Page 8 of Second Chances (Intrepid Heroines #3)

Seven

A llegra heard the wheels of Lord Bingham’s carriage roll away from the entrance of the Hall at some ungodly hour near dawn. Sleep proved elusive after that, as she found herself mulling over the events of the past evening. Her feelings were decidedly mixed. That the conversation had been both stimulating and amusing was undeniable. And that the two gentlemen had treated her with such courtesy, even kindness, was unexpected. But more than that, they seemed to be truly concerned over her plight.

She bit her lip in consternation. That didn’t make sense. They weren’t supposed to care for anything but their own pleasure. Surely Wrexham would lose interest as soon as it became tedious or inconvenient to think about the matter. And no doubt Lord Bingham, despite his warm manner and friendly words, would forget such an insignificant person as a female tutor long before he returned to his busy life in London. As she had learned more than once over the past year, it wouldn’t do to get her hopes up that anyone, except perhaps her dear cousin Lucy, would care enough about her troubles to help.

As she recalled Wrexham’s promise to tell his friend the full story over their port, a faint flush rose to her cheeks. It seemed that for the second time that day she had become the topic of conversation between the two gentlemen, a most unsettling realization. It was difficult to have one’s personal problems laid bare before strangers. Did they think her a fool? A weakling? Or worse, an object of pity?

But it was remembering Lord Bingham’s words in the garden that sparked the heat of embarrassment to deepen. Intriguing eyes and interesting curves! She shook her head. His Lordship was no doubt merely teasing his friend when he had called her a most attractive young woman. She knew she was neither. And if she had had any delusions to the contrary, they would have been quickly dashed by Wrexham’s reply. An ironic smile played on her lips. The earl’s words summed up the matter quite neatly—he hadn’t noticed.

Indeed, why should he?

And why should it bother her in the least that he hadn’t?

It didn’t, she assured herself as she flung back the covers with a touch more vehemence than necessary. Further sleep was nigh on impossible, so she dressed and quietly left her room, hoping that a brisk early morning walk might chase away such disquieting thoughts.

By the time she returned to the manor and entered the breakfast room, she felt much better and was about to greet Max with a cheery good morning when, to her surprise, she noted the glum expression on his face. Even more revealing of his depressed spirits was the fact that he was merely pushing the food around on his plate, and a plate of scones sat untouched by his elbow.

She buttered a piece of toast and sipped at her tea before breaking the silence. “Why the long face? Or would you prefer I didn’t ask?”

Max hesitated before answering. “I … I wish that Lord Bingham could have stayed longer. It can be rather flat around here without any visitors. Father prefers it that way, but … it’s so quiet.” He heaved a sigh and jabbed at a slice of Yorkshire ham. “Rusher said that when my mother was alive, our London townhouse was always filled with guests, and there were parties and balls.”

Allegra measured her words carefully. “I think you might find that such an existence loses its shine rather quickly—there is rarely an idea of substance discussed or honest opinion given.”

Max’s brows came together at that.

“You must also realize that maybe it is hard for your father—perhaps such things remind him too much of his loss. Was he … very much in love with your mother?”

He considered the question for some time. “He never speaks of her,” he finally answered in a small voice. “But he must have. I’ve overheard the servants saying she was called the darling of Society.”

The late countess was probably diminutive, with porcelain skin, rosebud lips and raven tresses, not tall and gangly with sun darkened cheeks and hair that was neither blond nor brown thought Allegra with a touch of waspishness. And Lord Wrexham probably doted on her every vacuous word.

Then, with a start, she suddenly realized there was no portrait of the lady anywhere in the Hall. That seemed strange, but she shrugged it off and forced her attention back to Max.

“Well, I’m sure you will come to appreciate that your father has taught you to value intelligent conversation over the fripperies of society. I’m sorry you are feeling blue-deviled at the moment, but remember, you will soon have a chance to judge for yourself, for you will be journeying to London very shortly. There you will get all the excitement that you desire.”

His eyes lit up a bit. “I cannot wait, save for that it also means that you?—”

“Kindly remove your elbow from your plate, Max.” The earl stepped in through the french doors. He looked as if he had just returned from a hard gallop, his hair ruffled around the collar of his riding jacket, the color of his wind whipped cheeks only emphasizing the rich blue of his eyes. Right now they were fixed with a penetrating intensity on his son. “And sit up straight.”

