There was one other establishment he could think of to try.
The heavy oak door opened slowly to the rap of the ornate brass knocker. A liveried doorman with the misshapen nose and flattened cheeks of a former pugilist regarded him for a moment through narrowed eyes, then stepped aside to admit him.
"Good evening, Lord Bingham," he said in a gravely voice, holding out his meaty hand to relieve the gentleman of his topcoat.
"It is heartening to see that I still pass your scrutiny, Collins," replied Bingham rather dryly.
The answering grin revealed several missing teeth. "Madame Rochette would box my ears if I didn't keep my eyes peeled, sir. You know she is very particular as to who she admits."
"Why, Lord Bingham," came a sultry voice from behind him. "What a pleasant surprise. I don't believe we have been favored with your company for some time." A tall woman dressed in an expensive gown of emerald silk came into the elegant entrance hall. Though well past her first youth, she was still strikingly attractive, even if the curves had become a bit more ample. She took his arm and led him towards a small drawing room done in rich shades of burgundy and gold.
"Actually, I am looking for a friend tonight—that is, I am looking for Lord Wrexham."
Madame Rochette's eyes twinkled. "Ah, Lord Wrexham. He is upstairs at the moment." Her eyes went to the ornate gilded clock on the mantel. "But I believe he will be down shortly. Are you sure you would not like to meet... another friend while you wait?"
His mouth twitched at the corners. "Your offer is quite tempting, but tonight I think I shall simply wait for Wrexham, if I might."
"But of course." She indicated an intimate seating arrangement near the crackling fire. "Let me ring for some champagne and we shall have a comfortable coze—you must fill me in on all the latest ondits."
They were enjoying yet another laugh over the foibles of Prinny and Maria Fitzherbert when the scuffling of unsteady feet drew their attention. Bingham rose and approached the curved staircase in time to catch Wrexham as he stumbled down the last few steps. A dark stubble covered the earl's cheeks and he reeked of brandy and the cloying scent of a strong perfume. His cravat hung in disarray over his wrinkled shirtfront and the state of his tailored coat would have caused his valet to swoon.
"Come on, Leo. It's time to go home."
Wrexham ran a hand through his tangled locks as he tried to focus his bleary eyes. "Don't want to go home," he mumbled, his voice slurred with alcohol.
Bingham took hold of his friend's shoulder and guided him towards the door. "Yes, you do. Max and Allegra are quite concerned about you."
The earl dug in his heels. "Not bloody likely! They both wish me to the devil, so take yourself off and leave me be."
Bingham didn't loosen his grip. With the assistance of Collins, he managed to get Wrexham into his greatcoat and down to the waiting carriage, despite a string of drunken protests.
Once settled against the squabs, the earl fell into a brooding sulk. Now that the effects of the brandy and carousing had begun to wear off, he felt only the same knifing doubt that had driven him to such desperate behavior. The spirits, the gambling, the willing partner in bed had only kept it at bay for a fleeting moment. How had he lost the regard of the two people who mattered most in his life? Was he really so pompous and selfish as his son and Allegra had implied?
He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine the bleakness of the days ahead. Instead he let his fears be washed away by a new wave of anger. Anger at Allegra for being so... maddeningly attractive. Anger at himself for letting his carefully constructed life be turned on its ear. Anger at his sister and his friend for seeing how vulnerable he had become. Even a bit of anger at Max for simply growing up.
Bingham watched the warring emotions on Wrexham's face with sympathy but knew there was little he could do to help, save remain tactfully silent.
The wheels of the carriage soon rolled to halt. "Come now, Leo, cry friends and let me see you to the door."
The earl brushed away his hand. "I can see to myself," he muttered, swaying slightly as he lurched towards the door.
There were limits to where even the closest of friends were allowed to trespass. With a resigned shrug, Bingham pulled back and let him go on alone. He signaled to the driver to take him home.
He had done all that he could.
Indeed, it was quite late. Wrexham didn't bother to knock for his butler, but after some fumbling managed to open the front door by himself. A single branch of candles illuminated the entrance hall. Dropping his overcoat in a heap, he took it up and made his way to the library, rather than upstairs, feeling the sudden need for just one more glass of brandy.
Allegra looked up from the book she was reading as he stumbled through the door, a grunt of pain on his lips as he clipped his bad knee on the polished oak. The beginning of an oath died away as the earl suddenly realized he was not alone.
"What are you doing here at this hour?" he demanded, trying to keep his words from slurring together.
"I was waiting for Lord Bingham to return with news of you. Max and I have been worried—" She took in Wrexham's disheveled state and drew in a sharp breath. "Are you all right, my lord? Where have you been?"
He steadied himself against the edge of a sidetable. "Where have I been?" he repeated slowly. The alcohol had fuzzed his reason. All he could dwell on was the painful fact that she found him odious in the extreme—well, he would give her ample reason. "Let me see," he continued. "First there was my club and quite a number of bottles of excellent brandy and port. Then there were two—or was it three—gaming hells. Can't remember, but as I seem to have quite a large amount of blunt in my pockets I must have won." He paused for a moment. "Yet I seem to have no trouble recalling the caresses of the lovely blonde in whose bed I have spent the last few hours. Ah, but I had forget you have no knowledge of how pleasant the experience can—"
Allegra's face turned a deathly shade of pale. "No, I do not. Nor does it seem likely that I ever shall." Her voice caught in her throat. "Believe me, sir, I hardly need you to remind me that no man would ever find the type of female I am the least bit attractive."
