Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (7 page)

Her hands brushed her own rather worn gown, and she was suddenly aware of its outdated design and less than flattering styling. Then her chin rose a fraction. As if it mattered how she appeared to the earl, she reminded herself!

Max clattered to a halt outside the door, made one last effort at smoothing his unruly locks, then entered with a studied air of nonchalance that drew a ghost of a smile from his father. Allegra noted with further approval that he had the sense to refrain from commenting on the lad's attempt to appear quite the adult.

A maid entered with a large tray bearing tea and an assortment of cakes. The sight of piping hot apple tartlets quickly melted Max's resolve to act like a lord. With a boyish grin, his hand shot out to filch one of the morsels before the tray was on the table.

Wrexham gave his son a pointed look as the lad polished off the last bite.

"Sorry," said Max with a sheepish look. "It's been a devilishly long time since breakfast."

"You had a successful hunt, then?" asked Allegra quickly, changing the subject before the earl could begin any lecture on manners.

"Oh, excellent!" he replied. "And I brought down more of the birds than Father."

"I must have forgotten to wear my spectacles," murmured Wrexham.

That brought a peal of laughter from Max. "Ha!"

The earl glanced at Allegra. "You are lucky not to have children, Mrs. Proctor, as they inevitably grow up to mock one's old age—" He cut off his words abruptly. "Max, perhaps you would pour a glass of sherry for Mrs. Proctor." As his son crossed the room to where the decanter sat on a sidetable near the earl's desk, Wrexham turned back to her. "That was unforgivably clumsy of me," he said quietly. "Please accept my apologies."

Allegra had gone ashen at his first words but she was surprised he seemed to have noticed. She was even more surprised when, on meeting his gaze, she saw only a genuine concern in his eyes. Confused, her head jerked towards the fire.

"Think nothing of it, my lord. After all, one's servants are not expected to have feelings, are they?" The sharpness of her tone sought to mask the fact that for the briefest of moments she was mortally afraid she might disgrace herself with a tear.

Wrexham's mouth compressed in an expression of consternation rather than anger.

Allegra took a deep breath, immediately regretting having revealed any hint of emotion to the earl. "Now it is my turn to say I'm sorry," she added quickly. "That was a churlish reply to you. Please, let us forget the entire matter."

Any further words were forestalled by the arrival of Max with the sherry.

"Thank you, Max." She accepted the glass, grateful that her hands betrayed no sign of her inner agitation.

The earl continued to regard her thoughtfully throughout the brief exchange with his son. Then he gestured for them to be seated. "Perhaps you would be kind enough to pour, Mrs. Proctor?" he asked politely.

By the time she had finished the mundane task of handing around the cups, Allegra had recovered her composure. And as Max lost no time in steering the conversation towards the disputed passage of Virgil, there was little opportunity to dwell on the incident. She gladly entered into an animated discussion involving the nuances of ancient Latin. She had little trepidation about exposing her intellect to scrutiny—it was her feelings she preferred to keep hidden away.

A short while later, as she refilled their cups and passed the plate of pastries, she found herself more perplexed than ever. It had nothing to do with the subject matter, though no definitive opinion had been reached as of yet. Rather, it concerned the earl himself. It didn't seem possible that a man who had shown himself to be ill-tempered, arrogant and high in the instep could also be so amusing, perceptive and quick-witted.

His relationship with Max also went against all that she knew of the
ton
. In her experience, they spent precious little time with their children. Why, most fathers were barely aware of any progeny, the mere existence of an heir being satisfaction enough that duty had been done. But the interplay she had witnessed that afternoon between the earl and his son made it clear that Lord Wrexham had spent a considerable portion of his life raising his son. Beneath the gruff discipline and dry sense of humor was a bond of real affection she had never expected.

Drat the man. She wanted to dislike him. It made things that much easier...

"...Mrs. Proctor?"

Her head snapped up.

Max grinned. "Mrs. Proctor woolgathers, too."

"So I see," drawled the earl.

To her dismay, Allegra felt her cheeks redden. She was certainly managing to make a complete cake of herself.

"I was asking whether you had enjoyed seeing a bit of the wilds of Yorkshire."

"Very much so," she answered. "Max has been an excellent guide."

"It is not to everyone's taste," observed the earl.

"I find great beauty in its ruggedness—"

"She especially likes the ridge," interrupted Max. "You know, where you like to go to read poetry."

To Allegra's secret delight, she thought she detected a spot of color on the earl's cheeks. He cleared his throat and took another swallow of tea.

"I also showed her some of the neighboring manors," continued Max.

She shot him a warning glance.

"Speaking of neighbors, was that Lord Sandhill I saw riding out towards Hingham the other day? He usually arrives to take up residence for a few months about now, doesn't he?"

Allegra restrained the urge to kick him.

Wrexham shrugged. "No doubt it was. I believe Squire Trenney mentioned he had invited the entire family for dinner next Tuesday. We are asked as well."

Max made a face. "Not me! Wild horses couldn't drag me to that," he muttered as he cast a triumphant look Allegra's way.

The earl chuckled. "No? I have to admit, I cried off. Can't imagine a more boring evening myself, what with Trenney prosing on about his various ailments and Sandhill exaggerating his consequence in London." He drained the last of his tea and stood up. "Now if you will excuse me, I have some estate matters to attend to before supper."

Allegra rose hastily.

"No please, Mrs. Proctor. I'm sure Max would be happy to enjoy your company for a while longer." He bowed slightly. "Perhaps we might continue our debate on Virgil at a later time—I don't believe we have come to any sort of agreement, have we?"

Noting the twinkle in his eye, she could hardly keep from smiling in return. Good lord, the man did have a sly sense of humor.

