Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (12 page)

"I like to think I have no lack of common sense either, sir. You see, I would have nothing to gain by doing such a thing."

He picked up the glass and eyed its contents. "And what do you hope to gain by this?" he asked softly.

She stiffened. "Its ingredients do not include honey or sugar either," she said tartly. "I have already told you, I have no notion of trying to sweeten you up. If you do not wish to drink it, then by all means, do not." She turned to go. "However, you would be a fool. It works. Good night, my lord."

Her hand was nearly on the door latch when he spoke.

"A moment, Mrs. Proctor."

She turned, a wary expression on her face.

"Thank you."

The color of her eyes lightened. "You are welcome, sir." She regarded his leg propped up on a plump hassock in front of the fire. "I trust that it will bring you some immediate relief."

The door flung open, nearly clipping her on the chin. "Oh, there you are, Mrs. Proctor." Max entered the room, a wedge of apple tart in his hand. "I have been looking all over for you."

"It seems you have been quite thorough in your search. Did you imagine she was locked in the larder?" remarked his father dryly.

Max grinned. "It has been at least two hours since supper," he said as he polished off the last bite. As he wiped his hands on the seat of his pantaloons, the earl rolled his eyes heavenward. "Max, I hope you will not put me to blush with such behavior in London. Your aunts will truly ring a peal over my head for raising as a heathen."

The lad caught himself in mid-gesture and reddened. "Sorry," he stammered.

"What did you want to see me about?" asked Allegra quickly.

The lad looked relieved to have the subject changed. "Oh, as to that, I to ask you..." He stopped abruptly. "Ah, perhaps now is not a good time," he went on, slanting a sideways glance at his father.

Allegra took note of the slight hardening of the earl's features. "Not at all," she replied calmly. "Your father and I have just finished with our business."

Max appeared to be studying the subtle patterns of the oriental rug.

"I'm sure there is nothing you wish to discuss with me that cannot be said here," she continued pointedly.

The lad shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Well, it concerns a certain skill with opening locks," he mumbled. "I... was wondering how you learned to do that."

"Never mind," she snapped, now sorry she had pressed him. The earl had more than enough sins to lay at her door, besides thinking she was encouraging his son to further mischief.

To her surprise, Wrexham's mouth began twitching at the corners. "Come now, Mrs. Proctor, surely you don't mean to deprive us of what promises to be a most interesting story. I admit, my curiosity is piqued on how a gently bred female came to add such unusual skills to the normal repertoire of sewing and sketching."

Max's face brightened at the unexpected support. "It would further my education in the ways of the world, would it not?" he said slyly.

It was Allegra's turn to color under the combined scrutiny of father and son. "Really, my lord," she muttered. "I wouldn't think you would wish to encourage such an improper topic."

The earl chuckled. "Improper? In the light of recent events, I might as well give up trying to run a proper household."

She found herself unable to maintain a straight face. "Well, if you put it that way." On taking in Max's eager expression, she relented. "Oh, very well. My cousin Lucy has in her employ a coachman who, along with a special knack for horseflesh, possesses certain other talents. In his youth he... tried a few other professions before deciding that his present position offered the best prospects for a long and comfortable life."

"Your cousin sounds like a most fascinating person," remarked the earl.

"Oh, she is," assured Allegra.

"What does her husband think of her—"

"Naturally, she is a widow."

The earl's eyebrow arched in question.

"A man wouldn't allow her to exercise her own judgment in such things."

"Perhaps in this case he would be justified," he murmured.

"A typical male response!" shot back Allegra, feeling there was little need to temper her tongue. After all, she was already turned out. And besides, the earl had asked for it. "John is the most loyal, resourceful servant a person could wish for. Why, he has saved Lucy from any number of unpleasant situations by using his wits and his experience. Of course, a more prejudiced mind would never have given him a chance."

Rather than provoking a fit of anger, her heated words only increased the glint of amusement in Wrexham's eyes.

"Pray, how did she meet this paragon of a retainer?"

Allegra cleared her throat. "She made his acquaintance one night in... in the study of her townhouse. After a rather lengthy discussion, John decided that a change of employers was a most attractive idea."

"I am surprised he was willing to, er, enter into such a discourse."

"One doesn't argue too strenuously with a brace of pistols, my lord."

Wrexham gave a shout of laughter. "Remind me to return the missing one to your keeping—once we are in London."

"So it was John who showed you how to work the picks?" demanded Max, impatient to hear the particulars.

Allegra nodded. "When I came to stay with Lucy and told her of my plan to retrieve my rightful property from Lord Sandhill, we enlisted John's advice."

"He approved of your plan?" asked Wrexham.

"No, he did not," she admitted. "In fact, he informed me that it was it was harebrained scheme likely to land me in the suds, but since he couldn't talk me out of it, he said I may as well be prepared to deal with the obstacles I would face."

