Page 7 of Second Chances (Intrepid Heroines #3)

Six

A t breakfast the next morning, Max failed to inquire about the particulars of the morning lessons. Instead, he badgered her to be allowed to abandon the books for the day and hone his budding skills with the lockpicks.

“Perhaps we could try a different sort of lock, like that of the wine cellar.”

“Max! I beg of you, don’t let your father hear such talk?—”

The earl strolled into the breakfast room, aware that there wasn’t a trace of a limp to his step. “Too late, I’m afraid. I trust you keep your instruments under lock and key, Mrs. Proctor,” he said dryly. “I value my supply of French brandy and would take it greatly amiss if anything were to happen to it.”

Allegra hesitated, watching him move to his place at the head of the table before replying. “Come, you have to admit, sir, I’m not entirely to blame for this. I never intended to encourage Max to take up such a …”

“Hobby?” he suggested. Motioning for the footman to bring him some tea, he picked up the newspaper by his plate and began to read.

Allegra rose and withdrew something from the pocket of her gown. She marched over and placed the set of picks onto the earl’s plate. “You may return these to me when we reach London, along with my pistol,” she said in response to Wrexham’s startled expression. “I have no intention of fostering any more unacceptable behavior in your son, of that you may be sure.”

“I don’t believe I made any such accusation,” he replied, returning the packet to her. “I see no harm in Max expanding his education to include matters of a more practical nature. One never knows when such things may come in handy.” He fixed his son with a level gaze. “Naturally, I have your word that you will not take advantage of my trust and trespass where you know you should not be.”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

“Good.” The earl returned to his paper, quite satisfied with how he had handled the situation.

Yes, he thought to himself, it was doing the lad good to take an interest in things other than his studies. Already there was a new spark of enthusiasm about him that had been lacking until—well, until the new tutor had arrived.

Wrexham quickly pushed aside that disquieting thought. It was merely the frisson of adventure that had the lad’s eyes agleam. It would be the same in London, with new sights and new acquaintances at every turn. Just because he, too, had a new spring in his step was no reason to admit that life had been a touch flat until the arrival of Mrs. Proctor and her madcap schemes.

He frowned and turned the page with rather more force than necessary, causing Max and Allegra to exchange puzzled glances. The notion of a new spring in his step made him uncomfortably aware of the debt of gratitude he owed her. For the first time in an age he had slept soundly, and this morning his knee was indeed less stiff and painful. And how was he going to repay her?

By sacking her from a position for which she was eminently qualified? Remembering her remark on prejudiced minds only exacerbated his darkening mood.

Leaving his shirred eggs and bacon untouched, he rose abruptly and left the room without a word to either of them.

* * *

Allegra watched him depart with a look of consternation. She had been about to ask about his leg, but the look on his face forestalled any questioning. Hell’s bells, the man was quixotic—pleasant one moment, irritable as a wounded bear the next. There seemed to be no understanding him …

Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t be around long enough for it to make any difference whether she could fathom the Earl of Wrexham’s strange moods.

A short while later, she and Max were crossing from the main entrance and heading for the path bordered on either side by tall boxwood hedges leading down through the formal gardens.

“Why don’t we practice on the old gate leading down to the rose garden?” suggested Max. “The years of rust will only add to the challenge.”

The sound of carriage wheels on the gravel drive interrupted Allegra’s reply. Both of them turned to observe who was approaching. A smart black phaeton, its wheels and trim picked out in a shade of dark yellow, tooled around the bend, drawn by a perfectly matched pair of greys. Max stopped and a smile broke out on his face as he waved a greeting to the fashionably dressed driver.

“Good day, Lord Bingham! Father didn’t tell me you were planning a visit.”

The gentleman drew his team to a halt by the main entrance and jumped down from his perch with an easy grace, motioning for the groom to lead the horses away. “Halloo, Max. Some urgent business has come up near the border that requires my presence. I’m afraid I sent no warning of my coming, and I must be off again in the morning.”

His gaze subtly shifted to Allegra and his eyebrow raised a fraction. “I hope this isn’t an … inconvenient time.”

“I’m sure Father will be delighted to see you,” exclaimed Max. Quickly remembering his manners, he made the requisite introductions. “Lord Bingham, may I present my, er, my new tutor, Mrs. Proctor. Mrs. Proctor, this is Lord Bingham, one of father’s oldest friends.”

