Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (4 page)

He grinned. "I can always find room. Especially for scones or gooseberry tarts."

His unruly mane of dark hair fell across his brow as he returned to studying the pages, nearly obscuring his eyes from view. They were a shade lighter than the earl's, and usually filled with a great deal more good humor. The few times she had crossed paths with Lord Wrexham during the past two weeks, his had positively glinted with disapproval. But he seemed to be as good as his word—as long as she did not upset the routine of the household, it appeared he was content to... ignore her. That suited her just fine, especially as it didn't look like he had made any progress in arranging for her replacement.

Max had certainly not ignored her presence. The lad was as hungry to expand the horizons of his knowledge as he was to consume the cook's excellent pastries. Unlike other young men of the nobility with whom she had had acquaintance, he showed none of the studied boredom or petulance that so pervaded their manner. Neither was he spoiled nor haughty—she had to credit the earl with that. Max came to his studies each morning with an unflagging enthusiasm and inquisitiveness that couldn't help but win her approval, and even her respect.

More than that, she liked him. She hadn't expected to, but she did. As well as being intelligent beyond his years, he was unassuming and open, rather like a big puppy who hadn't yet learned his strength. There was something endearing about the way he looked when voicing his opinion, how his features revealed the battle of manly self-confidence seeking ascendancy over childlike timidity. It reminded her so much of another young man....

She was suddenly aware that Max was speaking to her. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I was woolgathering."

He grinned again. "I do that all the time. Father is forever teasing me about having my head in the clouds."

A maid brought in the tea tray and Allegra poured both of them a cup.

"What I asked was, have you lived for a long time in London?"

"Actually just for the past four months," she replied. "I went to live with my cousin and tutor her son after my father died. I have spent most of my life in Kent, where my father was a vicar."

"What about when you were married—" He stopped abruptly and blush spread over his face. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I fear that's bad manners, isn't it, to ask you such a personal question."

She smiled reassuringly. "You may ask me what you please, Max. I'm afraid I'm frightfully hard to put out." A glint of humor crept into her eyes. "Though I don't promise to answer everything."

He looked very relieved he hadn't offended her.

"As for my husband, he was my father's curate. And my matrimonial state did not last long. He was carried off by a bout of influenza six months after we were married."

Max bit his lip. "My mother died of that as well."

It was Allegra's turn to feel awkward. "I'm sorry. That must have been very difficult for you. How old were you at the time?"

"Eight."

Something about his manner told her he wanted to talk about it. "Do you miss her terribly?"

To her surprise, he didn't answer her right away. His fingers tightened around the china cup as he stared at the pattern of tea leaves on its bottom. "She was very beautiful and very lively—everyone said she was the toast of the
ton
. She loved the balls and the dinners and the concerts in Town. I... didn't see her very much." His breath caught in his throat, then the rest of his words came out in a rush. "But I understand. She was so very... busy."

Allegra felt a welling of sympathy for him, as well as a touch of anger for the lady who obviously had little care for her child. "I'm sure she would have been very proud of what a fine young man you have turned into," she said softly.

Max looked at her eagerly. "You think so?"

"Without a doubt." She paused. "It must have been difficult for your father, too."

Max's eyes dropped once more and he crumbled what was left of his scone between his fingers. "He doesn't discuss it with me."

"Sometimes it is very difficult for a person to talk about... a great loss. No doubt he misses her as much as you do." Perhaps that explained why the earl had never remarried despite the fact that, with his title and fortune, he must have had more than his share of caps thrown at him by scheming mamas.

He pushed away the plate of scones and propped his chin on his hand. "You don't like him, do you?"

Allegra was startled by his question and took her time in answering. "I don't know your father," she replied carefully. That much was true, at least.

Max eyed her with a penetrating gaze that was unnervingly like his father's. "He hasn't exactly shown you his best side. He's a decent sort, for fathers." He hesitated, as if mulling over his own words and his eyes dropped to the desktop. "Actually, he's more than decent. He's a great gun, though you wouldn't know it from his behavior towards you."

She smiled at the lad's naiveté. "Max, an earl does not go out of his way to be charming to the hired help. Furthermore, he does not believe my presence here is in your best interest. It is to his credit that he cares enough about your feelings to allow me to stay until he can find another tutor."

"I suppose," admitted Max. "But I don't want you to leave. You are... nice."

It was a long time since anyone had said anything as touching as that. "Why, thank you, Max. I should be sorry to leave you as well. We shall just have to wait and see."

The lad gave a reluctant sigh and bent back over his book.

* * *

Things were proceeding ever so slowly, thought Allegra as she walked along the narrow path. She hadn't realized how isolated the area was and how great the distances were. It had taken her all this time just to get her bearings and figure out the shortest routes. She would need a horse, however. That much had become clear.

That shouldn't prove an insurmountable obstacle. She had been out riding with Max several times and was beginning to know her way around the stables. The earl's grooms kept the place in perfect order but she had noticed that there was little attention to keeping things under lock and key. It wouldn't be difficult to slip in one night after everyone had retired. Their sleeping quarters were far enough away from the stalls she needed that if she were very quiet....

But she wasn't nearly at that stage of her plans yet. She glanced down at the sketchbook under her arm. It was only today that she had managed to get her first glimpse of Westwood Manor, and even that was from afar. She would need to have a much closer look.

