Page 15 of Second Chances (Intrepid Heroines #3)

Fourteen

I t 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 Dogs 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 publicly 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.

It was true that none of the items they had stolen were recovered, but if she were perfectly honest with herself, 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 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. “If you have decided that he is suitable, it matters not a whit whether I like him or not,” he said in an 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—” He picked 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 members of the 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 for 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 the 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.

When it became evident that Allegra was not going to break the pall of silence that had descended over them, Wrexham’s jaw clenched even tighter. “Forgive me for my unwelcome intrusion,” he said after a moment, his tone as icy as color of his eyes. “I?—”

His words were interrupted by the sudden entrance of his sister, who was in a state of obvious agitation.

“Oh Leo,” she cried, seemingly obvious to the tension in the room. “Thank goodness I have found you. I must leave for Alston Grange immediately!” She thrust a letter towards him. “I have just received news that Charles suffered an accident in Russia and has just arrived at Portsmouth. James could not leave his mission, but William has accompanied him and is taking him straight home. I must go to him!”

Wrexham took the letter and quickly scanned its contents. His face relaxed slightly. “It does not sound overly serious, Olivia. A broken leg is hardly a great source of concern with a lad like Chas. I’m sure you will find him chafing to be up and about when you arrive. Your biggest worry will be to keep him quiet for as long as the doctor would like.”

Lady Alston calmed down a bit at earl’s sensible words. “No doubt you are right,” she said with a sigh. “Still, I feel I must leave immediately.” She suddenly took notice of Allegra standing by the desk. “Oh my dear, I hope you will forgive me for flying away so abruptly. I am sorry to?—”

Allegra came forward and instinctively slipped her hands around Lady Alston’s. “Do not trouble yourself over it for a second. Of course you must go to your sons! I am sure that as His Lordship says, you will find Charles is well on the mend.”

Lady Alston gave her a grateful smile. “You must promise to pay a visit to the Grange in the near future. I should like very much for you to meet the rest of my family.”

Allegra murmured some noncommittal sound as Wrexham’s sister turned back to her brother. “Leo, will you see to the carriage while I have Clothilde pack a light valise?”

“Of course, Olivia. I’ll take care of everything.” He took her by the arm and started for the door. Lady Alston turned and said a last goodbye.

The earl said nothing.

* * *

Max pushed his rook over two squares on the chessboard.

Allegra’s brows rose slightly. “You are putting your own king into check, which isn’t allowed.”

“Oh. Sorry.” But rather than retrieve his errant move, the lad propped his chin in his hand and heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid I haven’t been paying much attention.”

“No, neither have I,” she admitted as she pushed the board away from them.

It was obvious that something was bothering him as he started to fidget in his chair. “I … I didn’t mean to act as I did with Father,” he finally blurted out. “I was, well, I was angry.”

She nodded sympathetically. “I know. We all sometimes say things we don’t really mean when we are upset.”

He tried to put on a brave face, but his words betrayed his uncertainty. “Maybe he is fed up with having to deal with me. I know I have been a sore trial of late. Maybe he means to send me home with the new tutor and stay here in Town, like many other of his acquaintances. I … I should not wish for that at all.”

“I’m sure that’s not going to happen,” she said quietly, though in truth, she was also concerned about the earl’s strange behavior. He had left the townhouse shortly after the departure of his sister and had not returned that night. It was now late the following afternoon and still he had not put in an appearance.

Max blinked several times. “Then why has he not come home, if he doesn’t mean to wash his hands of me?”

She couldn’t give him an answer.

A knock came at the library door and one of the footmen ushered in Lord Bingham.

“Good evening, I thought I might stop in and pay my respects.” His smile faded at the sight of their troubled expressions. “What’s wrong?” He glanced around the room. “Where is Leo?”

Max’s lip quivered slightly. “I had a terrible quarrel with him. I think he’s gone away.”

“Lord Wrexham left yesterday afternoon and he has not returned since,” explained Allegra.

Bingham’s brows drew together. “That is not at all like Leo.” He fixed her with a penetrating look.

“I’m afraid he and I also exchanged words,” she added in a low voice. “No doubt it is my presence he wishes to avoid, Max, not yours.”

“You don’t imagine anything has … happened to him?” asked Max hesitantly.

Bingham shook his head. “No, Max, I don’t think you have to worry on that account.” He gave a slight grimace. “Let me see what I can do to, er, locate him. I imagine I may have a few notions as to where he might be.” Under his breath he couldn’t help but add, “And perhaps I will manage to knock some sense into him as well.”

* * *

With a muttered oath, Bingham stepped down from his carriage. A visit to White’s had directed him to one of the more reputable gambling establishments, which in turn had led him here.

The heavy oak door opened slowly in response to the rap of his fist. A 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 gravelly 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. “Alf would box me ears if I didn’t. Ye know he runs a very discerning gaming place and is very particular as to who he admits.”

“Why, Lord Bingham,” came rough-cut voice from behind him. “What a pleasant surprise. I don’t believe we have been favored with your company for some time.” A tall barrel-chested man with fists as large as hamhocks gave a welcoming bow. “What game to do favor tonight, milord? Faro? Vingt-Un?

“Actually, I am looking just for a friend, Alf. Is Lord Wrexham here.”

Alf rolled his eyes. “Yes, and alas, he’s not emptying his purse at my gaming tables.. “He is upstairs at the moment.” A pause. “Drinking himself into a stupor.”

A clatter on the stairs caused him to wince.

“I do hope he doesn’t break his neck in my establishment. That wouldn’t be good for business.

Bingham turned quickly and reached 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. His cravat hung in disarray over his wrinkled shirtfront and the state of his tailored coat would have caused his valet to swoon.

“Come, 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 brandy.

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 had begun to wear off, he felt only the same knifing doubt that had driven him to such desperate behavior. The spirits 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 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 was one—or was it two—gaming hells. Can’t remember, “Yet I seem to have no trouble recalling a kiss from one of the buxom barmaids.” A sigh. “Ah, but then, you have no desire to know how pleasant the experience can?—”

Allegra’s face turned a deathly shade of pale. “Believe me, sir, I hardly need you to remind me that no man would ever find a woman like me—a dowdy Bluestocking—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 are capable of seeing to yourself. Good night, milord—and goodbye. 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 for 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.

Allegra knew it was best to put all thoughts of him out of her mind. But her heart gave a lurch as she realized how much she would miss the comfortable feeling of belonging to a family, 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 anyone noticing.

* * *

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 came 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 across his face.

“I … I hadn’t realized you were here, milord. Forgive me for disturbing you,” she stammered. “But my book—I didn’t 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, he saw her hands were trembling

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, sir,” she interrupted.

Another few steps brought him close enough to place his hands on 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 him 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 …”

As she tried to slip by him, he pulled her into a hug. “I shall make sure that you don’t cease to think of me,” he murmured huskily. “For I hope that you will never 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 per chance interested in the position?”

“But … you do not wish to remarry! You have made that more than clear.”

“Have I?” he whispered, then let his lips trace 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 pinched with uncertainty. “But perhaps it is you who does not wish to legshackled again. I can only promise you that the experience would be quite … different.”

Their eyes met—and in the next instant her arms wrapped him in a fierce embrace, and her fingers were threading through his long locks. “Oh, Leo.”

To his elation, it was she who initiated the long, intimate embrace.

“Is that a yes, my love?” inquired Wrexham with a tender smile as he leaned back.

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 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 from her cheek and then reached out to caress Max’s cheek. “I hope you won’t 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.”