Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (30 page)

The viscount swallowed hard and began circling in the other direction. He tried a quick, oblique thrust, but met nothing but air. A growl of frustration escaped his lips. After another step to the side, he suddenly charged forward.

Wrexham spun away, but the movement caused his weak knee to buckle for a moment, leaving him vulnerable to another attack. The viscount turned and was about to slash at the earl's midsection when the tip of a parasol, its fabric a mass of flames, came hard across his shoulders. He gave a yelp of pain as he flailed with both arms to knock it away.

The earl slipped out of danger. "For God's sake, Allegra, get out of here!"

She picked up another parasol from the carved wooden stand next to her. "I'm not leaving you here alone."

Wrexham muttered something unintelligible, then his gaze shot back to the viscount. The younger man had recovered his equilibrium but appeared confused on what to do next.

"For just once, I would appreciate it if you would heed my wishes without argument," said the earl very deliberately. As he spoke to her, his boot lashed out and caught the viscount flush on the knee. The blow knocked the younger man to the floor and as he fell, the knife went skittering into the blackness.

"Max," called the earl. "Get Allegra and yourself out the front door NOW!"

His son finally managed to fight his way through the choking clouds to Allegra's side.

"I don't care what he says, I'm not leaving your father," warned Allegra in a low voice.

"Of course not," whispered Max. "You don't truly think I would abandon—"

The front door flung open. "Richard!" The voice was in a near panic. "The smoke is beginning to attract attention."

"I'm afraid your son is experiencing some difficulty in joining you, Sandhill."

"Wrexham?" cried the Marquess in disbelief. For a moment his silhouette was frozen against the night. Then he turned and fled without another word.

The viscount was back on his feet, his jaw slack with shock as he realized his father had abandoned him. He fell back a step as the earl advanced, then another and another. In another instant, he was in full flight, making for the open door.

"Family loyalty," muttered the earl in disgust.

A piece of burning debris fell from the ceiling, reminding Wrexham of his own priorities. Instead of pursuing the viscount, he turned back into the whirling smoke and quickly located Allegra and Max. With one hand firmly wrapped around each of their arms, he guided them—none too gently—out to safety.

The clear night air was a blessed relief and they struggled to clear their lungs of the noxious smoke and fumes.

When he had finally ceased coughing and wheezing, Max was the first to speak.

"Father, I can explain—"

"My lord, it is I who should—" said Allegra at nearly the same time.

Wrexham held up his hand for silence.

Both of them stopped speaking.

"Both of you obeying, and at the same time—I must be dreaming," quipped the earl. He slowly reached out his hand and touched the cut on his son's neck. "Are you all right?"

Max nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

He turned to Allegra. "And you?"

"Yes," she answered in a near whisper.

He pulled them both towards his chest. "I am sure I will hear an earful of explanations, but they can wait for the morning, if you don't mind."

"Leo!" Lord Bingham came racing down the street at a dead run and clattered to a halt in front of them. "Good Lord, are you unharmed?"

Wrexham looked from his own singed clothing to the sooty faces of his companions, then back to his friend.

"Well, it's about bloody time."

Chapter 14

It was still difficult to accept that the matter was finally over, thought Allegra as she sipped the last of her tea. Sandhill and his son had managed to elude the Bow Street Runners in the confusion set off by the fire. A small Dutch brig of dubious reputation had slipped its mooring near Isle of the Dog with the ebb tide and it was assumed that the two of them were safely on the Continent by now.

Perhaps it was just as well how things had turned out, she mused. Though they had avoided imprisonment, the two villains had been publically unmasked for the scoundrels they were—and Wrexham and his family had been spared the ordeal of a trial and the awkward questions that would surely have arisen. Lord Sandhill and Viscount Glenbury could never set foot in England again, and if the rumors on how badly dipped they were proved halfway true, she did not envy them their future life—it was all too probable that they would end up in some gaol in Brussels or Vienna, or dead in an alleyway. So a certain justice had prevailed because she refused to accept defeat. Of that she could take a measure of satisfaction. It was true that none of the stolen items had been recovered, but if she were perfectly honest with herself, she knew she had never really expected that they would be.

She would find a way to manage without the money the book would have brought.

A log crackled on the fire, bringing her out of her reverie. She fingered the letter that lay in her lap and turned to where Lady Alston was engrossed in a game of chess with Max.

"My cousin Lucy will be returning to London the day after tomorrow. Are you sure you do not mind if I trespass on your hospitality until then?"

"My dear Allegra, I would have you stay much longer than that—"

She shook her head resolutely. "No, the matter has been settled for some time. It is time for me to return to my cousin's until I have found another... position."

Max's jaw set at her words while Lady Alston's face clouded with a look of concern.

"Perhaps I will speak—"

Her words broke off as Wrexham came into the room.

"I told you, Mrs. Proctor, that you need not concern yourself with that." They had both left off using each other's given name. It no longer seemed appropriate. "My man of affairs has taken charge of finding... something suitable."

Allegra looked for a moment as if she would reply, then merely turned to stare into the fire.