All the anger drained from Wrexham, replaced by an overwhelming sense of shame and remorse.
"Forgive my absurd notion that there might have been any cause for concern on your account. It is quite obvious you capable of seeing to yourself. Good night, my lord—and good bye. My cousin's carriage will come for me tomorrow morning, and then your life may finally return to normal."
As she rose and walked past him with a stiff dignity, he drew in a breath, but no words seemed adequate to express what he felt. The door closed quietly and his eyes fell shut for a moment. Then he limped over to one of armchairs and slumped against the rich brocade, burying his head in his hands.
* * *
Allegra threw over the covers and gave up any pretense of trying to sleep. She pulled on a wrapper over her nightrail and went to stand by the arched window. In the morning, she would be gone from here. Perhaps once she was away it would become easier to put the earl out of her thoughts.
She blinked back tears. All her carefully constructed plans seemed to have come askew. She had known there were risks involved when she had left for Yorkshire, but she hadn't realized that the biggest one was that she would lose her heart. She had thought herself safe from that ever happening.
Memories of the animated discussions, the heated arguments, the shared laughter came flooding back. She and Wrexham had come to a grudging respect of each other—and then, the unthinkable had happened. She wasn't sure quite how, but she had fallen deeply in love with him. It was clear he harbored no such tender feelings for her. Indeed, he had made it more than clear that nothing—save for Max—could touch his heart. He only offered her help in the same cool, detached manner as he would one of his tenants.
Yes, it was best to put all thoughts of him out of her mind. But lord, she would miss the comfortable feeling of belonging to a famil
y, of curling by the fire and reading aloud.... She realized with a start that she had left her book in the library. It was a slim leatherbound volume of Dante's poetry from the library at Stormaway that the earl had said she might keep.
It was the only reminder she would have of their time together.
She glanced out the window. It was not yet dawn. There was no reason she couldn't slip downstairs and retrieve it without causing any notice.
* * *
Wrexham hadn't moved. The candles had long since burned out and the logs had turned to ashes, leaving the room with a decided chill. He hardly noticed as it couldn't come close to matching the clenching cold he felt in the pit of his stomach.
What a mull he had made of things.
His head jerked up at a slight rustling sound near the door. He could barely make out faint shape of a figure moving towards the desk. A flint was struck and a single taper lit. To his amazement, it was Allegra who took up the candle and began to search the sofa until she located a small book among the plump cushions. Tucking it in the pocket of her wrapper she turned to leave.
A soft cry of surprise escaped her lips as the light fell on Wrexham's haggard face.
"I... I hadn't realized you were here, my lord. Forgive me for disturbing you but..." she stammered. "But my book. I did not want to lose my book."
Her hair was simply brushed back over her shoulders, but an errant curl or two fell over one cheek. As she pulled her wrapper tighter around her slender form, she betrayed a trembling hand.
Wrexham rose and took a step towards her.
She fell back towards the door.
"Allegra, wait," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Please."
She stopped.
"I know my conduct has been unforgivable but I wish to apologize—"
"There is no need, my lord," she interrupted.
Another few steps brought him close enough so that his hands could grasp her shoulders. "Yes, there is! I want you to know that I have behaved... like an ass because—"
He stopped to take a deep breath. It frightened him to go on. But it frightened even more not to.
"—because it hurt that you don't care for me."
"Don't care for you?" she repeated in an incredulous voice.
"I know you find me arrogant, high-handed—"
"Not to speak of compassionate, kind, principled and intelligent. Why, Leo Sloane, you are the most wonderful man in the world. I shall never cease to... think of you."
He stood frozen in disbelief for a moment. "I am..." Then as she tried to slip by him, he crushed her to his chest. "I shall make sure you do not cease to think of me," he murmured huskily. "For I never intend to let you stray far from my side."
She looked at him in confusion. "But I am no longer Max's tutor. And even if I was, he does not need one for much longer."
Wrexham brushed his lips against her forehead. "Max may not need a tutor, my love, but I am in need of a wife. Are you by chance interested in the position?"
The look in his eyes made her feel rather warm all over. "But... you do not wish to remarry! You have made that more than clear."
"Have I?" he whispered as his lips traced a path along the line of her jaw. "I have said any number of idiotic things during the time you have been here, but that has to be the most foolish one." His expression then became very grave. "But perhaps it is you who does not wish to legshackled again. I can only promise you that the experience would be quite... different." He kissed the base of her throat. "And so would the chances of having a child. I should like that very much, you know."
His mouth took possession of hers and it was some time before she could answer him.
"Leo." Her arms flew around his neck, her fingers threading through his long locks. "Oh, Leo." This time it was she who initiated the long, intimate embrace.