Lord Bingham swept the curly brimmed beaver hat from his golden locks and inclined a bow in her direction. “A pleasure, Mrs. Proctor.” He was much too well-bred to express any overt surprise at Max’s announcement, but his eyes fairly danced with interest as he took in Allegra’s tall, willowy form and the errant honeyed curls that had eluded the severe bun at the nape of her neck. “You have sympathy, ma’am” he said with a grin. “I have known Max since he was in the cradle, and I know what you are up against. I am glad to see that he occasionally releases you from the schoolroom.”

In spite of her opinions concerning titled gentlemen, Allegra found herself responding with a smile to his open countenance and friendly manner. “Oh, Max and I have come to an understanding which I believe is mutually agreeable to both of us. I assure you, I do not let him overly bully me.”

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then spoke to Max. “Your father is ensconced in the library, no doubt?”

Max nodded.

“Good lord, Leo is in danger of becoming a dull old dog. Come, let’s roust him and have a good gallop before nuncheon—that is, if I am not interrupting lessons?”

“I believe Max will suffer no ill-effect by putting off his … current studies until a later date,” said Allegra.

Lord Bingham winked at Max. “You know, I found my lessons deucedly boring, but I did not have the advantage of such an amiable tutor.”

Max grinned. “Oh, Mrs. Proctor is never boring, I assure you.”

Once more, Lord Bingham bowed politely to Allegra. “That is an extraordinary compliment, ma’am, coming from Max. I look forward to hearing more about the progress of his studies.”

He and Max then took their leave and she watched the two of them head back to the Hall, a steady stream of friendly banter trailing in their wake.

Rather than return indoors herself, she decided to continue on through the gardens, welcoming the chance of a solitary walk in which to order her thoughts. A pensive look crossed her brow as she setout down one of the well-tended paths. When she had arrived at Stormaway Hall, she had been so sure of her opinions, especially those regarding the aristocracy. After all, as a woman of mature years, she felt she had experienced enough of human nature to make such judgements.

But somehow young Max—and his father—were shaking the very foundation of her assumptions. The lad was the opposite of a spoiled, willful child of privilege. And while there was no question that the Earl was maddeningly arrogant, opinionated and used to having no opposition to his dictates, he was also principled, capable of compassion and, most of all, fair.

Her thoughts lingered for a moment on the way he had dropped the hulking footman with one blow, then handled their hasty retreat from the library with cool aplomb—why, it was quite unfair of his friend to tease him about being a dull old dog! He had cut rather a dashing figure throughout the entire mad escapade and had displayed both quick wits and physical prowess in extricating all of them from danger.

She sighed. It had been much simpler when she had been able to regard all of the ton as unworthy of respect or regard. Now she had the uneasy feeling that to dismiss the Earl of Wrexham as such would prove no simple matter.

A stone bench set back from a circular pool offered a welcome respite from her trampings, and she took a seat while continuing to wrestle with her feelings. Allegra soon was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear the crunch of gravel until the approaching footsteps were quite close. She looked up with a start, but before she had a chance to reveal her presence, the sound of a voice floated clearly through the tall boxwood hedge that separated her resting place from the other path. A flush stole over her face as she realized the topic of conversation. Now it was too awkward to speak up, and she could only pray that they moved on quickly.

To her dismay, however, the footsteps ceased.

“Max introduced me to his new tutor.” Lord Bingham’s voice was rich with humor. There was the chink of a flint as he lit a cheroot. “How very interesting. Pray, how did that come about?”

“It is a long story, Edmund,” replied the earl through gritted teeth.” Do not roast me over it—I assure you, it is trying enough.”

Bingham laughed. “You shan’t escape so easily, my friend. I look forward to hearing all the particulars tonight.” The pungent scent of tobacco wafted through the air as he paused to light a cheroot. “If I didn’t know you better, Leo, I should ask you whether you are studying anatomy at night with the tutor,” he added lightly.

“Certainly not!” came the strangled reply.

“No, I know you are too much the gentleman to take advantage of someone under your roof, but you could hardly be blamed. She is a most attractive young woman.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” growled Wrexham.

His friend slowly blew out a ring of smoke, then gave a chuckle. “Leo! Not notice those intriguing emerald eyes and interesting curves? You are in danger of becoming a dull old dog up here. What do you do for excitement?”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Poor Leo. You used to be quite the dashing fellow. But then, I suppose you are getting on in years?—”

“I’m only three years older than you,” snapped the earl. “And still well able to plant you a facer if you keep trying to try to draw my cork. Besides,” he added, “I am not so far along in my dotage that I can’t rise to the occasion when it is required.” A pause. “Things are not quite so sadly flat around here as you might imagine.”

