Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02]

by Second Chances

  "I suppose," admitted Max. "But I don't want you to leave. You are... nice."

  It was a long time since anyone had said anything as touching as that. "Why, thank you, Max. I should be sorry to leave you as well. We shall just have to wait and see."

  The lad gave a reluctant sigh and bent back over his book.

  * * *

  Things were proceeding ever so slowly, thought Allegra as she walked along the narrow path. She hadn't realized how isolated the area was and how great the distances were. It had taken her all this time just to get her bearings and figure out the shortest routes. She would need a horse, however. That much had become clear.

  That shouldn't prove an insurmountable obstacle. She had been out riding with Max several times and was beginning to know her way around the stables. The earl's grooms kept the place in perfect order but she had noticed that there was little attention to keeping things under lock and key. It wouldn't be difficult to slip in one night after everyone had retired. Their sleeping quarters were far enough away from the stalls she needed that if she were very quiet....

  But she wasn't nearly at that stage of her plans yet. She glanced down at the sketchbook under her arm. It was only today that she had managed to get her first glimpse of Westwood Manor, and even that was from afar. She would need to have a much closer look.

  At least her charcoal and paper gave her a perfect excuse. Few people would pay any notice to an insignificant female engaged in filling her pad with ordinary landscapes and views of the stately houses. She didn't draw overly well, but that wasn't the point. At night she could study which approach was best and where the windows and doors were located.

  She tugged at the strings of the large, ugly bonnet that nearly obscured her features. It was deucedly uncomfortable during her long walks, but it made it unlikely that anyone would recognize her face.

  Yes, she thought with grim satisfaction, she had thought of everything.

  Her mind was so occupied she failed to notice that the earl had reined his mount to a halt and was watching as she scrambled over a tall stile. Smoothing her skirts down over her sturdy half boots she suddenly became aware of his presence. Though the unbecoming bonnet shaded most of her face, a hint of a frown peeked out from beneath the broad brim.

  Drat the man. She really preferred to avoid him as much as possible.

  "Oh—good afternoon, my lord." Her tone was as chilly as her expression.

  He inclined his head a fraction. "It appears you are partial to taking the country air."

  "Lessons are over for the day. I am following your wishes to make myself scarce."

  "I did not mean it literally, Mrs. Proctor," he replied dryly. "Do not feel that you must... wear yourself to the bone."

  Her lips repressed a smile. So the earl actually had a sense of humor. "I enjoy doing a bit of sketching," she said.

  Wrexham raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have expected you to indulge in such a frivolous pursuit."

  "It does not meet with your approval? Perhaps you consider it a pastime fit only for young females."

  The earl dismounted with an easy grace and fell in step beside her. There was a flash of amusement in his eyes at her last comment though he chose to ignore her challenge.

  "What you choose to do with your own time is your concern, Mrs. Proctor," he answered as he casually wrapped the reins of his dappled grey stallion around the long fingers of one hand. "My concern is with Max."

  Her eyes shot up to meet his. "Is something wrong?"

  "Not at all," he admitted. "Max has made great progress in his studies. He has responded well to your teaching."

  She looked at him warily. "I trust you do not mean to imply..."

  "No. I do not believe you are throwing your cap at my son."

  "I should hope not," she muttered. "Why, I'm almost old enough to be his mother."

  The earl regarded her face and the errant wisps of honey colored hair that curled around her ears. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

  "Max is a highly intelligent young man," she continued. "It has been a pleasure to work with such a good student." She hesitated for a moment. "He is also unfailingly polite, cheerful and courteous."

  "Unlike his father," murmured Wrexham.

  She opened her mouth as if to speak.

  "It does seem that his moods have improved considerably," he went on, without waiting for a reply from her. "At least he is no longer flying into the boughs every time I speak to him." He shook his head. "I know this is an awkward age for him, but I was beginning to think he couldn't abide my very presence."

  "You needn't worry on that account, my lord. Max thinks you are—how did he put it—a great gun."

  "He said that?" The earl's features softened perceptibly.

  "Indeed he did."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Proctor," he said after a moment. "You did not have to say so."

  She decided to change the subject. "I was wondering sir, have you made any progress in finding a new tutor for Max?"

  Wrexham walked on for a few paces before answering. "No. I have not." His eyes strayed to the scudding grey clouds moving in over the craggy hills. "It seems we are in for some rain shortly. I fear you had best come up with me if you are to avoid getting drenched."

  "That is not at all necessary. I don't mind a spot of rain."

  "Max would no doubt ring a peal over my head if you took a chill and were unable to preside over the schoolroom." Before she could argue any further, his hands came around her waist and lifted her effortlessly up across the saddle.

  He mounted as well and steadied her until she was settled into a more comfortable position in front of him. Her skirts fell in folds over his left knee and she was disconcertingly aware of the warmth radiating from his muscled thigh. To her further dismay, his arm circled her waist as he took up the reins in one hand.

  "Really, my lord! There is no need for you to trouble yourself..."

  His face was quite close to hers. The spicy, slightly exotic scent of bay rum and leather filled her senses as he replied. "Ulysses can carry both of us with ease."