"Is that a yes, my love?" inquired Wrexham with a tender smile.
There was a decided twinkle in her eye. "Well, we have not yet negotiated the terms of the position, but I am sure we will come to mutually agreeable understanding. So, yes."
Without warning, the door suddenly flew open.
Max rushed in, then stopped short at the sight of them. "I heard strange noises and thought perhaps an intruder had...." The explanation faded into in mute astonishment, at the sight of Allegra and the earl wrapped in each other's arms. "Father!" he finally managed to exclaim. "What... what are you doing?"
"I am kissing Allegra."
"Well, yes, I can see that—but what I mean is.... " His voice trailed off as a new concern seemed to pop into his head. "I thought you told me it was wrong to... compromise a member of one's household."
"Ah, but Allegra is not in my employ any longer."
Max took a moment to digest that reasoning. "I also thought you said a gentleman could on no account be caught behind closed doors with an unattached female, else he should be forced—"
"That is quite right, but under the circumstances, I think we need not worry about the consequences of my actions."
The lad regarded his father's disheveled appearance and unshaven face with great interest. "Are you foxed?"
Wrexham laughed. "I am feeling quite intoxicated at the moment, but no, I am not foxed, Max. Oh, and by the way, in the future when I am behind a closed door with your future stepmother, you will kindly knock before entering." He paused. "On second thought, you will not knock. You will go away."
A delighted grin slowly spread over the lad's face as the import of his father's words dawned on him. "Allegra is not going to be leaving us?"
Wrexham smiled. "No, she most definitely is not."
The lad's face suddenly sobered. "Are you going to send me away?"
The earl looked utterly dumfounded. "Send you away? Why, whatever put such a maggoty notion in that head of yours?"
"Max was afraid that you had left because you were angry with him," said Allegra softly.
Max hung his head. "I know I have been a sore trial of late. Perhaps, like Mama, you don't wish to be bothered with me—"
"Come here, Max."
Max hesitated, his hands jammed in the pockets of his dressing gown.
His father released Allegra long enough to reach out and pull him close. "How could you ever think such a thing, you young jackanape? Surely you know that nothing could ever change how much I love you," he murmured. "Mayhap it is you who wish yourself free of such a heavy-handed father. I know I make mistakes, but—"
"No!" cried Max. He took a deep breath, trying manfully to control his emotions. "I... I love you too. All those terrible things I said—I didn't mean a word of it."
The earl only pulled him closer.
Allegra brushed a tear of happiness from her cheek. "I hope you shall not mind sharing your father with me."
Max gave her a big hug. "I shall not mind at all."
With one arm around each of them, Wrexham broke into a broad smile. "What a lucky old dog I am. Max, I think perhaps you should fetch a bottle of champagne and pour us all a glass. I propose a toast—a toast to second chances, which have brought me the most wonderful family any man could wish for."
His son hesitated for a moment, then added his own postscript to the earl's words. "And to any future additions to the Sloanes—I have always wished I had a brother or sister."
Allegra's face turned a most becoming shade of pink as Wrexham grinned.
"Indeed, I'll drink to that."
The End
Want more from Andrea Pickens?
Page forward for an excerpt from
THE STORYBOOK HERO
Lessons in Love
Book Three
Excerpt from
The Storybook Hero
Lessons in Love
Book Three
by
Andrea Pickens
Award-winning Author
THE STORYBOOK HERO
Awards & Accolades
RWA RITA Finalist
Regency Romance, 2002
"The Storyboo
k Hero is a real page turner... exciting adventure and an entertaining romance."
~The Romance Reader
"I am glad to see the hardships of the day haven't dulled your sharp claws, my tiger," said Alex. "The time you cease your cutting setdowns is the time I shall be truly worried that the strain has been too much."
Octavia leaned back against the tree and swirled the dregs of her cup. "I imagine my choice of words is the least of our worries. We are not in a terribly good position, are we, Sheffield?"
His amused expression quickly disappeared. "No, we are not." He added another branch to the fire and stared at the leaping flames. "We have only enough food for another day or two, our horses are nags and I doubt the children can endure too much exposure to the elements. And if it begins to snow in earnest...." He let his words trail off. After a moment he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to have involved you and Emma in this."
She essayed a tight smile. "What? And deprive Emma of matching the exploits of her favorite storybook heroine?"
That drew a low chuckle.
"And besides, the alternative was hardly more appealing. So don't rake yourself over the coals. You have handled things quite credibly up to now, and I'm sure you will find a way to bring us all through to safety."
Alex's jaw tightened. "You may find yourself sadly disappointed. I should warn you, not many people have any faith in my abilities."
"The only important opinion is your own, sir." She drew a deep breath. "Now, perhaps we should—"
He looked at her in some amazement. "You are truly remarkable, Miss Hadley. I know of no other female who could sit calmly in the middle of the wilds and discuss how to save her neck, with nary a sob or shriek of remonstrance."
"I am used to adversity. And if my neck is to be saved, I have long ago learned that I had better figure out how to do it. Sobs and shrieks are all very well for fine ladies, who can afford such delicate sensibilities. I cannot."
Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] Page 22
