Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (10 page)

The earl glowered at the two of them from across the wide expanse of his desk. His windblown raven locks and angled black brows only accentuated the color of his current mood.

"Perhaps you will kindly tell me what in the devil's name was going this evening." Wrexham's angry eyes were fixed on Allegra and his words were all the more ominous for the fact that his voice was barely above a whisper. "I agreed against my better judgment to hire you to supervise my son's education, and how is my trust repaid? It seems you have seen fit to add housebreaking and thievery—not to speak of perhaps murder—to his curriculum."

"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.""