"The man had some sense, at least. You should have listened—"

"Is it difficult?" interrupted Max. "The actual task of getting the lock to open?"

Wrexham noted with a wry smile that he couldn't recall seeing his quiet, bookish son so animated on a topic that didn't concern the nuances of an archaic grammar. Somehow he wasn't as displeased as he supposed he ought to be. Why, even he had to admit the subject was getting rather interesting....

"Actually it is not. Once one understands the principles by which the tumblers work, it is a matter of patience and touch," answered Allegra. She tried to repress a little smile of satisfaction. "In fact, John said I had a real knack for it."

"Oh, will you give us a demonstration?" Max cast a glance at his father's desk. "Could you, say, open the top drawer?"

"Certainly not!" She forced herself to meet the earl's gaze. "Be assured, sir, I would never—"

"You would be sadly disappointed. No stolen treasures, no purse of gold."

"No passionate billet doux?" She was immediately aghast at her words.

The earl's jaw tightened. "I am not given to fits of passion, Mrs. Proctor. That sort of romantic fool exists on the pages of Lord Byron's verse, perhaps, but I am not one of them. Now fetch you picks, Mrs. Proctor, assuming you were not forced to abandon them in Sandhill's library. Neither of us shall have a moment's peace until you satisfy Max's curiosity."

She could only hope her face was not as scarlet as it felt. "I will, my lord, on one condition."

Wrexham's brows came together.

She pointed to the glass, standing forgotten on the sidetable. "Please drink that."

He hesitated for a moment, then drained the contents.

Max made a face as he watched the green liquid disappear. "What was that?"

The earl set the glass down with a thump. "Mrs. Proctor is under the impression that her vast array of skills also includes medicinal ones. In this instance I shall humor her in order that we may see the real display."

Allegra shot him an indignant look before she turned to Max. "It was an herbal tisane which I trust will help alleviate the pain in your father's knee." As she made for the door, she added something else under her breath, drawing a grin from Max.

"A pity it does nothing improve a person's disposition."

When she returned, she undid the ties of the canvas pouch and laid a number of thin metal implements out on the earl's desk.

"It is a matter of feeling the positions of the tumblers, then exerting the right pressure to move them," She went on to explain in great detail certain of the techniques and tricks her cousin's coachman had taught her. By the time the demonstration was over, the earl's desk drawer had been neatly sprung more than a few times.

"Here," she said after the last successful attempt. "Would you care to try?"

Max took the proffered tool and set to work with the sort of rapt expression usually reserved for translating Virgil. It took a good deal of fumbling and one or two muttered curses but the lock finally gave way to his efforts.

He looked up, flushed with elation. "I did it!" He snapped the drawer shut. "Let me see if I can do it quicker this time. I'm sure with practice I could have it open in a trice."

Allegra fixed at the earl with a look that announced quite clearly who should bear the blame for turn things had taken.

On the next try, Max succeeded in manipulating the tumblers nearly as quickly as Allegra had. "Excellent!" He stepped away from his handiwork and offered the thin piece of metal to the earl. "Aren't you going to try your hand, Father?"

Wrexham looked for a moment as if he might refuse to dignify the proceedings with his participation, but he couldn't resist the challenge. He took the pick and regarded the closed drawer for moment, then with a few deft movements of his long fingers, he caused the drawer to spring open in half the time it had taken the others.

Max's jaw dropped in amazement.

"You are very good at this, sir," she murmured. "Why do I have the feeling that tonight is not the first time you have done this?"

The earl schooled his expression to be deliberately bland. "Indeed? I cannot imagine what would lead you to think that." He placed the pick back alongside the others and returned to his wingchair. To his surprise, when he moved, the pain in his leg had lessened considerably. Not only that, when he sank into the soft leather, he felt deliciously relaxed, free of the nagging tension that usually crept upon him late at night.

"Now, if the two of you don't mind, I would like to finish the chapter of my book without further interruption."

"Good night, Father." There was a touch of awe in the lad's tone that only increased the earl's feeling of well-being.

Allegra waited until Max had left the room. "Better?" she inquired quietly, noting that the tautness around the earl's eyes had eased somewhat.

"Much." He let out a small sigh as he stretched his limbs out towards the warmth of the flames. "You are truly a female of... unusual talents," he murmured.

"Good night, my lord."

His eyes had fallen closed so he missed the wisp of a smile on her face as she stole from the room.

Chapter 6

At breakfast the next morning, Max failed to inquire about the particulars of the morning lessons for the first time since Allegra had arrived at the Hall. 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. "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 couldn't help but note there wasn't a trace of a limp to his step. "My lord, you have to admit I'm not entirely to blame for this. Really, I never meant 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 those 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, sir, of that you may be sure."