Max’s lower lip jutted out. Already in a testy mood, he was quick to take umbrage at the mild reproof. Quite deliberately, he slumped even more in his chair and began to mash his shirred eggs into an unappetizing lump with some bits of kippers.

Wrexham sat down as one of the servants brought him a cup of tea.

Allegra bit her lip, wondering just how much the earl had overheard. But rather than dwell on her own possible embarrassment at having discussed his personal life, she sought to stave off any unpleasant confrontation between father and son. “Max, if you are finished, perhaps we should begin our lessons now. What would you?—”

“Max,” warned the earl as he looked up.

The lad threw down his fork. “Why bother having manners? There’s no one here to see them!” he said bitterly.

“You will apologize to Mrs. Proctor for such a churlish remark,” said Wrexham quietly. “Then you will forego lessons for the morning and take yourself off to your room. If you insist on acting like a child, you will be treated as one.”

The lad threw an angry look at his father as he pushed away from the table. “Why can’t you be more like Lord Bingham!” he cried hotly. “He doesn’t treat me as if I am still eight years old. He would let me see something of the world.” His wildly roving eyes fell on Allegra. “And he is not rude to Mrs. Proctor. He wouldn’t turn her out just because I wish for her to stay!”

Stifling what sounded suspiciously like a sob, he threw down his napkin and fled from the room.

Though his features were rigidly under control, Wrexham’s face turned a shade paler and his eyes betrayed both hurt and bewilderment.

Allegra shot the earl a look of sympathy. “Pray, do not give Max’s outburst too much heed, milord. I fear he was quite out of sorts before you came in. Your words were merely an excuse to give vent to his feelings.”

The earl’s brow creased. “I hadn’t realized he was so … unhappy.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think it is that at all, sir. Lads of this age are at a most difficult stage, neither child nor adult. I suppose they must flail about and challenge authority simply in order to test their own growing muscle.”

Wrexham regarded her thoughtfully. “That is quite perceptive of you, Mrs. Proctor.”

“My brother—”she began before abruptly cutting off her words and starting anew. “With your leave, I shall go up and have a word with Max. I’m sure he already regretting his unwarranted outburst.”

His fingers drummed on the table. “If you think it best.” He hesitated a moment. “I would have thought you might enjoy seeing Max and me at daggers drawn.”

“Perhaps you find it hard to believe, but I would never wish to see you at odds with your son, sir. Max is—well, Max is a very special young man, and you have been an admirable father to him.”

The earl looked a bit startled, then his lips compressed into a rueful smile. “But not, it seems, as admirable as my friend.” He went on, more to himself than Allegra. “Edmund has always found it an easy thing to make people like him. You found him pleasant, did you not?”

“Quite,” she agreed. “Intelligent and witty as well.”

Wrexham’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Ladies find him extremely attractive.”

She couldn’t resist. “Oh? I hadn’t noticed. But then again, females of my advanced years don’t take note of such things.”

He looked as if to say something, then pushed away his empty cup and stood up. “I mean to ride over to Lord Sandhill’s this morning.”

It was Allegra’s turn to look startled. “Please sir, you needn’t let Max’s words goad you into?—”

“Mrs. Proctor, I told you earlier that I meant to look into this matter. Contrary to what you might think of me, I don’t require my son’s reminder to keep my word.” With that, he stalked from the room

It appeared that neither of the Sloanes were in the best of humors this morning.

* * *

Max dropped his book and peered out the window. “He’s back,” he announced, unable to contain the note of anticipation in his voice.

The earl tossed the reins of his stallion to a waiting groom and came inside.

“I wonder what he has learned.”

“Perhaps you should wait a bit before—” But the lad was already headed for the stairs. With a sigh, Allegra rose and followed him. If Wrexham was going to be pestered into telling what he had discovered, she might as well hear it too. But on reaching the door to the library, she paused, seeing that Max was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot behind the earl’s back, uncertain of how to approach his father.

Finally, he swallowed hard and spoke. “Ahh, Father.”

Wrexham turned sharply, apparently unaware that his son had entered the room.

