Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (11 page)

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 voyages." 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.

She turned to the earl. "Thank you, sir. You are being most magnanimous."

Wrexham shifted in his seat, uncomfortably aware that his decision to dismiss her had nothing to do with the events of the previous night. "You have no need to thank me. I am merely doing what any gentleman would feel obligated to do," he growled.

A discreet knock came at the door. The earl's butler opened it halfway but before he could announce the reason for his presence, a heavyset figure of medium height shouldered past him, ignoring all pretenses at politeness.

"Excuse the interruption, Wrexham, but I thought I should warn you of the shocking event that took place last night. A band of thieves attempted to rob Westwood Manor! "

Not a muscle twitched in the earl's face. "Indeed?"

"Aye. Three big, brawny brutes by the account of Sandhill's servants. And vicious, too. Threatened to murder them all. The biggest one hit the head footman a wicked blow to the temple—"

Allegra coughed.

"—while the leader thrashed him to within an inch of his life when he tried to save the female servants from ravishment."

Wrexham's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Shocking," he murmured.

"Only the selfless bravery of the butler and the other footmen enabled them to finally fight the villains off. Naturally we are scouring the area for the thugs but you had best be on guard."

"My thanks, Tristley. I shall, but in all likelihood the criminals have thought better of attempting their dastardly deeds around here," replied the earl dryly. "I don't imagine they will be heard from again."

Squire Tristley scowled. "You're probably right—the cowards have probably fled, though I'd dearly love to get my hands on them. They'd soon be sorry they ever showed their ugly faces where I am magistrate."

"I have no doubt of that." Wrexham refilled his cup. "Would you care for some tea?"

"No, thank you for the offer but I'd best be on my way and warn Baron Knightley at Hillington. Pray, don't disturb yourself," he added hastily as the earl made to rise. "I can see myself out." He caught sight of the bandage on the earl's hand. "I trust you haven't suffered a serious injury, my lord?"

"Not at all," replied Wrexham smoothly. "You know how it is, I was doing something I shouldn't have been doing, but luckily the consequences were not greater. I should suffer no lasting ill-effects."

Tristley frowned in slight confusion. "Yes, one must have a care in the country. Well, good day to you, my lord."

As soon as Tristley was gone from the room, Max let out a burble of laughter. "Murderers, ravishers!"

"Max," warned Allegra in a low voice. "Let us drop the subject."

His eyes danced with mirth. "Far be it from me to argue with the biggest, toughest brute of them all."

Allegra put down her napkin. "I think it's time for your lessons, young man."

Wrexham picked up the paper to hide the glint of unholy amusement in his own eyes.

* * *

Allegra set her basket down and took a seat on the overgrown stone fence to rest for a moment. She was still trying to make sense of all that had happened. In retrospect, the whole plan to break into Westwood Manor had been a crazy scheme, with little chance of success. Only the earl's timely interference had saved things from becoming an unmitigated disaster. She was lucky not to be moldering in the county gaol, with the only prospect for the future a trip to the penal colonies of Australia.

Yes, she certainly owed the earl a debt of gratitude.

Of course there was no question that part of his actions stemmed from his desire to protect his son. Yet that didn't explain everything. He didn't have to let her remain in his household, and he certainly didn't have to offer to help her. That she had never expected—but then, there was a great deal about the Earl of Wrexham that surprised her.

He shrugged off his actions as being what any gentleman would consider doing his duty, but in her experience, most gentlemen seemed inclined to do aught but what suited their own whims. The earl, on the other hand, appeared to be that rare person with a true sense of integrity, of honor. She imagined that he would be a stalwart friend to those he cared for, just as she was sure he would also make a formidable foe. Somehow it had mattered more than she cared to admit that he had believed her tale. The idea of not measuring up in his eyes had been of more concern than any of the consequences he could mete out. Those had been more than fair, she admitted, all things considered.

Allegra shook her head slightly, as if as baffled by her own mixed feelings as well as the actions of his lordship. Why, she found that along with a growing respect for the man, she was actually beginning to... like him, despite her resolve to the contrary.

He was aloof to the point of arrogance, overbearing and had little regard for polite manners, she reminded herself. Suddenly, the image came to mind of the earl planting a facer to Lord Sandhill's burly footman and Allegra smiled in spite of herself. No one could question his physical prowess, she thought, as she pictured the way he had handled the situation with cool aplomb, carrying his son to safety and negotiating the tricky descent while under fire. Those broad shoulders and long, muscled legs had....

Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. That was quite far enough for her thoughts to stray. She could not deny that the Earl of Wrexham was what any female would consider a most attractive man, but that didn't interest her in the least. Men were more trouble than they were worth. The rewards simply didn't justify the sacrifices—in fact, in her experience, the rewards had proven to be... rather disappointing.

She gathered up her basket and surveyed the varied leaves and textures of the herbs and flowers. She had nearly everything she needed. It was only a matter of locating some St. John's wort, but the afternoon promised to remain a most pleasant one for a walk through the fields.

Later that evening, Allegra knocked softly on the library door.

"Come in," snapped Wrexham, his eyes not stirring from the book in his lap. "Confound it, Dunbar, could not whatever it is wait until—" He looked up at her in surprise.

"Pray, forgive me for intruding on you, my lord. I..." Suddenly she felt foolish and awkward. What had appeared in the light of day a reasonable idea now seemed patently ridiculous. If she could have retreated with a shred of dignity intact, she would have done so.

"Well?"

There was nothing for it but to go on. She placed a glass of liquid on the round table by the side of his armchair. Wrexham regarded the frothy green contents and wrinkled his nose slightly at the herbaceous odor.

"What in the name of heaven is that, Mrs. Proctor?"

"I... well, I spent a considerable time with an elderly woman in our parish who was known for her healing skills. She taught me quite alot about herbal remedies. This one is particularly good for pain and inflammation. I... thought it might be of some help for your knee."

The earl stared at her, then the glass.

"Max told me that you are loath to use laudanum because of its ill-effects over time," she continued in a hesitant voice. "This herbal tisane has no such drawbacks and is nearly as effective. I have given the recipe to Cook."

Still he said nothing.

Allegra gave a ghost of a smile. "You need not fear that nightshade is one of the ingredients."

That brought a smile to his lips as well. "Not trying to hasten me to an early demise? It would be most imaginative, and as I have said, you have no lack of imagination."