Bingham surrendered a friendly chuckle. “Cry truce! You know I am merely teasing. Though in truth, I should think that a change of scene once in a while might do you good. You know, I am sometimes concerned about how you hide yourself?—”

“As to that, I’m planning a journey to Town shortly. Max has been pestering me for an age to show him the sights and I have some other pressing matters to attend to.”

“Well, I shall look forward to your company. And shall the intriguing Mrs. Proctor accompany you as well?

“Save your amorous pursuits for the legion of ladies willing to succumb to your charms,” said the earl rather sharply. “I trust you will not try to seduce Mrs. Proctor. Besides,” he added with a grimace. “She has no great opinion of any gentlemen with money and titles. She thinks we all have the character and morals of a weasel.”

“Indeed? Surely as your employee, she is a bit more charitable towards you?—”

“Oh, me in particular she finds arrogant, ill-tempered, high-handed and prejudiced.”

“How perceptive,” murmured Bingham.

A growl rumbled in the earl’s throat.” In any case, yes, she will accompany us to London. But only because one of those pressing concerns of mine is to engage a more suitable tutor.”

Bingham said nothing for a moment. “Ah, well, I suppose it couldn’t really be expected that a female would be capable of the sort of intellect needed to deal with Max. No doubt the lad is being kind in not announcing she doesn’t really pass muster.”

“Mrs. Proctor is more knowledgeable, articulate and perceptive than most of the members of White’s—though that is not saying much, I fear.”

“Perhaps not,” replied Bingham. “But if that is the case, why do you need a new tutor? Max seems quite satisfied with the arrangement.”

A frown creased Wrexham’s brow as he stared at the patterns of light and shadow playing over the tall hedge. “It’s … dash it all, it’s not right, that’s why. She is a female!”

“Ah, I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“You know what I mean,” snapped the earl.

“Rather arbitrary of you, Leo,” drawled Bingham. “Actually, I should think a gently bred female might be a rather nice civilizing influence on Max as well as yourself, given that the two of you stay hidden away in the wilds here most of the time.”

“Hah!” Wrexham nearly choked. “Civilized? You don’t know the half!” He then hesitated. “Perhaps over brandy tonight, you shall hear the whole of it, if Mrs. Proctor gives me leave, for as a matter of fact, I wish to ask what you hear of Lord Sandhill in Town.”

“Your neighbor? What does?—”

“I told you, it is a long story, one in which my son’s tutor figures quite prominently.”

“Things become more interesting by the minute,” murmured Bingham. “Perhaps I’ve been too hasty in consigning you to the ranks of those past their prime.”

This time, Wrexham refused to raise to the bait. “Put out that vile cheroot and come along. Max will be waiting at the stables for us.”

As their steps faded away, Allegra hoped her face would at some point soon return to its normal hue.

* * *

Feeling a flutter of nerves, Allegra took a moment to smooth the folds of her navy merino gown before entering the drawing room. It was hardly of the latest fashion, but she deemed it presentable enough to sit down to dine with the earl and his guest. When Max had knocked on her door and announced with ill-concealed enthusiasm that both of them were invited to entertain Lord Bingham, she had been loath to accept. And even now, her face burned with embarrassment as she recalled the earlier conversation between the two gentlemen. However, she hadn’t been quick-witted enough to come up with a plausible excuse. Nor had she the heart to disappoint the lad, for his eager expression had told her that he counted on her presence.

Her hand went from the soft wool to check the pins that held her hair. She had dressed it in a style less severe than usual, though no doubt unremarkable compared to the elegant coifs of the belles of the ton . Still, it made her feel less like a governess.

Her fingers grazed a few errant curls. Lord Bingham had actually implied that she was … attractive. But recalling the earl’s answering remark brought her feet firmly back down to earth. Of course he hadn’t noticed . She was nine and twenty—well past the age that gentlemen took any interest in a female. With that lowering thought, she gave a self-mocking smile at the silliness of giving a thought to her appearance and entered the room.

The two gentlemen, though not dressed formally for dinner, looked impeccable with their perfectly tied cravats, tailored coats and pantaloons. For a moment she felt awkward and dowdy in the face of such elegance. Then her chin rose a fraction. They may have money and privilege, she reminded herself, but strip away the trappings of their class and there was precious little to admire.

