Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (17 page)

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 more 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, choking down his own rising fears. "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 toward the looming moors, the pounding of the horse's hooves echoing the sound of her racing heart.

Dear God, she prayed, let him be all right.

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 below.

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." His eyes sought out Allegra's 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 scrambled to his feet and set off, teeth gritted against the searing pain in his leg.

Chapter 8

Heavy grey clouds scudded in from the west and the day that had begun so promising turned ominous. Allegra added her own short spencer to the earl's garment so that Max would not take a chill. She had already torn several lengths of cloth from the hem of her skirt, then soaked them in the icy waters of a nearby brook in order to clean the worst of the grime from his face and apply a cold compress to the nasty swelling around his eyes. Once or twice he stirred under her touch, his lips moving ever so slightly, as if he were trying to speak. But even that slight effort seemed to exhaust his meager strength. There was no further sign of life, save for the faint rasp of his labored breathing.

It seemed like an eternity before she heard the clatter of wheels coming towards them. The earl leapt down from beside the driver and stumbled over to Allegra.

"Still much the same," she said quickly in answer to the stark question in his eyes. "He hasn't regained consciousness. You have sent for a doctor?"

"Of course I bloody have—sorry." He raked his hand through his hair. "It was a lucky thing that work was being done on Renfew's roof. Watson already had his cart hitched in order to fetch supplies from Hingham. We've brought a board, so that Max may be moved with the least disturbance."

His gaze had never left his son's battered face. As the driver of the cart turned his team and dragged a section of planking from the back of the conveyance, Wrexham took Max's lifeless hand and bent low over his ear. "Steady lad," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm here with you now."

The two men then carefully shifted Max onto the board and placed it on a hastily arranged pile of straw. Wrexham and Allegra climbed in on either side while the other man hurried to take up the reins. The cart moved off with a lurch.

Wrexham's face betrayed his frustration with the painfully slow progress over the ruts and rocks. He grimaced with every jolt, his hands clamped tightly on the board to absorb as much of the jostling as he could. Allegra put her head and down and did the same. In a short time, her hands were raw and bleeding from the considerable effort but she hardly noticed. All of her attention was riveted on the bruised face that lay so utterly still.

Neither of them spoke a word. What was there to say?

At last the cart track intersected with one of the main roads and the driver dared urge the horses into an easy trot. Still, it another long while before they turned up the winding drive leading to the Hall. The doctor was already pacing anxiously by the front entrance and several of the footmen, their faces creased with concern for the younger Sloane, hurried to assist the earl in carrying his son up to his chamber. Allegra trailed in their wake, along with the housekeeper, who carried a large tray with all the items the doctor had requested.

Once Max was laid in his bed, the doctor ordered everyone from the room. "You as well, my lord," he added, indicating that he expected Wrexham to quit the chamber.

"The devil I will," cried the earl. "I mean to stay with my son."

Dr. Graham heaved a sigh, then shut the door behind them.

Allegra stared for a moment at the polished oak that swung closed only inches from her nose, then turned to encounter the worried faces of footmen and the housekeeper, as well as Rusher and a number of the maids who had gathered to wait news on Max's condition.

"Rusher, Mrs. Gooding, I think it best if you and everyone else return to your duties. I shall inform both of you as soon as there is any word concerning Max's condition, but it does no one any good be milling around here," she said firmly. "Lord Wrexham has worries enough without having to confront a sea of long faces."

No one thought to question her authority to make such decisions. The crowd of servants dispersed, leaving her alone to pace the hallway in silent vigil.

* * *

Wrexham held his breath as the doctor carefully cut away Max's bloodied shirt and began his examination. He probed gently around the abdomen, then applied his ear to the lad's chest more for a long enough time that the earl feared he may have fallen asleep. Next his skilled fingers moved slowly over the raw face and made a careful inspection of the skull. Finally, he straightened and sat back on the edge of the bed.

"Several ribs are cracked but there appears to be no danger of a puncture to the lungs. Neither is there any indication of a rupture to any of the other organs. He's taken a nasty crack to the head, but his pupils are not badly dilated so I don't believe it is life-threatening." He returned several instruments to the small leather valise by his side. "Despite the multitude of cuts and bruises, I can find no other serious damage. Max is a hearty young fellow. He will be in considerable pain for the next few days, but I see no reason why he won't make a full recovery."

The earl let out his breath in a rush of relief.

"Of course, head injuries must always be watched for the first few days, and we must guard against is his taking a fever or inflammation of the chest in his weakened condition. I shall stop by first thing in the morning, but you must send for me during the night if there is any change for the worse." He adjusted the gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his long nose and dropped his voice a level as he began to wind a long bandage around Max's chest. "Have you any idea who could be responsible for such a vicious attack?"

Wrexham's mouth thinned to a tight line but he didn't answer.

Dr. Graham cleared his throat and removed a small bottle from his bag. He squeezed a number of drops into a glass of water. "Here is a draught of laudanum for when Max awakes. I shall tell Mrs. Gooding the exact dosage on my way out—"