Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02]

by Second Chances

  "I can explain, father!" cried Max, nearly jumping out of his chair. "It was not—"

  "Please, Max," interrupted Allegra. "I appreciate your desire to help, but your father is speaking to me." She turned to face the earl. "You are entirely justified in your anger, sir. I had no right to involve Max in such a dangerous undertaking—"

  "She had no choice! I blackmailed her."

  Wrexham's left eyebrow raised slightly.

  "I found the rope and pistol in her trunk and forced her to tell me the whole story," continued the lad. "Then I told her if she didn't let me help her, I would come and tell you everything."

  "Max," she repeated gently. "That is no excuse for my actions." Again she forced herself to face the earl. "I have no right to expect any quarter from you, my lord, but might I ask you not to inform the magistrate about who was responsible for tonight's activities. I shall pack my trunk immediately, and if you wish I shall take myself from your house without delay, though I would be grateful if I may wait until first light—"

  The lad couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Lord Sandhill is a bloody scoundrel! He stole a very valuable book from Mrs. Proctor's father and she needs to get it back so she can use the proceeds from its sale to set herself up as an independent lady," he exclaimed. "You have always told me that a gentleman should act honorably and that it is his duty to see that those less fortunate than him are protected from wrong. If you knew the truth, you wouldn't be angry with me!"

  "Your father isn't concerned with the details, Max. Nor should he be. And I hardly think he is in the mood to be regaled with a tale of my personal woes. It is very late and I think we all wish the night to be over."

  "But—"

  Allegra heaved an exasperated sigh. "Max, may I have a word in private with your father?"

  The lad's eyes darted from the earl's stern countenance to Allegra's rigid features.

  "Very well," he muttered. "But I shall wait right outside in case you should need me."

  Wrexham repressed a twitching at the corners of his mouth.

  As soon as Max had left the room, Allegra drew in a long breath. "Please, my lord, the fault is all mine in this affair. Max was only trying to do what he thought was right. If anyone is to be birched, it should be me."

  "I have never in my life birched Max, Mrs. Proctor. In my experience, any living creature treated in such a manner either learns to hate the person wielding the rod or becomes broken in spirit. Neither is a condition I would wish on my son." There was a slight pause. "Nor have I ever birched a female," he added. "Though in this instance I am sorely tempted." His eyes narrowed as he uttered under his breath, "I understand in certain circles it is considered quite... stimulating."

  Two spots of color came to her cheeks and her chin rose a fraction. "It is most ungentlemanly to mention such a thing, no matter how much I deserve your scorn," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

  The earl's lips compressed as he remembered that, however frayed his patience might be, he was still speaking to the daughter of respectable clergyman. "Your pardon," he muttered.

  His fingers began to drum on the polished surface of his desk.

  She expected another scathing set down to follow, but Wrexham remained silent for what seemed to be an inordinately long time. Instead, it was she who ventured to speak again.

  "As for not birching Max, let me say that you are an even better father than I had thought."

  He looked surprised. "You think me a good father?"

  "A most excellent one, my lord. You have taken the time and consideration to raise a son any gentleman would be proud of. I only hope you will not be too severe with him over his misplaced sense of chivalry. His intentions were all that are honorable. As I said, the lack of judgment was mine."

  With a harried sigh, Wrexham leaned back in his chair. "He's a good lad," he allowed. Unconsciously, his right leg stretched out towards the warmth of the fire. Allegra didn't miss the slight grimace that pulled at his mouth, and her brows drew together in concern.

  "I'm truly sorry. I've caused you to aggravate your leg."

  He started to change position. "No!" she cried. "Please, try to remain comfortable." Her voice was tinged with genuine concern.

  "It's nothing, really," he said, flexing it gingerly. "Must have twisted it when I landed."

  "It was quite a height," she said gravely.

  His lips twitched at the corners. "You need not remind me of how high it was, Mrs. Proctor," he said dryly. In fact, it took a concerted effort to retain a stern countenance at the recollection of his earlier predicament.