“I … wish to apologize for my behavior this morning. Mrs. Proctor has—well, it was wrong of me.”

“Apologies accepted,” said the earl gruffly. “I trust you have offered the same to Mrs. Proctor?”

Max bowed his head. “Yes sir.”

“Then the matter is forgotten.”

“There is something else.”

Wrexham remained silent.

“What I said this morning,” stammered Max, his eyes full of remorse. “I … I didn’t mean it, not any of it.”

The earl’s features softened. “It’s quite all right.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Max doggedly. “I ‘m sorry I ever said such things. I don’t wish Lord Bingham was my father, truly I don’t.”

“I’m sorry as well if I have seemed unaware of your feelings, Max. And I should hope you would feel free to come talk to me about anything that is on your mind. You may be sure I shall give it the attention it deserves. Agreed?”

Max nodded.

“Good. Then let us put this morning behind us.” Without turning in her direction, the earl called out to Allegra. “You might as well join us now, Mrs. Proctor. There is little point in keeping either of you in suspense about my visit to Sandhill. No doubt the two of you would worm it out of me shortly in any case.”

Allegra stepped guiltily into the room. “I didn’t mean…”

Wrexham waved her into silence as he perched on the edge of his massive desk. “Don’t bother trying to gammon me into thinking you were merely passing by the door,” he said with a quirk of his lips.

Allegra looked indignant. “I was going to do no such thing, sir. I followed Max, but only to make sure that he did not pester you unduly if you did not choose to tell us what happened.”

“I see.” He cracked a smile, but it was quickly replaced by a more serious expression.

“Well, unfortunately, I have little good news to report. Though I gained admittance to Sandhill’s library with the excuse of wanting to borrow a certain reference book I knew he possessed, I saw no sign of your rare volume, Mrs. Proctor. And,” he added, “I managed a good look at all the shelves.”

“You didn’t have a chance to check the safe, though,” said Max quickly.

The earl shot his son a look that warned him not to contemplate anything along those lines. “No, I did not.”

“But you do not think it is there,” stated Allegra.

“No,” he admitted. “I do not.”

She took a deep breath. “I have been thinking on what Lord Bingham told us regarding Lord Sandhill’s activities. Do you think it likely that my book is still in his possession at all?”

The earl hesitated only a fraction before shaking his head.

Allegra’s hands tightened into fists at her side. “No, I think not either. Well then, I suppose that is that. I thank you for your help, sir, but there appears to be little point in pursuing the matter further. There is nothing to be done.” She made to leave, noting with chagrin that her eyes were stinging.

“Not exactly, Mrs. Proctor.”

The earl’s words stopped her in mid step.

“When Bingham returns to Town, we shall see what more he can learn of the rig Sandhill is running. If it can be discovered exactly how the stolen property is disposed of, perhaps there is a chance of recovering some of it.”

Allegra’s lips curled into a disdainful smile. “Really, milord, we both know that the authorities won’t investigate a man of Lord Sandhill’s rank and wealth.”

Max’s eyes fixed expectantly on his father’s face.

“We shall see,” replied Wrexham in a low voice. He stood up and walked towards the fire. “I did learn that Sandhill leaves for London shortly. We shall not be far behind.”

* * *

The evening was well advanced. Wrexham had been settled in front of the fire with a new scientific text from London for some time when the door of the library opened and his son quietly entered the room.

“Father, you said I might, you know, discuss anything that was on my mind with you.”

Wrexham reluctantly wrenched his attention away from the page he was reading. Damnation. He was just getting to the critical part of the experiment. “Hmmm?”

“Well, I was wondering, when was the, ah, the first time …”

“Hmmm?” repeated the earl.

“When was the first time you were with … a lady?

“They were around all the time,” he replied impatiently. “I have older two sisters, remember? And my own mother was alive until four years ago.” He eyes strayed back to the printed words.

“That’s not what I meant.” The toe of Max’s boot scuffed at the carpet. “You know, with a lady. Alone.”

The book snapped shut. Max had his full attention now.

“How did it … happen?” persisted his son.

“Errr.” The earl was caught by surprise. He hadn’t expected to have this conversation for another little while.

Max was watching him expectantly. Wrexham closed his eyes for a moment. There was nothing for it but to go on.