  "Well, as long as he can find his way home," she murmured.

  He threw back his head and laughed. "I shall have a care that the Sirens do not lure us off course."

  In spite of herself, she smiled too. She had forgotten how refreshing it could be to have a lively conversation with someone whose sharp wits and obvious erudition matched her own. Most people didn't understand her pithy observations, or simply missed her meaning altogether. She had a feeling the Earl of Wrexham was a man who missed very little.

  She would definitely have to be on guard.

  But at present, all she could think about was the disturbing closeness of his arm circling her waist. The chiseled strength was evident, even through the fabric of his impeccably tailored riding coat. It wasn't as if she had never been this close to a man before. But somehow Harry hadn't been quite like this...

  "Do you ride?" inquired Wrexham as he spurred the stallion into an easy canter.

  "Yes," she replied, thankful for the prospect of a conversation to take her mind off of other thoughts. "I grew up in the country."

  "And where was that?"

  She bit her lip, ruing her hasty words. The earl was quick enough that he might put two and two together later on. "Not far from London," she said, hoping it would do, then quickly went on. "Max has kindly taken me out several times and showed me some of the local sights. I should like to explore more, that is, if it meets with your approval."

  He made no attempt to press her on her origins. "Please feel free to make use of the stables."

  Well, at least she had accomplished something useful.

  "You would be well advised to listen to my son's advice on what areas to avoid," he added. "There are some spots where the trail can be dangerous if one is not familiar with the terrain. Max knows them all—he is bang up to the mark as a rider."

  But not as bang up to the mark as his father, she could
n't help thinking. The earl displayed an natural grace in the saddle, his seat firm, his touch on the reins controlling the spirited stallion without any perceptible effort.

  A stretch of rocky ground caused the horse to change gait, throwing Allegra back against his broad chest.

  "Oh!" Her entire body stiffened as she tried to maintain some space between them.

  His arm tightened, drawing her even closer. "Don't worry, I shall not let you fall, Mrs. Proctor." His voice took on a touch of amusement. "You might try to relax a bit—despite what you might think, I don't actually bite."

  She was glad he could not see her face, for she reddened at the idea that her thoughts were so transparent.

  "I... I have no idea what you mean, sir," she countered.

  He merely gave a soft chuckle and urged his mount into a faster pace.

  * * *

  As they rode into the stableyard, a groom came out and Wrexham handed Allegra down. She made a show of smoothing out her gown and readjusting her bonnet in order to cover her unsettled emotions. The earl landed lightly beside her and brushed a bit of dust from his fitted buckskins. A drop of rain fell on the brim of his beaver hat.

  "Ah, you see, you have been spared an unpleasant walk." He gave a slight bow. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Proctor."

  Clutching her sketchbook to her chest, Allegra mumbled a suitable thanks and hurried towards the manor house.

  A glimmer of a smile played on Wrexham's lips as he tossed the reins to the groom. So, she wasn't made of iron. It was gratifying to know the woman's composure could be affected. He had felt that in their first meeting she had kept him off balance and had come out decidedly ahead.

  The second round he gave to himself.

  But he had to grant she had spirit, as well as intelligence. Most people in her position would be falling all over themselves to gain his good graces, while Mrs. Proctor made no attempt to curry his favor—in fact, she made no attempt to conceal her distaste for his presence. He supposed he had given her good reason to form such an opinion. His manners and his words had been less than civil, and yet he couldn't help feeling the reasons ran deeper than that. There was something about the new tutor he had yet to decipher.

  In any case, he found himself almost looking forward to the next bit of verbal sparring. She was certainly up to his weight in terms of quick wits, and there was no denying she had a dry sense of humor he wouldn't have expected in a female. In fact it had been rather stimulating to trade jabs with a person his equal. Not that he was bored with only Max for company, but things promised to become rather interesting at the Hall.

  A short while later, Wrexham settled into a armchair by the fire in his library and opened the newly arrived book from London on the latest agricultural methods of increasing crop yields. The rain pounding down against the mullioned windows of the library showed no sign of abating. It was going to remain nasty for the rest of the day, he thought with some smugness. The chit would have been half-drowned before she made it back to the Hall.

  Hardly a chit, he reminded himself. Just because her slender form and creamy complexion made her look as though she were barely out of the schoolroom—his mouth quirked as he recalled her own words about being old enough to be Max's mother. What fustian! That was certainly a gross exaggeration. After all, she was not quite of an age to wear a turban...

  His brows came together. Why the devil was he thinking about her? It was not as if she was a Diamond of the First Water. Her nose was little too strong, her cheekbones a little too sharp, her mouth a little too wide to be called beautiful. But it was a face of rare character. There was something in the depths of her smoky green eyes was intriguing. Or maybe it was just that he hadn't been around a female—any sort of female—for longer than he cared to remember. With a rueful grimace he forced his attention to the opening page of his book.

  Damnation. It had to be about sowing seeds.

