Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (14 page)

Her fingers grazed a few errant curls. Why, Lord Bingham had actually implied that she might be... attractive. But recalling the earl's remark brought her feet firmly 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 wry smile at the very 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 came up 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 take 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 pale 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? 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, when you choose to use it."

"I shall do so now. I can see that further comment 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 you might think, she added."

Even Wrexham allowed himself 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 judgment in this, my lord. 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? Thought you couldn't abide the fellow—not that I blame you. Dashed rum sort, if you ask me."

"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," 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 the blunt comes from somewhere to pay the debts, for paid they are." He paused and his mien became quite serious. "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.

His friend nodded. "True enough. But after that, the modus operendi 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 masterminded things 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. 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, she thought dryly, for there was no denying that the earl's smile was rather devastating.

By the end of the meal Allegra realized that not only had the evening not been the sore trial she expected but that 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 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 somewhat 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 they broke away and he 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.

* * *

Lord Bingham could hardly refrain from laughing. "They did
what
?"

Wrexham smiled himself. "It was not quite so funny at the time, I assure you, to observe my son and his tutor scaling the walls Lord Sandhill's manor house in the dead of night."

Another chuckle came from the other man. "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."