“Er, your grandfather took me to … to a certain establishment in Town.”

The lad’s eyebrows came together. “And?”

“Well, there are females—experienced females—who, er, show you how it’s done.”

Max looked a touch perplexed. “Is it that difficult? From observing things around the stable, I wouldn’t have thought …”

Wrexham’s face became a shade redder. “In regard to men and women, there are certain techniques…”

“Techniques?”

The earl wondered why it was that his neckcloth suddenly felt two sizes too small. “I mean, there are ways to ensure that … both parties find it … pleasurable,” he said in a strangled voice.

His son looked utterly fascinated. “Like what?”

Wrexham swallowed hard, regretting his hasty words. “The sorts of things that—I mean, well, there are books on that sort of thing.”

“Books?” Max’s eyes eagerly sought the shelves above his father’s head.

“Not here, for god’s sake,” muttered the earl. “Locked away.”

“I should like to have a look at them.”

Wrexham forced his eyes towards at his son. The lad was nearly as tall as he was, though perhaps not quite as broad in the chest. His features were beginning to take on the chiseled edge of manhood—there was no denying that the opposite sex would find what was happening attractive, to say the least. He heaved a sigh. There really was no way to put it off. Besides, Max now had the means to circumvent the little matter of a locked cabinet .

“Oh, very well.”

Then his mouth tightened as he thought about the possible temptations, now that his son was … aware of such things. A true gentleman must understand the code of honorable conduct. Another sigh escaped his lips.

“Max, sit down. We had better have a little talk.”

* * *

Wrexham wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and poured himself a stiff brandy. It went down in one gulp.

It could have been worse, he mused. He could have had a daughter.

With that chilling thought in mind, he quickly helped himself to another glass, offering up a silent prayer of thanks as he tossed that one back as well. Slowly his insides began to relax and he picked up his book from where it had fallen to the floor. In fact, there would have been a touch of humor to the whole situation—if it hadn’t been himself having to do the explaining. Well, now that it over and done with, at least he could try to enjoy the rest of the evening.

A knock came at the door.

The earl’s jaw clenched. Surely Max couldn’t have any questions as yet. “Come in,” he snapped.

Allegra entered the room. “I wondered if I might borrow your copy of Cicero’s—is something wrong, milord?”

“Nothing is wrong,” muttered the earl, turning the page with a decided snap.

Her brows shot up, but she refrained from further comment. “May I borrow it?” she repeated.

He looked up blankly.

“The copy of Cicero.”

He gave a curt wave at the bookcase.

Allegra spent a few minutes searching for the title. “I just passed Max upstairs. Is there a particular reason he was grinning like a Bedlamite?” she asked as she bent over to check another shelf.

“Do I have to endure questions from you, too?” exploded Wrexham. “Is it too much to ask for a little bloody peace and quiet in my own home?”

Allegra straightened in surprise. “Forgive me for intruding on you,” she said quietly. She started for the door, book in hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Forgive my language.”

“It’s not necessary to apologize. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

“It wasn’t that.”

She stopped. “Is everything all right with Max? I hope you did not have another trying time with him.”

He gave a harried laugh. “I’m afraid everything is too right with Max!” His hand raked through his hair. “Can you imagine, he asked me about …” Too late, he realized what he was saying.

“About what?”

The earl grimaced. “About … relations between a man and a woman.”

“Oh dear,” said Allegra, though there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes. “Pray, how did you handle that one?”

“I explained certain, er, rudimentary things. And I gave him a few books.”

“Books? What sort of books?”

The earl’s face turned a most interesting shade of puce. “On, well, techniques and—you know what I mean.”

She wished she did.

“I see,” she remarked blandly. A certain sly sense of humor prompted her to go on. After all, she had nothing to lose—she was already sacked. “How lucky you had such material at hand, my lord. But I suppose at your advanced age there is no harm in at least reading about it.”

Before the earl’s jaw could return to its normal position, she swept out of the library, making a mental note to check the shelves of Max’s study one night after he had gone to bed.

* * *

Max carefully placed the polished brass telescope into the small leather bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t mind coming along? The way is rather rough.”

Allegra glanced at his worn clothing, more befitting a stable boy than the son of an earl, then down at her own gown, the oldest she possessed. “I imagine a tear or a streak of mud will be well worth the chance to see these magnificent birds of yours in their nesting place.”