"No, sir, we have not."

"Ah well, as I said, perhaps later."

As soon as he had left the room, Allegra turned to Max with a stern countenance. "That was foolhardy. You must promise me that you will abide by my judgment and not take matters into your own hands again, else I will forced to abandon the whole thing."

"But we learned when Sandhill is to be absent from home!" he protested. "And Father didn't suspect a thing."

She shook her head doggedly. "If you think that much escapes your father's notice, you are sadly mistaken. Believe me, we cannot be too careful around him. Do I have your promise?"

His boot scuffed at the Aubusson carpet and it was only with great reluctance that he finally answered her. "Oh, very well." Then his face brightened considerably. "Shall we ride near Westwood Manor tomorrow? I have a capitol idea—Father bought me a brass spyglass on his last trip to London, so that I might observe the birds up on the moor. We can use it for studying the east wing of the Manor house and the approach to the library window."

She had to admit it was an excellent idea, one that would certainly help minimize the risks involved. Still, she could not shake the uneasy feeling that allowing Max to participate in such a dangerous venture was wrong on her part. She sighed as the lad waxed on about the particulars of the next day's reconnaissance. Short of trussing him in his bed on the appointed night, or throwing herself to the mercy of the earl, she had little choice but to proceed as planned.

Her jaw set as she reminded herself that the plan did not include getting caught.

* * *

Wrexham laid aside his copy of Virgil with a bark of laughter. The deerhound lifted one lazy lid in inquiry but his master merely shook his head and continued grinning into the fire. On re-reading the passage in question he could only marvel at the cleverness of her interpretation. It took both a keen mind and equally keen sense of the absurd to suggest such a shade of meaning. And to think that it came from a female—he wasn't sure whether he felt shock or admiration.

His head continued to wag. There was no question Mrs. Proctor was an intriguing individual. Her intellect was undeniable, but she also displayed a spirit and backbone he wouldn't have expected from one in her position. In fact, she was quite unlike any other female of his acquaintance. Now, if she arranged her hair in a less severe style, one that drew attention to those flashing green eyes, and dressed to accentuate that willowy form, she would be passably attractive....

He caught himself with a start. Well, at least it seemed she was true to her word and had no intention of luring his son into anything improper. He had been most careful to observe the interaction between the two of them and he had to admit that any changes in Max were all for the better. The lad was expanding the boundaries of his knowledge and powers of reasoning by leaps and bounds. And more than that, he seemed happier, less inclined to snap at the slightest provocation. A friendship had developed between them and given Max's isolated upbringing, he realized how important that was to the lad, no matter that the person was a female. So far, his son's feelings had not developed into anything more dangerous, so there appeared little reason to interfere.

Still, he was not convinced that the arrangement was the wisest decision he had made. Perhaps it was time to contemplate a trip to London. It had been an age since his last visit and there were any number of reasons to consult with his man of affairs. Then he could also take charge of interviewing a proper candidate for his son's tutor. Max would not be happy with the idea, but maybe the prospect of a sojourn to town would help assuage any anger. He would make a point of letting the lad help decide on Mrs. Proctor's replacement.

A twinge of guilt ran through him on recalling her words on the unfairness of being dismissed without having a chance to prove herself. He supposed this was even more unfair since she had shown herself to be an outstanding teacher. The truth was, she was going to be sacked merely because she was a female. It was an injustice, but life wasn't fair, was it? He was sorry to cause her hardship or pain—

His dark brows came together. How in the devil had he uttered such a callous remark about children at tea? Usually he never behaved in such a cow-handed manner, but the words had slipped out before he realized the import of what he was saying. He hadn't missed the spasm of pain that had flickered momentarily in her eyes or the draining of color from her face. He had hurt her with his casual comment.

Surely she couldn't think that he had meant to be cruel? As he mused over the question, his mouth twisted into a wry grimace. Why wouldn't she think he had set out to deliberately wound her? He had made his displeasure with her presence clear upon her arrival, and since then he had not exactly treated her with a good deal of courtesy.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Somehow it bothered him more than he cared to admit that she would think him capable of such shabby behavior. His fingers came up to rub at his temples and he found himself wondering where she had acquired the notion that anyone with a title was a lout. Well, there was nothing to do for it, except endeavor to be more civil for the rest of her short tenure. And of course he would see that she had excellent references and a generous severance.

Yet somehow, despite all the careful logic and undeniable reasons he was right, Wrexham couldn't shake the feeling that he was he was contemplating was less than admirable.

* * *

Max coiled the rope with a look of grim satisfaction. "You see, it really needs two people. I'm not sure you would be able to manage by yourself."

Allegra dusted off her hands on the seat of her breeches. "I don't deny that your help makes it easier. But I should have found a way. Now put the things back in the bag and let me change before anyone catches sight of us."

Max choked down a laugh as they walked away from the abbey ruins back towards where their horses were grazing. "Can you imagine Father's face if he saw you now?"

"That's not funny, Max," she muttered, but a smile did creep to her lips. "Good lord, he'd have a fit of apoplexy. He already accused me of trying to seduce..."

"He did
what
?"

"Oh, never mind," she replied, regretting her hasty words. "I think I've convinced him that I'm not trying to cast my lures at you. But he'd hardly approve of this." She gestured down at her long legs. She stepped behind a cluster of thick bushes and began changing back into her gown.

"How dare he interfere in my affairs," fumed Max as he waited, arms crossed, brows drawn together in unconscious imitation of the earl.

Allegra had to struggle to keep from laughing at the unwitting double entrendre. "Well, he is your father," she pointed out. "He's only trying to look out for your best welfare."