Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (16 page)

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 my lord, 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 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. He wouldn't tolerate liberties with the maids or the daughters of his tenants. A true gentleman must understand the code of 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, my lord?"

"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 sometime 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's hand shot out 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.