He nodded vigorously. “It isn’t everyday one gets to observe peregrine falcons with their young. It was only by merest chance that I happened to spot the site on Dunster Crag. Now I mean to get a closer look. But I imagine we shall be gone most of the day.”

Allegra regarded the bulging package that had appeared from the kitchen. “Cook seems to think we shall be gone considerably longer,” she remarked dryly.

Max grinned. “We have to go a good ways on foot so we’ll need ample sustenance.” He tied the bundle up behind his saddle and the two of them set off on horseback towards the looming moors to the north.

It was a glorious day, and Allegra enjoyed the feel of the fresh breeze on her face as they urged their mounts into a steady canter. An owl let out its ghostly hoot and high above, a hawk circled in solitary search for prey. The furze was beginning to bloom, softening slightly the rugged contours of the rocky landscape. Even without the dash of color, she found the stark wildness appealed to all her senses. Perhaps, she mused, it was because she, too, refused to be meekly tamed by the whim of man.

They rode for some time without conversation, comfortable with their own thoughts. The trail gradually became steeper, and the horses had to slow their pace in order to manage the tricky footing. When they reached the top of the ridge, Max fell back abreast of her and suggested they stop for a brief rest. Allegra was only too happy to agree for the view was spectacular. He helped her dismount and they went to sit on a ledge overlooking a stand of thick pine trees that gave way to rough sheep pastures in the distance. Max’s attention was grabbed by a rush of wings.

“A merlin, I wager,” he murmured as he reached in his bag for the telescope. “I wonder if he has caught a hare down there.” He trained the lens on the wooded ravine at their feet. Then suddenly his whole body stiffened as he focused on something to his left.

“What is it?” asked Allegra. She craned her neck over the edge but could see nothing.

Max grabbed her and yanked her back to the shelter of a large outcropping of granite. Before she could voice her surprise, he pressed a finger to his lips, then passed her the telescope and pointed to a rough cart path that threaded along the edge of the trees.

“Sandhill’s son,” whispered Max in her ear, though she needed no help in identifying the tall, stocky figure who had just dismounted from his horse. He seemed to be consulting a piece of paper in his hands.

Her mouth compressed in a tight line as she passed the brass instrument back to Max. The visage of Viscount Glenbury was not one she cared to see in person—she saw it often enough in her nightmares. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing out in this isolated spot. He did not strike her as a gentleman much interested in flora or fauna, unless, of course, the fauna wore skirts and had no one around to provide protection.

The same thought appeared to have occurred to Max. His brow furrowed in unconscious imitation of his father. “What the devil is he up to?” he muttered as he observed the other man continue slowly along the rutted path.

Allegra felt a chill come over her. “I don’t know, but let us get away from here,”

“Wait!” Max brushed away her hand from his sleeve. Through the lens of his glass, he saw the shape of another man stepping out from the shadows. “Why, he’s meeting someone!”

She tugged once more on his jacket with some urgency. “Please, Max.”

“But this is important. I’m sure there is something havey-cavey going on here.”

“Then let us go tell your father. He’ll decide what to do.”

Max snapped the telescope shut and replaced it in his bag. His face took on a mulish expression. “It will be too late,” he argued. “We’ll miss the chance to discover what their business is.”

“Dear God, you can’t mean—” Before she realized what he was doing, Max had twisted out of her reach and was already over the side of the precipice.

“I mean to follow them. Don’t worry—I can take care of myself.” Only the shock of his dark hair was still visible. “Wait here.”

“Oh Max,” she whispered to herself, pressing her cheek up against the cold slab of stone.

It took her only an instant to make up her mind.

She hurried back to their horses and grabbed up the reins of Max’s stallion. Thrusting her half boot into the stirrup, she flung herself onto his saddle, hiking her skirts up so that she could sit astride. As soon as the animal had negotiated the tricky descent down from the ridge, she urged it into a full gallop, giving silent thanks that she had overheard the earl arrange a meeting with his bailiff at one of the tenant farms not far off.