Wrexham turned from speaking to his friend. An unreadable expression flashed in his eyes before he nodded a curt greeting and inquired whether she would like a glass of sherry. Lord Bingham’s reaction was less difficult to decipher. There was a frank approval in his gaze as he bowed and brought her hand lightly to his lips.

“How kind of you to join us, Mrs. Proctor, and save us from appearing crusty old misogynists.” He gave her a slight wink as he raised his head, and she couldn’t help but respond to his smile. It was genuine, causing the fair skin around his sapphire-blue eyes to crinkle.

His good spirits were infectious, and she found herself relaxing enough to answer him with the same light tone. “I shall endeavor to keep you entertained, sir, but I warn you, I have little of the social graces to which you are accustomed.”

Bingham laughed. “Good Lord, I should hope not! Wrexham and Max have assured me I can expect rational conversation from you rather than inane chatter about the weather or the latest French modiste.”

She couldn’t resist the opening. “But I thought that in your circles, no true lady of breeding was supposed to have a serious thought in her head.”

Wrexham returned from the sideboard with her sherry. “Unfortunately, you are correct. Perhaps it is because most of the gentlemen are equally featherbrained.”

Bingham repressed the twitching of his lips. “Ah, is that why you have fled the drawing rooms of Town to rusticate here in the wilds, Leo? It is a wonder you allow such a frivolous fellow as me to cross your threshold.”

“Mrs. Proctor is not the least interested in why I choose to live where I do,” said Wrexham stiffly. “And despite appearances to the contrary, you do have a brain, though you don’t always choose to use it.

“I shall do so now. I can see that further comments along those lines will only put you into an ill-temper, and this is meant to be a pleasant evening.” He turned back to Allegra. “Wrexham is not actually as dull a dog as he might seem. He can be quite lively when he isn’t barricaded in his study.”

For some reason it bothered her that the earl’s friend seemed to think him past his prime. Without thinking about it, she came to his defense . “That is most unfair of you, sir. I assure you, Lord Wrexham is not, as you put it, a dull dog in the least. He does not spend all of his time in the library?—”

The sound of choked laughter interrupted her words as Max entered the room. “Actually, Father has been spending more time than he would like in libraries.”

That remark caused Allegra to stifle a laugh. “But not as much as you might think,” she added.

Wrexham allowed a ghost of a smile.

Bingham cocked one eyebrow. “Well, Leo, you seem to be a lucky dog in having such staunch admirers. There seems to be an interesting story here if you will see fit to tell it.”

“That is up to Mrs. Proctor,” replied the earl. His eyes met Allegra’s. “However, I can vouch for Lord Bingham’s discretion, and with his broad circle of acquaintances in Town he may have heard something useful regarding Sandhill.”

She nodded her assent. “I trust your judgement in this, milord. You have my leave to tell him whatever you feel is necessary.”

Bingham regarded both of them thoughtfully before speaking. “Why the sudden interest in your neighbor? I thought you couldn’t abide the fellow—not that I blame you. In my opinion, he’s a thoroughly dirty dish.”

“What do you hear of him in Town?”

“Well, now that you mention it, there have been a few disturbing rumors floating around.” Bingham stopped to clear his throat, throwing pointed look at Max and Allegra.

“Oh, you may as well go ahead with the details,” said Wrexham with a sigh of resignation. “No doubt they would find a way to make my life intolerable until I told them.”

“Well, over the past few years, Sandhill has begun to play quite deeply at … certain gaming establishments. Though he wins occasionally, it is not near enough to cover the losses, which, from what I’ve heard, have become more and more frequent. Apparently the son is an even worse profligate, and at times, the amount of their vowels have reached staggering proportions. The thing is, it’s well known the family fortune is on its last legs. And yet, they somehow conger up the money to pay their debts.” Bingham paused and his expression turned grave. “The first odd occurrence happened about a year ago. Do you recall how the Duchess of Courtland’s emerald necklace disappeared at a house party given by Rockham at his Devonshire estate?”

Wrexham’s brows came together. “I vaguely remember reading of it—you know I pay little attention to that sort of thing. But if I recall, there was no evidence of any intruder, and the lady in question is featherbrained enough to have mislaid the bauble.”

“Even Her Grace would manage to remember where she put down something worth nearly twenty thousand pounds,” said Bingham dryly. “Sandhill was present on that occasion—as he was when the next piece of jewelry was discovered missing at Hiltshire’s gathering.”

