Page 3 of Second Chances (Intrepid Heroines #3)

Three

“A nd perhaps you would care to explain what you were doing snooping through my belongings,” replied Allegra calmly, though she was griping her book so tightly that her knuckles were about to crack.

Max had the grace to look embarrassed. “I didn’t exactly mean to be snooping through your trunk. I was having difficulty with a Latin word and remembered you had mentioned that you had a special dictionary. I knocked, then thought you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it for the afternoon. When it wasn’t on your desk, I opened your trunk without ever thinking …”

There was a catch in his voice. “I cannot believe that you are nought but a charlatan! I prevailed upon my father—much against his wishes, as you well know—to allow you to take up your position. I thought you were my friend, but if this how you mean to repay us—by … by planning to murder us in our beds and rob the house of its valuables!

“No!” she cried. “I promise you, Max, this has nothing to do with you or your family.”

His eyes betrayed how much he wanted to believe her, despite his grim countenance. “Well? I am listening.”

Allegra let out a sigh as she sat down on the bed beside him. “Would that you would simply take my word.” Her voice rose in question, but a dogged shake of his head made it clear he would not be fobbed off so easily.

“No, I didn’t really imagine you would,” she murmured. There was a long silence as she found herself wondering whether the earl would haul her before the local magistrate or show a semblance of mercy and merely cast her from the house with the warning to be gone from the area by nightfall. She gave an involuntary shudder. Could one be transported for simply thinking about committing a serious crime?

Then she chided herself for cowardice. It was no use lamenting the consequences of her actions. She had known full well the risks involved….

“Please, Mrs. Proctor. Tell me the truth.”

There was something so eloquent about his simple appeal that she found herself wavering in her resolve to keep her secret.

“Oh, Max.” Still, she hesitated. The she looked at his anxious face, raw with doubt, and made up her mind.

The tale took much longer than necessary, since he insisted on interrupting every few sentences.

“The sodding bastard,” he exclaimed, when she had finally come to the end.

“Max!”

“Sorry. Father says it—but only when he’s really, really angry,” he admitted.

She gave a tight smile as she wondered what epithet the earl would say in reference to her if he knew what Max now knew. “I’m still your tutor, and as such, I must ask that you moderate your language, young man.”

He grinned. “Very well. I shall keep a more careful rein on my tongue, But when are we going to begin?—”

“ We ?” she interrupted.

Max looked puzzled.

“ We ?” she repeated. “ We are not going to begin anything. You must have windmills in your head if you think for a moment that I’m going to let you get involved.”

“Of course I’m going to help you!” His eyes had a dangerous glint to them. “Do you think me such a craven fellow that I’d simply turn my back instead of helping to ensure that such an injustice doesn’t go unpunished?”

Allegra bit her lip. “Max,” she began patiently. “I told you the story to show that I trusted you. Now, you must trust me when I say there’s no way I can allow you to get mixed up in this affair. Why, only think of how your father would react if he knew…”

“I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him everything if you don’t let me help you.”

She stared at him, aghast. “Why, that’s blackmail, Max!”

He crossed his arms and stood firm.

“It’s … ungentlemanly!” she continued.

That, at least, brought a touch of color to his face. “Well, it’s for the Higher Good,” he countered.

She opened her mouth, and then closed again.

“Besides,” he went on, before she could speak. “You are going to need help if you really mean to carry this off. For instance, how will you ever learn when Lord Sandhill is going to be out for the evening? Or how do you think you will manage the wall surrounding the gardens without assistance?”

There was dead silence. Those were just the sort of questions she had been asking herself.

“You see!” he cried triumphantly when she didn’t answer.

“Max, this isn’t a game. It’s dangerous, and if you are caught …” She blanched. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Then we must see to it that we don’t get caught.”

She started to argue but he cut her off. “I’m not a child anymore, Mrs. Proctor. I can make up my own mind about what is right and wrong. Please. Let me help you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

He shook his head. “Actually, you don’t.”

She closed her eyes. “Why do I have the feeling that somehow I’m going to regret letting you talk me into this.”

Max couldn’t repress the gleam of adventure in his eyes. “You won’t, I promise you. Now, let’s see that drawing of the west wing.”

Allegra reluctantly opened her sketchbook “Heaven help me if your father ever learns of this.”

Max crooked a wan smile. “Heaven help us both.”