  She ducked her head to hide a smile of her own.

  "Well." His tone had softened somewhat. "I suppose I had better hear the whole of it, else Max will accuse me of being unjust."

  Allegra contemplated the toes of her boots. "I hardly think it necessary, sir. What difference could it possibly make? I acknowledge my wrong in involving Max and I shall explain to him that you are entirely in the right in turning me out. Besides," she added. "I have humiliated myself enough in your eyes tonight—I never intended to impose my personal problems on you."

  "Mrs. Proctor, let me be the judge of what I would like to hear. Since my recent actions—and those of my son—are deserving of transportation, at the very least, if the authorities got wind of them, I feel I have earned the right to know why."

  Allegra twisted uncomfortably in her seat and her fingers played with the worn buttons on her oversized coat.

  "Well?"

  It was with a visible effort that she forced herself to speak. "I... I am searching for a way to tell you without seeming overly melodramatic."

  At that the earl gave a bark of laughter. "Finding my son and a female disguised as a man scaling the walls of a lord's manor in the dead of night to break into a hidden safe is already the stuff of horrid novels, so you needn't worry about being melodramatic."

  She couldn't help but give a ghost of a smile. "Oh dear, I suppose it did appear rather gothic."

  "Quite." His eyes betrayed a flash of real humor. "Besides, I admit that my curiosity is now piqued."

  "Very well." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I suppose the story really began a little over a year ago. Lord Sandhill has a large estate in Kent, in the neighborhood of the rectory where my family lived, and in fact, my father owed his living to him. His lordship's son is—I shall be blunt—an unbridled, unprincipled young man whose propensity for reckless behavior is matched only by his father's amusement at what he views as harmless sowing of oats by his heir. In vain did my father try to counsel some temperance of behavior, only to be laughed at by both of them."

  "One day my younger brother tried to stop the viscount from... forcing himself upon one of the local girls. Robert was hardly older than Max, and never a sturdy lad, but he had spirit." There was a catch in her throat, then she went on. "Of course he was no match for the viscount. My brother was beaten within an inch of his life. He never really recovered from his injuries and some weeks later caught an inflammation of the lungs and died."

  Wrexham interrupted her. "One of the local girls?" he asked softly.

  Her face drained of color as she avoided his eyes. "Yes."

  "How did he dare touch you, the vicar's daughter, and a married woman as well?" The anger had disappeared from his voice.

  She sighed, surprised that the earl had been so perceptive. "I believe his words were to the effect that no one would care about an old hag who had already been... used before."

  The earl's lips compressed in a tight line. "Please, go on."

  "My father was broken with grief. Within a matter of months, he, too, passed away." Her hands were clenched so tightly together in her lap that the nails nearly drew blood.

  "What of the rest of your family? Your... husband?" As Wrexham spoke, he realized with a start that he knew nothing about the particulars of her marriage. She had never made mention of it.

  She blinked. "My mother died when Robert was
born and my husband had been gone for quite some time. There was no one else."

  The earl remained mute.

  "Forgive me if I seem to have digressed, but it has a bearing on what has taken place tonight. My father was hardly in his grave when I returned to the rectory to find all my belongings piled in the dust with Lord Sandhill's orders to take myself off by dusk—he ordered me to be off from my home of twenty eight years without so much as a day's notice."

  "There was just one thing. Lord Sandhill had always lusted after a particularly rare book that he knew to be in my father's possession. It had been passed down through his family for generations and naturally my father refused to part with it, no matter the price he was offered. Does it surprise you when I say the book was nowhere to be found among my things?" Allegra finally raised her eyes to meet Wrexham's, a look of defiance turning their color a hard malachite. "I vowed then and there to get back what was rightfully mine. I went to live with a widowed cousin of mine in London and tried to figure out how to gain entry to Sandhill's townhouse. Before I could make any headway, I learned he had taken himself off to his estate in Yorkshire for the summer. I was at my wits end on how to proceed, other than languish in town for months, taking advantage of my cousin's generosity. Then I saw your ad for a tutor—or rather, Max's ad—and, well, you know the rest."

