me to receive them here.’
Wolf took time to fold his domino and put it on the boards before he accompanied his gaoler up the stone steps. Above ground the sun flooded in through the windows and he blinked uncomfortably in the light. His escort ushered him into a small panelled room, sparsely furnished with a square wooden table and four chairs, where he found his visitors waiting for him; his brother and a tall veiled lady that Wolf knew immediately was Grace. His spirits leapt, but plunged again when she lifted her veil. She looked so pale and drawn he guessed she had not slept and it was as much as he could do not to reach out for her. His frustration manifested itself in a scowl.
‘You should not have brought her here, Richard.’
It was Grace who replied, saying quietly, ‘I insisted upon it.’
Wolf’s scowl deepened. ‘You were at Vauxhall—can you doubt the evidence of your own eyes and believe me innocent?’
‘Your brother and I were watching more closely than the others. You did not stab that woman. Your past may be very dark, sir, but you are no murderer.’
He was shaken by his sense of relief. It flared like a torch, but he could not bring himself to admit to it. He responded gruffly.
‘I still say you should not be here. You should not be alone with any Arrandale!’
Richard scowled back at him. ‘You need not concern yourself with the propriety, Wolf, Phyllida accompanied us. She is waiting in the carriage.’
‘Trying to distance herself from her wicked brother-in-law,’ said Wolf bitterly.
‘No, she is trying to spare you embarrassment, you ungrateful cur!’
Wolf put up his hand, at last acknowledging his ill humour.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, Richard. I am grateful, truly.’
‘Aye, well,’ growled Richard, rubbing his nose. ‘It isn’t only that. She is in a delicate condition.’
‘Then I am obliged to her for coming even as far as the gates with you,’ exclaimed Wolf. He gripped his brother’s hand. ‘I felicitate you, Richard, and I am even more grateful that you should be here. But I am surprised. I expected to see my rascally lawyer.’
‘I sent word to Baylis to come as soon as he can,’ Richard replied shortly. ‘We have just had a most unsatisfactory interview with the magistrate.’
‘Gilbert Hatcham?’
‘Yes. He refused bail for you.’
‘He told me as much last night.’ Wolf glanced to check that the door was closed and that they were alone before inviting them to sit down. ‘How much did it cost you for this meeting?’
‘Enough. This may be a new model prison, but a few pieces of silver can still achieve a great deal. Although not your freedom, Brother.’
Wolf grunted. ‘Hatcham said he was expecting me. He had an old poster on his desk. Odd, do you not think, that he should have a ten-year-old notice so readily to hand?’
‘Damned suspicious,’ muttered Richard.
‘How are they treating you?’ asked Grace.
Wolf shied away from the concern in her voice.
‘As you would expect them to treat a murderer,’ he replied lightly. ‘They barely gave me time to wash the poor woman’s blood from my hands before they hustled me into a cell.’
He knew they must both have seen the dried blood on his clothes, although no one mentioned it.
Richard said, ‘You were lured to that meeting, Wolf.’