* * *

The day was perfect for curling up by a roaring fire. A cold, intermittent drizzle had been falling since first light and the sharp gusts blowing in off the moor seemed early harbingers of the coming autumn. Allegra set aside a bit of mending she was doing and decided to visit the kitchen for a cup of tea. There had been no lessons that morning, as Max had engaged to go shooting with his father, so she was accorded the rare pleasure of an entire day to herself. But already most of it was gone, taken up with the little tasks she had been putting off for an age. After a comfortable coze with Cook, there might still be time to browse through the earl’s splendid selection of books for a volume to borrow before the owner returned.

Allegra finished her steaming cup while listening to the litany of ailments that could plague a female of indeterminate years if certain draughts and powders were not consumed each day. Excusing herself with a smile and a promise to pay heed to such sage advice, she slipped through the pantry, relieved to have escaped without having to actually sample the noxious brews. A narrow corridor led back to the main wing and she was just turning the corner when a small back door opened and the earl and Max came in.

Mud encrusted their boots and drops of water clung to the thick wool of their hunting coats. A brace of grouse dangled over Max’s shoulder, eyed with a hungry intensity by the shaggy hound at his side. The raw weather had brought an edge of color to the cheeks of both father and son, and with his windblown locks tousled in boyish disarray, Allegra had to admit that the earl hardly appeared a gentleman in his dotage. In fact, he looked more like an older sibling than aging parent. He radiated the same youthful energy as Max, but there was also a vibrant masculinity about him not yet evident in his son.

They were unaware of her presence and a friendly bantering continued as the door fell closed.

“You young pup,” exclaimed Wrexham. He threw a playful cuff at Max’s head. “You think you could plant me a facer, do you? Not bloody likely!”

Max dodged the blow. “If I could spar with Gentleman Jackson for a bit, I bet I could put you on your tail!” he retorted. Then his voice turned wistful. “Couldn’t we visit London soon? You promised that when I was no longer a child—and look! I’m nearly as tall as you are!”

The top of Max’s head almost touched the earl’s nose. “A veritable giant,” he drawled, drawing a yelp of outrage from his son.

“You’re mocking me!” Max jabbed a punch at Wrexham’s shoulder and the two of them fell into a mock scuffle. Feathers began to fly as Sasha took advantage of the lad’s lapse of attention and began to snap wildly at the swinging birds.

Allegra stifled the urge to giggle.

The earl’s head came up abruptly and he caught sight of her. He straightened slowly, running his fingers through his damp locks and tugging his coat into some semblance of order.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Proctor,” he said with a slight inclination of his head.

Before she could answer, Max gave his father one last push from behind, ruining the earl’s efforts at formality. He stumbled forward, nearly catching his chin on a rack set up for drying wet outer garments. “Jackanape! Have a care or the old dog shall box your ears yet,” he exclaimed, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Father is being a bear! He won’t agree to take me to London,” complained Max “Tell him it would be—educational!”

Allegra couldn’t repress a smile. “Family discussions are best entered into by family members only. So, I am well out of this one.”

The twinkle in Wrexham’s eyes was even more pronounced. “A wise decision, Mrs. Proctor.”

“I could only come out in someone’s bad graces, no matter which side I should champion,” she pointed out.

“And whose good graces would you wish to keep?”

She regarded him coolly. “Really, milord, on that I think we both know there is very little choice.”

His lips twitched but before he could make a reply, Max spoke up again. “Well, there is another matter you might help us settle. Father and I have been arguing over a passage of The Aeneid for the entire walk home and I should like to know your opinion. We were just going to have tea in the library—perhaps you would care to join us?” There was a flash of challenge in his eyes as he glanced at his father, as if daring him to contradict the invitation.

“Max,” replied Allegra. “I hardly think your father wishes …”

“By all means, Mrs. Proctor, please join us.”

She could hardly refuse. Aside from being unspeakably rude to refuse a direct invitation from the earl, no matter how grudgingly extended, it would hurt the lad’s feelings. “I should be delighted, then,” she murmured.

The glint in Wrexham’s eyes told her he knew she would be anything but. “Excellent. We shall be down as soon as we have made ourselves presentable for company. Shall we say in twenty minutes?”

Max broke into a satisfied smile. “I’ll tell Cook, since I must drop our trophies in the kitchen.” He hoisted the birds for Allegra's benefit, drawing a baleful look of reproach from the hound. “Oh, come along, Sasha,” he added. “You shall have a special treat for your day’s work.”

Exactly twenty minutes later, the earl appeared in the library looking, once again, every inch the titled gentleman. Not a hair was out of place, not a wrinkle sullied the expensive navy merino wool of his perfectly tailored coat or buff pantaloons. But neither did he have the look of having fussed over his dress either, noted Allegra with reluctant approval. His cravat was knotted with a casual elegance and his shirtpoints were unfashionably low, bespeaking of comfort rather than foppishness. His waistcoat was an understated stripe with nary a fob or chain adorning its front. In fact the only glint of gold came from the heavy signet ring on his right hand. She couldn’t help but think that perhaps the earl’s natural grace had something to do with the fact that his athletic body needed little help from a tailor to show to advantage.