“I imagine a number of the same people made up both parties,” pointed out the earl.

Bingham nodded. “True enough. But after that, the modus operandi changed. Thefts began to occur with regularity among the ton , always when the victims were engaged for the evening and the servants either given leave for the evening or occupied in another part of the house—whoever planned the crimes had an uncanny knowledge of the habits and schedule of Society.”

His voice dropped low enough that Allegra had to strain to hear his next words. “You know I enjoy a rather broad circle of friends, some of whom are acquainted with the flash houses who accept stolen items. Well, whispers have reached me that two men, one older, one much younger, are the ones responsible. My source describes them as “right flash coves what talk funny”—in short, gentlemen. He tells me the loot is taken by cutter to the Continent, where it is fenced, usually in Paris or in Amsterdam. When pressed for further description of the ringleaders, he claims never to have actually seen them, but from what little he has heard, the pair fits your neighbors.”

Max began to say something but his father cut him off. “Have you contacted the authorities about this?”

Bingham shrugged. “You know as well as I that without hard evidence or someone willing to give testimony, it is not a charge that would be taken seriously. But my advice is to stay well clear of the man. He is a nasty piece of business.”

“But—” blurted out Max.

Wrexham shot him a warning look as the butler entered to announce that dinner was served, causing the lad to swallow his words. It was with ill-disguised impatience that he managed to keep still under the first covers were removed and the footmen had left the dining room.

“Mrs. Proctor has also been a victim of Lord Sandhill and his son!”

For an instant, Bingham’s expression betrayed a flicker of surprise before he composed his features back into the mask of a perfect gentleman. “Indeed?” He slanted a glance at Wrexham. “I would not have thought him so clumsy as to risk preying on a member of your household, Leo. What …”

“What could he have possibly wanted from an impoverished widow?” finished Allegra with an ironic smile. “As it happens, my father possessed a very rare book. When he died, Lord Sandhill contrived to have it … fall into his own hands rather than mine. As it was some time ago, I was not in the employ of Lord Wrexham.”

Despite the brevity of her explanation, delivered in a calm, steady tone, it was clear that Bingham sensed there were many more layers to the story beneath the simple veneer of her words. He took a sip of claret while regarding her with a penetrating look. “What a shock you must have experienced, to find yourself in the vicinity of your nemesis when you came to take up your position here,” he murmured.

A tight smile crossed Allegra’s lips once again. “I’m sure you are well aware it is no coincidence that I am here, though it was only by a fortuitous stroke of luck that my cousin saw Max’s notice concerning a tutor.”

“Max’s notice? What the—” exclaimed Bingham. “Dash it all, Leo, I think it is time I hear the whole of this, if I am to be any use.”

Wrexham didn’t miss the slight flush that had stolen over Allegra’s features at prospects of having to endure the telling of all her misadventures. “And you shall,” he replied. “Over our port.”

Allegra flashed him a look of gratitude from under her lashes, which made him feel oddly pleased.

“But—” remonstrated Max.

“I believe you had promised to tell me of your current studies, Max,” said Bingham, smoothly following his host’s lead. “I am most intrigued to hear just what sort of challenges Mrs. Proctor is putting before you.”

* * *

The conversation turned to books. Despite his air of nonchalance, Lord Bingham turned out to be as well-read as the earl and Allegra found her earlier misgivings melting away as he drew her into the conversation. His easy manners also brought out a side of Wrexham she had not seen before. The earl relaxed his usual reserved manner to trade quips and good-natured barbs with his friend. Why, he even laughed at times, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling in mirth, the dark brows relaxed rather than drawn together in a predatory scowl.

It was a good thing she was not in the least susceptible to girlish infatuations, Allegra thought dryly, for there was no denying that the earl’s smile was rather devastating.

By the end of the meal she realized that the evening had not been the unpleasant ordeal she had expected. In fact, she had enjoyed herself immensely. Far from treating her as a featherbrain, the two gentlemen had accorded her opinions and remarks the same attention as they gave to each other. With a slight pang of longing, she wondered what it would be like to experience such stimulating conversation every evening.

But no sooner had the notion crossed her mind then she banished it from her thoughts. In a short time, she would be back in London, forced to impose on her cousin Lucy’s generous hospitality or to find a position of her own, one which surely would not include sitting down to dine with her employer and his titled guests as if she was one of them.