  The earl's jaw worked once or twice. "Hell's teeth," he muttered as he stared into the dying embers. An unreadable emotion flashed in his eyes.

  "I hope I might prevail on you to permit me one last favor, my lord—that is, assuming you will agree to not turning me over to the authorities," she ventured. "May I be permitted to have John Coachman convey my trunk to the inn? I can ill afford to lose what possessions I have with me."

  There was a long pause before he answered. "Go to bed, Mrs. Proctor," he said softly. "I shall expect to see you in the breakfast room at eight."

  "Thank you sir. I am well aware of how generous you are being." She made to rise, then started as she caught sight of the back of his hand. "Why, you're hurt!"

  He stared down at the ugly red furrow. "Oh, that." He had forgotten about pistol shot. "It's naught but a scratch."

  "Nonsense!" Without thinking, she reached for his hand and gently pushed back the cuff of his shirt. "It needs to be cleaned and bandaged, my lord."

  He began to protest but she cut him off.

  "Don't stir from that chair. I shall be back in a moment," she ordered in her best schoolroom manner, then hurried towards the door.

  Wrexham heaved a sigh and settled back in his chair, trying to put out of his head the vision of those long legs clad in skintight breeches.

  In a short time, Allegra returned with a basin of steaming water, a length of clean linen and some basilicum powder. Setting these down on the desk she fetched another branch of candles and moved her chair around next to his.

  "Sir, kindly remove your jacket."

  Wrexham shrugged out of the garment and let it drop to the carpet.

  Without further ado she rolled the sleeve of his shirt up to the elbow. Taking up a soft sponge from the hot water she began to clean the wound. The earl watched her slender fingers move deftly at the task. Their touch was firm, yet gossamer soft—a most pleasant sensation.

  His brows came together as he sought to banish the notion. "Don't think to turn me up sweet with your attention," he growled.

  She looked up at him with utter surprise. The slowly, as it dawned on her what he meant, a look of amusement spread over her face. To the earl's amazement she started to laugh.

  "Forgive me, my lord," she managed to sputter after a moment. "I can imagine you have no high opinion of me, but I would have hoped you had not thought me a complete imbecile." As his brows came together, she went on. "I've dragged your son into illegal activities, not to speak of putting him at risk of bodily harm. You have had to ride neck and leather, scale manor walls, engage in fisticuffs with a rather large footman and be the target of gunshots. Really, I would have to be a candidate for Bedlam to think there is anything I might do to gain your good graces!"

  Wrexham couldn't still the twitch of his lips. "You forgot the book, Mrs. Proctor. Could you not have picked a less weighty tome? My ribs will no doubt bear the mark for some days."

  "I suppose I could have grabbed something less weighty than Shakespeare." Her eyes took on a decided twinkle. "But it seemed like a good omen—it was "All's Well That Ends Well.""

  At that, the earl gave a bark of laughter himself.

  She sprinkled some of the basilicum powder over the raw flesh and began to bind his hand with a strip of fresh linen. "Now that we have settled your suspicions, sir, let me also add that Max found your performance tonight quite admirable."

  Wrexham cocked one eyebrow. "Indeed?"

  "Yes, he said for an old dog, you acquitted yourself pretty well." She tucked the end of the linen snugly into place and rose from her chair. "I must say, I have to agree with him—you were most impressive, my lord, especially for a man of advanced years."

  "Good night, Mrs. Proctor," he replied, struggling to keep a straight face. He waited until the she had left before he permitted himself a chuckle.

  Then his face turned very grave.

  * * *

  Max speared another piece of bacon. "I won't allow him to turn you out. It isn't fair."

  "Your father has been more than reasonable about the matter, all things considered. I'll not have you kicking up a dust with him, Max, do you hear? You are not the only one willing to pay for the consequences of his actions. I knew there were risks involved and I feel I will have gotten off quite lightly if all your father does is turn me out without reference."