"Lockwood has also located an excellent young man to return to Stormaway with us, Max," continued the earl with a heartiness that sounded a trifle forced. "In fact, I have just come from meeting with the fellow. He has recently come down from Oxford with the only the highest praise for his intellect. His interests match yours, particularly in languages and the classics. And he is no dull dog either—he is a bruising rider and crack shot." Wrexham paused as he regarded his son's stony face. "Would you care to meet with him this afternoon so you can make a final decision? I... I think you will like him," finished the earl rather lamely.

There was an uneasy silence in the room.

Allegra attempted to ease the tension. "Why, he sounds like... a great gun, Max," she said softly.

Max shot her an anguished look, then turned back to face his father. "I'm sure if you have decided he is suitable, it matters not a whit whether I like him or not," he said in a angry voice as he pushed his chair back from the card table. "Why pretend it does? You don't care at all about me or what I want! Hire whomever you bloody well please—it makes no difference at all!"

"Max..." began Wrexham.

But his son had already stormed from the room, slamming the door shut with a thunderous bang.

"He's merely overset at the moment. I'll speak with him..." said Allegra.

"You will not—it's not your affair!" exploded the earl.

Two spots of color colored her cheeks. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to interfere." Her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. "You are quite right, my lord. It's none of my business."

Wrexham took a deep breath. "What I meant was, Max must learn to deal with disappointment without always having you to turn to."

"Leo, perhaps you are being a bit harsh. After all—"

"I don't need your advice either, Olivia," he snapped. "I have managed to deal with my son up to now without interference, and I see no reason why I cannot continue to do so." He walked to the tea tray and made a show of selecting several cakes. "I will speak to him myself when—" His hand took up the silver teapot then set it down again with a thump. "The devil take it, Olivia, is it impossible for me to get a hot cup of tea in my own house?" he said irritably.

Lady Alston rose without a word and rang for a fresh pot.

Abandoning his untouched plate, the earl stalked towards the closed door. "Have it sent to my study. I have a number of letters I wish to finish this afternoon."

* * *

Allegra finished penning her own note to her cousin. She lingered, however, at the graceful mahogany writing desk, her gaze taking in the rich colors of the Oriental rug, the opulent silk of the drapes and the elegant details of the sitting room for perhaps one last time. With a sudden lurch in her stomach, she realized how much she would miss it all—not the comfort and luxuries provided by the earl's fortune but the Sloane family. Max, Lady Alston...

A brusque knock came at the door.

She turned and a look of surprise crossed her features as Wrexham stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"May I have a word with you in private, Mrs. Proctor?"

"But of course, my lord. Is Max—"

"It has nothing to do with Max."

She waited for him to go on.

He walked over to one of the tall, mullioned windows and stared out into the walled garden for a moment before speaking again. "Your father's book," he said abruptly. "What was it worth?"

Allegra began to fiddle with the pen on the desk. "It hardly matters, sir. After all, we both know it will never be recovered."

"I have consulted with a dealer who is familiar with such things. It was French, a rare illuminated Book of Hours from the seventeenth century, I believe? He tells me such a book would fetch at least four thousand pounds." He cleared his throat. "I wish you to have the money. My banker has been instructed to deliver it to you at your convenience."

"It is a most generous offer, my lord, but I can on no account accept it."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because it is not right. A female does not accept money from a gentleman unless... unless he has a family obligation, which you, despite our charade, do not. You are in no way responsible for me."

"Consider it a bonus for your excellent work with Max. Surely an employer may reward a job well done."

Allegra shook her head doggedly. "It is beyond all bounds of generosity. Besides, we already agreed that the expenses incurred here in Town would serve as any bonus."

Wrexham let out an exasperated oath. "To the devil with propriety! Accept it as a gift from a friend."

She found it impossible to meet his gaze. "I shall always think of you as... a friend, Lord Wrexham, but I simply cannot take your money."

He swore again under his breath. "Must you always be so obstinate? For someone with a modicum of intelligence you are remarkably mule-headed. Cannot you understand that I am offering you the independence you so desire?"

Allegra sprang to her feet. "Must you always be so arrogant and high handed?" she shot back. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps I do not wish to be beholden to you for my future? You think to order my life as you see fit, regardless of my feelings in the matter? Well, you may exercise an iron control over Max but you have no such power over me."

She could see that her precipitous words had wounded him deeply.

His face paled perceptibly and his shoulders went rigid. "I see," he said stiffly.

Allegra ached to reach out to him, to explain the jumble of emotions that had prompted her outburst. But her own mind seemed locked in a state of confusion, unable to give voice to her real feelings. It was hard enough to understood them herself! How could she begin to tell him the truth—that the thought of future without his company frightened her more than she cared to admit. She had so carefully schooled herself to need no one, and now.... The fact that he offered her money had only made the pain even sharper.

Her gaze fell away to the folded note on the writing desk, a stark reminder that she would soon be gone from Wrexham's life. A sound caught in her throat but she forced her features to remain impassive. It seemed nigh on impossible to express her whirling thoughts or to undo the hurt she had caused. So she kept her eyes averted and said nothing.