She cared not a whit what a hoydenish figure she must have cut as she pulled her lathered mount to a halt in front of the stone cottage, her ankles and calves in full view of several astonished men. The earl was among them. With no more than a slight lift of his eyebrows he stepped forward and took hold of the stallion’s bridle.

“Max!” she managed to gasp before he could say a word. “I tried to stop him! Then thought it best to come tell you right away.”

The earl regarded the frightened look on her face. “Tell me what?” he demanded,. “Steady now, Mrs. Proctor, I beg of you. Tell me what?”

She caught her breath. “Have no fear, I’m not turning missus on you, sir.” Then she quickly explained to him what had taken place.

“Hell’s teeth” said Wrexham through gritted teeth. “Can you show me where?”

She nodded.

He had already signaled for one of the men to bring Ulysses to him and as soon as he was in the saddle, he waved at her to lead the way.

Conversation was impossible. It was all she could do to keep control of Max’s big stallion, driving the tired animal into a breakneck pace back towards the looming moors, the pounding of the horse’s hooves echoing the sound of her racing heart.

Dear God, she prayed, let him be unharmed.

At the point where the trail began to wind upwards, she pulled the stallion to a skitterish halt.” We spotted the viscount from there,” she called, pointing to the ridge. “But Max climbed down the other side. There is a rough cart track?—”

“I know it,” said the earl. Without another word, he turned Ulysses and spurred forward. Allegra put her heels into her mount’s quivering flanks and followed him. They skirted a thick copse of stunted oak and scotch pine and came upon the path where it cut into a narrow ravine between two hills.

Allegra recognized the spot where Max had first seen Sandhill’s son and pointed it out to the earl.

He sprung down from his saddle. “Go on back to the Hall,” he said curtly.

She slipped to the ground as well. “I’m going with you.”

His lips compressed but he wasted no time in arguing with her. Turning on his heel, he moved off in the direction she had indicated. Allegra picked up the hem of her skirts, cursing once again the constraints of female dress, and hurried after him. They walked in grim silence, the only sound the scrabbling of their feet over the loose rocks and rutted ground. Ignoring her presence, the earl scanned the surrounding woods and hills for any sign of his son.

“Hell and damnation,” he muttered under his breath. A slight limp was now evident in his step but his pace never wavered. “Where the devil is he?”

A few minutes later, Allegra nearly collided with the earl’s broad back as he came to a sudden stop. The path took a dip down a steep incline, its surface littered with loose scree. Allegra immediately sensed the problem and came alongside him.

“Put your arm around my shoulder, sir,” she said as she slipped her arm around his waist. With her support, he was able to negotiate the unstable footing without mishap.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “I—” His voice cut off as he spied what appeared to be a pile of rags up ahead.

She gave a little cry.

Wrexham broke into an awkward run, Allegra right on his heels.

Max was lying face down. A small pool of blood had formed beneath him, an ugly splotch of dull red on the ochre dirt, and his limbs were utterly still. The earl fell to his knees. Stifling a low groan, he took his son by the shoulders and gently turned him over.

Allegra had to bite down on her knuckle to keep from letting out another cry. Both of the lad’s eyes were swollen shut and his cheeks were already beginning to mottle with bruises. His lower lip was badly split and a trickle of dried blood clung to his scraped chin. The state of his ripped and muddied clothing only hinted at what damage might have been done to the rest of him.

In the next instant, she was on the ground, cradling Max’s head in her lap while Wrexham felt gently at the lad’s neck for any sign of a pulse.

“Oh, Max,” she whispered in anguish as she smoothed the tangled curls from his brow.

As if in answer to her plea, a faint groan escaped from his lips.

The sound caused the earl to let out his breath in an audible rush.

“Thank God.” He fixed Allegra with a grim look as he removed his coat and covered Max’s chest. “I fear that with this damnable leg of mine, I shan’t be able to carry him.’ He glanced back down at his son’s battered form. “Besides, without knowing what bones are broken, it may be too dangerous to move?—”

“A cart,” she said quickly. “We must fetch a cart.”

He nodded in agreement, yet seemed frozen in place.

“You can ride faster than I. I’ll stay with Max.” She looked up at his drawn face. “I promise you, I will guard him with my life. Now go!”

Her words seemed to shake him out of his lethargy. He paused only long enough to give her arm a quick squeeze, then levered to his feet and set off.