  His face took on a mulish expression but he didn't say anything further. Allegra took a sip of her tea and crumbled a bit a toast between her fingers. She had little appetite, despite knowing she should fortify herself for the arduous coach journey back to London—if not jail. Max had no such problem. He requested another helping of kippered herring, then turned his attention to the generous slice of sirloin on his plate. She was grateful that he appeared to be suffering no ill-effects from the blow to the head.

  The door to the breakfast room opened and the earl entered, dressed with his usual perfect correctness. Allegra did not miss, however, that he still moved with a slight limp. He took his seat at the head of the table without saying a word and motioned for the footman to fill his cup. A newspaper, lately arrived from London, lay folded by his plate and he began to peruse the pages as he drank his tea. A simple assortment of toast and preserves appeared from the kitchen and was placed before him.

  There was no sound but the clink of cutlery and the rustling of paper for what seemed like an age. Finally Max began to chafe under the strained silence. He cleared his throat loudly, but drew no response from his father. A stern look from Allegra quelled any further attempt to gain the earl's attention. The lad pulled a face , but contented himself with propping his chin on one hand and stabbing at the remains on his plate with the other.

  "Max, kindly remove your elbows from the table," came Wrexham's muffled voice from behind the paper.

  Max dropped his fork and straightened in his chair. "Sir, when—"

  The page turned with a decided snap, just as Allegra delivered a swift kick to Max's shin. "Let your father finish his breakfast in peace," she whispered when he turned to look at her in surprise..

  He pulled a face but ceased his squirming.

  "Wilkins, bring a fresh pot of tea, then you may leave us."

  Max restrained himself from speaking until the servant had departed. "Well, what have you decided?" he demanded. "I care naught for whatever punishment you wish to mete out to me, but it would be grossly unfair of you to turn Mrs. Proctor over to the magistrates—"

  "I have no intention of turning Mrs. Proctor over to the authorities," he answered. A ghost of a smile came to his lips. "Even if I did, I should have to include the both of us, and I, for one, do not enjoy long sea voy
ages." The earl laid his paper aside, the morning sun glinting off the bandage on his hand. "As for you, Mrs. Proctor has seen fit to explain the particulars behind last night's escapade. While I laud your sense of justice, however misplaced, you will have to learn to exercise better judgment in the future. We will discuss this more fully in private, but be assured you will have ample time to contemplate my advice as you help Willy and Jem muck out the stables for the next two weeks."

  "Yes, sir," mumbled Max. Then his head came up. "But—" His father's piercing gaze caused him to fall silent.

  The earl steepled his fingers and turned his eyes on Allegra. "The charges you have leveled at Lord Sandhill are of a most serious nature."

  "Yes, my lord, they are." Her voice was as level as his.

  Wrexham pursed his lips. When it was evident she had nothing further to add, he went on. "Despite your questionable behavior in some regards, I have no reason to doubt your story. I intend to make some inquiries of my own into the matter. As for your situation, you may remain here as Max's tutor—"

  "I knew you would—"

  The earl held up his hand. "Let me finish, Max. If I can be of some assistance in seeing that Mrs. Proctor's property is returned to its rightful owner I will do so, but it will be handled as I see fit. There will be no repeat of incidents such as occurred last night. Do both of you understand me clearly?"

  Both of them nodded solemnly.

  "Good. There is one other matter to settle. I have decided on making a trip to London shortly, and will allow you to come along, Max. Mrs. Proctor shall also accompany us, so that she may travel in a more comfortable manner than by the mail coach. But once in London, I shall engage a more suitable tutor to return with us."

  Max all but leaped out of his chair. "But I don't want another tutor, I want Mrs. Proctor to stay—"

  "Sit down, Max," said Allegra sharply. "Your father's offer is more than fair, and I ask that you cease cutting up his peace over it."

  Max fell back in his seat with an injured expression on his face, but he said no more.