At least her charcoal and paper gave her a perfect excuse. Few people would pay any notice to an insignificant female engaged in filling her pad with ordinary landscapes and views of the stately houses. She didn't draw overly well, but that wasn't the point. At night she could study which approach was best and where the windows and doors were located.

She tugged at the strings of the large, ugly bonnet that nearly obscured her features. It was deucedly uncomfortable during her long walks, but it made it unlikely that anyone would recognize her face.

Yes, she thought with grim satisfaction, she had thought of everything.

Her mind was so occupied she failed to notice that the earl had reined his mount to a halt and was watching as she scrambled over a tall stile. Smoothing her skirts down over her sturdy half boots she suddenly became aware of his presence. Though the unbecoming bonnet shaded most of her face, a hint of a frown peeked out from beneath the broad brim.

Drat the man. She really preferred to avoid him as much as possible.

"Oh—good afternoon, my lord." Her tone was as chilly as her expression.

He inclined his head a fraction. "It appears you are partial to taking the country air."

"Lessons are over for the day. I am following your wishes to make myself scarce."

"I did not mean it literally, Mrs. Proctor," he replied dryly. "Do not feel that you must... wear yourself to the bone."

Her lips repressed a smile. So the earl actually had a sense of humor. "I enjoy doing a bit of sketching," she said.

Wrexham raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have expected you to indulge in such a frivolous pursuit."

"It does not meet with your approval? Perhaps you consider it a pastime fit only for young females."

The earl dismounted with an easy grace and fell in step beside her. There was a flash of amusement in his eyes at her last comment though he chose to ignore her challenge.

"What you choose to do with your own time is your concern, Mrs. Proctor," he answered as he casually wrapped the reins of his dappled grey stallion around the long fingers of one hand. "My concern is with Max."

Her eyes shot up to meet his. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," he admitted. "Max has made great progress in his studies. He has responded well to your teaching."

She looked at him warily. "I trust you do not mean to imply..."

"No. I do not believe you are throwing your cap at my son."

"I should hope not," she muttered. "Why, I'm almost old enough to be his mother."

The earl regarded her face and the errant wisps of honey colored hair that curled around her ears. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Max is a highly intelligent young man," she continued. "It has been a pleasure to work with such a good student." She hesitated for a moment. "He is also unfailingly polite, cheerful and courteous."

"Unlike his father," murmured Wrexham.

She opened her mouth as if to speak.

"It does seem that his moods have improved considerably," he went on, without waiting for a reply from her. "At least he is no longer flying into the boughs every time I speak to him." He shook his head. "I know this is an awkward age for him, but I was beginning to think he couldn't abide my very presence."

"You needn't worry on that account, my lord. Max thinks you are—how did he put it—a great gun."

"He said that?" The earl's features softened perceptibly.

"Indeed he did."

"Thank you, Mrs. Proctor," he said after a moment. "You did not have to say so."

She decided to change the subject. "I was wondering sir, have you made any progress in finding a new tutor for Max?"

Wrexham walked on for a few paces before answering. "No. I have not." His eyes strayed to the scudding grey clouds moving in over the craggy hills. "It seems we are in for some rain shortly. I fear you had best come up with me if you are to avoid getting drenched."

"That is not at all necessary. I don't mind a spot of rain."

"Max would no doubt ring a peal over my head if you took a chill and were unable to preside over the schoolroom." Before she could argue any further, his hands came around her waist and lifted her effortlessly up across the saddle.

He mounted as well and steadied her until she was settled into a more comfortable position in front of him. Her skirts fell in folds over his left knee and she was disconcertingly aware of the warmth radiating from his muscled thigh. To her further dismay, his arm circled her waist as he took up the reins in one hand.

"Really, my lord! There is no need for you to trouble yourself..."

His face was quite close to hers. The spicy, slightly exotic scent of bay rum and leather filled her senses as he replied. "Ulysses can carry both of us with ease."

"Well, as long as he can find his way home," she murmured.

He threw back his head and laughed. "I shall have a care that the Sirens do not lure us off course."

In spite of herself, she smiled too. She had forgotten how refreshing it could be to have a lively conversation with someone whose sharp wits and obvious erudition matched her own. Most people didn't understand her pithy observations, or simply missed her meaning altogether. She had a feeling the Earl of Wrexham was a man who missed very little.

She would definitely have to be on guard.

But at present, all she could think about was the disturbing closeness of his arm circling her waist. The chiseled strength was evident, even through the fabric of his impeccably tailored riding coat. It wasn't as if she had never been this close to a man before. But somehow Harry hadn't been quite like this...

"Do you ride?" inquired Wrexham as he spurred the stallion into an easy canter.

"Yes," she replied, thankful for the prospect of a conversation to take her mind off of other thoughts. "I grew up in the country."

"And where was that?"

She bit her lip, ruing her hasty words. The earl was quick enough that he might put two and two together later on. "Not far from London," she said, hoping it would do, then quickly went on. "Max has kindly taken me out several times and showed me some of the local sights. I should like to explore more, that is, if it meets with your approval."

He made no attempt to press her on her origins. "Please feel free to make use of the stables."

Well, at least she had accomplished something useful.

"You would be well advised to listen to my son's advice on what areas to avoid," he added. "There are some spots where the trail can be dangerous if one is not familiar with the terrain. Max knows them all—he is bang up to the mark as a rider."