Lowering her gaze, Allegra smoothed out a crease in her own rather worn gown, uncomfortably aware of its outdated design and less than flattering style … until she quickly reminded herself that earl wasn’t about to take note of what a lowly employee was wearing.

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

However, as 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, he filched one of the morsels before the tray was on the table.

Wrexham cleared his throat with a cough and 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 stopped 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 side table 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 paled at his first words but she was surprised that 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, she looked away to flames dancing up from the logs in the hearth.

“Think nothing of it, milord. 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. 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 teacups, 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. Indeed, 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 just witnessed between the earl and his son made it clear that 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 the marquess has 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.

“No?” The earl chuckled. “I have to admit, I cried off. I have to say, I 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 chiding frown. “That was foolhardy. You must promise me that you will abide by my judgement 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?”

He scuffed at the Aubusson carpet with his boot …

“Max?”

“Oh, very well.” His face suddenly brightened. “Shall we ride near Westwood Manor tomorrow? I have a capital idea—Father purchased a brass spyglass for me 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.”

Allegra had to admit it was an excellent idea, one that would certainly help minimize the risks involved. Still, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that allowing Max to participate in such a dangerous venture was wrong on her part. However, 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 smiling as he contemplated the crackling 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 had come from a female—he wasn’t sure whether he felt shock or admiration.

He found himself pondering the conundrum. 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 very 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.

At that thought, Wrexham felt a twinge of guilt on recalling her words concerning 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?—

Pain. His brows drew 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 that 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 courtesy.

Wrexham 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. As he raised his hands to massage at his temples, he found himself wondering where she had acquired the notion that anyone with a title was a lout. Whatever the reason, he would 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 that he was making the right decision, Wrexham couldn’t shake the feeling that what 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 would 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 fat all funny, Max,” she muttered, but a smile did creep to her lips. “Ye gods, he would have a fit of apoplexy. He’s 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 breeches and boots. 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 entendre. “Well, he is your father,” she pointed out. “He’s only trying to look out for your best welfare.”

“Hmmph. You sound like you are defending him.”

She fastened the last of the buttons and tucked the errant wisps of hair back into the bun at the nape of her neck. Then, after straightening the tucks of her bodice, she reappeared with the breeches and linen shirt neatly folded and tucked under one arm. “It is not a matter of defending him, it’s that I cannot fault him for caring about what is best for you.”

Max pulled a face and said something unintelligible under his breath. But his thoughts quickly came back to the matter at hand. “How is it that you know how to climb a tree or scale a wall? All of the young ladies of my acquaintance would fall into a fit of vapors if required to perform anything more arduous than lifting a teacup. I mean, Miss Cranbrook and her younger sister nearly fainted when I suggested they join me in a raid on Farmer Wilmot’s orchard.”

“I am not a lady,” Allegra reminded him. “A fact for which I am eternally grateful,” she added in a low voice. “Ladies have a great many rules and constraints on their behavior. They are not encouraged—or even allowed—to indulge in such hoydenish ways. My childhood allowed a good deal more freedom, despite being the daughter of a vicar.” She smiled at the recollection. “The neighboring children of my age were mostly boys, so I learned to keep up if I wanted to be part of their adventures.” She smiled at the recollections. “I assure you, I filched my share of apples.”

Max grinned in answer but then his expression turned serious as he mulled over her words. “I hadn’t thought about it overly, but it doesn’t sound as if things are quite as fair for females.”

“Ah, welcome to the ways of the Polite World,” she said with a touch of asperity.

The lad looked slightly abashed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Allegra let out a heavy sigh. “That’s actually very perceptive of you. No, many things are not fair, as you will soon see when you make your first forays into Society. But you’ll be shielded from most of them by the fact that you are a male and have both title and wealth.”

Max’s brows knitted together. “I suppose it is understandable that you dislike anyone with wealth and privilege, but surely not all of the ton are unprincipled. I mean, Father is not like Lord Sandhill in the least.”

“No, but even your father is well used to getting what he wants. He brooks no opposition to his will.”

“He is not as unreasonable as you imagine,” said Max. “When I disagree, he is always willing to listen to me.”

Allegra regretted her earlier cynicism. The lad would learn of the real world soon enough.” Well, perhaps your father is different,” she conceded in order to put a period to the conversation.

But she doubted it, she added to herself.