  * * *

  Allegra slid from the saddle and followed Max to the top of the ridge. A deep gorge lay before them and water cascaded down the rocky falls, a blaze of white against the weathered stones. On the other side, rolling green hills, dotted with grazing sheep, climbed up towards the craggy, windblown moors, somber in their bleak hues of slate and granite.

  Max slanted a guarded glance towards her.

  "It's quite magnificent," said Allegra softly, drinking in the wild splendor of the vista.

  He seemed to let out his breath. "I thought you'd understand," he said, allowing himself a slight smile. "Lots of people find it forbidding, but I think it's quite beautiful."

  She nodded in agreement.

  "I sometimes come here alone with... a book of poetry." He dropped his head and kicked at a loose stone, as if suddenly aware that the admission might sink him in her esteem. "I daresay you think that's rather silly of me." It was worded more as a question.

  "Not at all, Max. In fact, I think it's rather wonderful."

  He gave a shy grin. "Actually, I picked it up from Father. He's the one who first showed me this spot and told me how he enjoyed the rhythms of verse matched with the rhythms of nature—the sound of the rivers, the rustling of the leaves... "

  "Your father sits in the wilds and reads poetry!" She couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice.

  Max's head tilted to one side. "I thought you approved."

  "I do, it's just that—I hadn't quite expected it of him, of all people."

  "You still think him a real dragon, don't you?"

  Allegra turned to gaze out towards the moor. A certain trust had developed between them and she did not want to jeopardize it by telling an untruth. "Max, it really is not important what I think of your father." After a fraction of a pause, a faint smile stole to her lips. "I assure you, it makes not a whit of difference to him what my opinion is."

  Max looked as if to say something further, then shrugged and let the subject drop. "Would you care to see the ruins of the old abbey? It's not far from here."

  "That sounds lovely."

  They walked back to the horses and retraced their way down the winding trail. As her mare followed behind Max's chestnut stallion, Allegra couldn't help but think on how the young viscount continued to surprise her. He had a sensitivity that was rare in any young person, but especially one brought up in a world of privilege and pampering. That he appreciated the raw magic of words and of untrammeled nature showed a real depth of perception, a maturity beyond his years. And despite having every need catered to, he was also remarkably unspoiled. Rather than take advantage of his position, he treated everyone on the vast estate—servants, grooms, tenants—as real people, not mere lackeys to do his bidding.

  She shook her head slightly. Perhaps the earl deserved more credit than she had been wont to accord him. There must be another side to him other than the ill-tempered, toplofty demeanor he displayed in her presence. After all, any man who read poetry....

  Max called out to her and pointed towards a cluster of weathered stone walls perched on a knoll overlooking a roaring river. Creeping vines and masses of ivy had twined themselves among much of the tumbled blocks and crumbled mortar, but parts of the nave still poked heavenward, taller than the majestic oak spreading its gnarled limbs over the mossy granite of the outer walls. It was a beautiful, if desolate sight, one to attract the imagination of a lad given to romantic notions. She made a mental note to add Byron to their list of classical poets and scientific works.

  Their mounts splashed through a shallow crossing and Max led the way up to the ruins. Leaving the horses to graze along the grassy perimeter, they climbed through the fallen slabs of granite until reaching the top of the west chapel, where a section of stone still stood high enough to afford a breathtaking vista of the countryside to the east. Max sat down, legs dangling over the mossy parapet and leaned back on his elbows, head thrown back to welcome the sudden appearance of the sun. Allegra joined him, and there was a companionable silence as they both seemed occupied with their own thoughts.

&nb
sp; "Thank you, Max," she said simply, after some time.

  He gave her an inquiring glance.

  "For sharing your special places with me," she explained. "And your confidences. I'm very honored."

  A faint blush began to color his face and she looked away quickly, pretending not to notice. Max recovered his tongue after a moment. "When you like someone, you want to share the things that you find special," he replied in a hesitant voice.

  "I know exactly what you mean." She shaded her eyes as she looked off into the distance. "I daresay there aren't many people for you to be friends with here."

  He shook his head. "When I was younger, I played with some of the children on the estate, but now they are busy with work, and, well, things change." His face screwed into a wry expression. "Besides, they aren't really interested in talking about the same things as I am."

  "What of the other estates in the area? Are there no people your own age?"

  "Most families are in residence only during the grouse season. And only Westwood Manor and Hillington are close by."

  Allegra squinted at a distant building framed by a large tract of beech and oak woods , its light stone gleaming in the scudding afternoon light against the canopy of dappled greens. "Which is that one there?" she asked, knowing full well the answer.

  "Westwood Manor."

  She felt a slight stab of guilt at turning the conversation to her own purpose, but she could not afford to pass up the chance to learn what she could. "Ah, I believe that is the place I saw on one of my walks. An impressive house, is it not? I attempted a few sketches, but my skill doesn't do it justice." She let a slight pause steal in. "I nearly lost my way back to the Hall, though. Is it really as far as it seems?"

  "There's a short cut through the woods. You go down past the lake and you'll see a trail running off to the right, past the gamekeeper's cottage. It's quite easy to follow."

  That was a very valuable piece of information.