Yes, that would be her fate. Unless she could retrieve her father’s book.

She stole a sideways glance at the angular planes of Wrexham’s face, softened as he grinned in response to his friend’s latest sally. Would he truly help her, or would his words prove no more than idle promises?

Wrexham seemed to sense her scrutiny and turned slightly in his chair. For an instant there was a strange intensity in his eyes before he dropped his gaze and inquired what she thought of Bingham’s unflattering comments concerning a noted scholar of the day. With a mental shake of her head, Allegra put aside her musings to join back in the animated discussion. As Max was quick to add his own lively opinion, his voice warbling between bass and alto in his haste to get out his words, it was another long while before Wrexham pushed his chair back from the table, signaling an end to the meal.

“Why don’t we take our port in the library,” he suggested to his friend, drawing an indignant look from Max at not being included in the invitation.

“I’m not a child anymore,” he grumbled.

Bingham smiled in sympathy at the lad’s injured expression. “Patience, Max. You are almost of an age. And besides, if you were to join us, you should leave Mrs. Proctor abandoned, which would be most unmannerly.”

Max’s face brightened considerably. He turned to Allegra. “Would you care for a game of chess before you retire?”

She accepted with pleasure and the two of them withdrew to the drawing room after a round of polite good nights, leaving the gentlemen free to retreat to the masculine comfort of the earl’s library.

* * *

Bingham couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. “They did what ?”

Wrexham smiled. “I assure you, it wasn’t quite so funny at the time to observe my son and his tutor scaling the walls of Lord Sandhill’s manor house in the dead of night.”

Another chuckle sounded from his friend. “I take back all I said earlier about your dull existence. Why, it’s quite the stuff of a Radcliffe—or Quicksilver—novel. You were actually shot at?”

The earl held up his bandaged hand. “Any worse and I might have had some rather awkward explaining to do to the local magistrate. Believe me, the two of them heard in no uncertain terms what I thought of such a risky scheme. It’s a wonder we aren’t all locked up in the gaol.”

“Actually, it’s a wonder they didn’t manage to pull it off, for the fact is, it sounds remarkably well-planned. His expression then became very serious as he poured himself another glass of the earl’s excellent port. “Mrs. Proctor’s explanation is a most disturbing story—if it is true.”

Wrexham’s eyes narrowed. “I do not doubt her veracity. You have met her—do you?”

Bingham shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “Still, I see little that can be done about the matter. It’s unlikely that she will ever be able to recover her property, for most likely the book has long ago been sold.”

The earl’s expression became even more grim. “You don’t imagine I intend to let Sandhill get away with the theft?”

Bingham swirled the tawny contents of his glass then rose and began to peruse the titles on the nearest shelf. After a lengthy silence he turned back to the earl.

“Leo, I have known you long enough to sense it’s not the mere theft of a book that has roused you to such anger.”

Wrexham didn’t answer for a moment. “The younger Sandhill tried to … assault her,” he finally said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “When her younger brother, a lad no older than Max, tried to stop him, Sandhill beat badly enough to cause his death. Her life has been shattered by a so-called gentleman, one of our own. You expect me to turn away and do nothing?”

“Riding to the aid of a damsel in distress?” His friend smiled faintly. “It seems that deep at heart, you are still a romantic.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” growled the earl. “I am nothing of the sort. I simply dislike seeing an injustice done, especially by one who already enjoys a privileged life.”

“Why not simply give her the money she would have received from the book, rather than embark on some risky course of action. You’re rich as Croesus and can well afford it.”

“That’s not the point,” replied the earl doggedly. “Sandhill and his son must be punished for what they have done. Besides,” he added with a grimace. “I doubt Mrs. Proctor would accept anything from me. She’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t like me any more than she does Sandhill.”

Bingham’s eyebrow shot up for a moment, then his dry sense of humor reasserted itself. “Ye heavens, Leo, you used to have a modicum of charm.”

The earl shot him a black look.

“I suppose that means you’ve informed her of your decision to give her the sack?”

Wrexham shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It would be unfair to be less than honest about my intentions,” he muttered. “But in any case, she has no great regard for any gentleman of title—not that I blame her.”

Bingham finished off the contents of his glass. “Well, I can see there is no use trying to change your mind on this. When I return to Town, I shall see what else I can discover for you. But have a care, Leo. Sandhill and son will not take any interference into their affairs lightly. And do not underestimate them—I fear they are very dangerous men.”