Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 02] (18 page)

"F... father..." came a weak voice.

Wrexham rushed to the side of the bed. "I'm here, Max."

"I'm... sorry I disobeyed..."

"It's all right."

The lad's eyes fluttered open and he essayed a wan smile through his bruised lips. "I suppose I deserve to be birched."

Wrexham smoothed his son's matted locks off his forehead. "We shall discuss that some other time, shall we? Right now I want you to rest."

"He... he—" Max's words broke off as he winced in pain.

The earl already had the glass to Max's lips. "Here, drink this," he urged.

Despite a weak protest, he wouldn't allow the lad to push it aside until the last drops were choked down.

"Vile stuff," said Max with a grimace. The expression only deepened as he tried to move his head. "Hurts like the very devil," he muttered as the earl sought to adjust the feather pillows. But in another few moments, his eyes fell shut and he drifted back into sleep.

The doctor lay a hand on Wrexham's arm. "With that amount of laudanum, he should rest comfortably for another few hours, my lord. I suggest you lie down yourself. If you'll forgive me for saying so, you look all done in. I'll send Mrs. Gooding up to sit with the lad for a while."

Wrexham stared down at his disheveled clothing and scraped hands. "Yes, of course," he mumbled, but he made no effort to rise.

"Much as I value your patronage, Lord Wrexham, I have no desire for a second Sloane patient," said Dr. Graham. "Get some rest, sir."

The earl's mouth crooked in a wry smile. "Very well. I promise I shall summon Mrs. Gooding to stand watch for a time."

Knowing he would have to be satisfied with that, the doctor shut his bag and quietly left the room. He was in such a hurry to fetch the housekeeper he didn't notice Allegra standing in the shadows, hands clasped to her breast. Nor did Mrs. Gooding, whose ample bulk was, a few minutes later, moving up the stairs as rapidly as the doctor's had descended them. Muttering a steady stream of invocations under her breath, she pushed open the door to Max's chamber and disappeared inside.

It was only when the earl's tall form limped into the hallway that she found the courage to speak.

"How... is he?" Allegra's throat was so tight, the words came out as a croaked whisper.

Wrexham's head jerked around. He made a quick nod.

"Oh!" Her hands flew to her face as she took several deep breaths. "Thank God."

The earl moved slowly towards her, his eyes taking in her muddied face, the hair tumbling in disarray from the loosened pins and lopsided state of her dress, with the ragged tear exposing a good deal of one ankle. His brows came together slightly before he spoke. "Max is extraordinarily lucky. His injuries are not as bad as they look and Dr. Graham expects that he shall make a full recovery."

"That is good news indeed." Allegra hadn't failed to notice his look. She glanced down at her gown and swallowed. "Forgive my shocking appearance, my lord. I... I couldn't bear to go and change until I had news of Max."

"You think I mean to criticize the state of your gown?" he growled as he stopped in front of her. "Mrs. Proctor, without your actions, Lord knows how long Max would have lain there—and what the consequences would have been."

Her mouth quivered. "But my lord, it's all my fault to begin with. I had no right to involve your son. I was so afraid that Max was—" A sob burst forth as she could hold in her pent-up emotions no longer. To her added mortification, she felt a wetness on her cheeks. "Oh dear, I... I never cry," she mumbled, brushing angrily at her face with her sleeve. But the tears wouldn't seem to stop.

Suddenly her head was buried in the soft linen of the earl's shirt and his long fingers were gently stroking her windblown curls. It was a few minutes before her shoulders stopped heaving and she managed to lift her chin from the solid warmth of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I don't know what came over me. I'm not usually such a watering pot."

"No, I don't imagine you are," he murmured, strangely reluctant to release his hold of her.

She straightened and began smoothing at the wrinkles on her sleeve to cover her embarrassment. Wrexham reached out and took one of her hands. He regarded the raw scrapes for moment, then took her firmly by the arm and marched her towards the stairs.

"My lord—" she began.

The earl ignored her protest and guided their steps to the library, where he sat her in one of the large wing chairs by the roaring fire. Moving to the sideboard, he poured a generous amount of spirits into two glasses and thrust one of them into her hands.

"Drink this," he ordered.

She took a tentative swallow and nearly choked. "Wh... what..." she sputtered.

"Brandy." He drained his own glass. "Every drop, Mrs. Proctor," he added, indicating the contents of her snifter. "I insist—I think we both are in need of it."

She did as she was bade, swallowing the rest of the amber liquid in one gulp. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "It does warm the insides, does it not?"

Wrexham's mouth quirked in a slight smile. He refilled both their glasses and went to stand by the fire.

"Please, my lord," she said softly.

He cocked an eyebrow in question.

"Please sit down. Your leg must be aching abominably—I can't bear to see you standing."

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. After a slight hesitation, he shuffled to the other chair and took a seat. His eyes closed for a moment as he settled into the welcome softness of the leather, then they popped open again.

"What are you doing?" he sputtered.

Allegra was kneeling in front of him. "I am removing your boots, my lord. I'm sure you will much more comfortable without them." Her fingers began massaging at his bad knee, drawing an involuntary sigh of relief from the earl.

"Better?"

He stretched his stocking toes out towards the fire. "Much," he admitted. Then he started. "Hell's teeth, your hands, Mrs. Proctor."

She looked down at the various cuts and scrapes as if aware of them for the first time. "It's really nothing. They don't bother me—"

"You will kindly sit back in the chair, Mrs. Proctor." There was no mistaking it was an order.

Allegra reluctantly rose and returned to her seat, tucking her feet up under her as she nestled against the overstuffed arm. She watched as the earl took another swallow of his brandy and let out another sigh. Their eyes met.

"I meant what I said earlier, my lord," she said softly. "I am so truly sorry for what took place today. Max has become very special to me. If he had been—" Her voice caught and she shook her head. "I would never have forgiven myself."

"Don't go raking yourself over the coals. You are hardly to blame for evil nature of Sandhill's son," he answered. "And Max is going to be fine—though it appears I should do well to stand him a few lessons with Gentleman Jackson himself when we reach London," he added lightly, in an attempt to assuage her obvious distress.

"He never would have been in such a situation if it hadn't been for me! I had no right to intrude upon your household and involve Max—and you—in all of this, no matter that I meant no harm to either of you. Be assured that I mean to remove my presence from here immediately so that Max will not take it into his head to do anything so foolish again."

"The devil you will," he snapped. "Whether you like it or not, Mrs. Proctor, I am now as deeply involved in this as you are. Do you think me so faint-hearted that I would be run off by the likes of Sandhill and son? I told you before I meant to keep my promise to help you. And now that they have chosen to strike out at my family as well—" His jaw tightened. "I would follow those two bastards to Hell itself in order to see justice done."

A mixture of hope as well as regret sprung into Allegra's eyes.

"So let me hear no more talk of quitting your position here until I decide on how we shall proceed."

At that, she essayed a slight smile. "I thought I was already given the sack."

"Not until we have reached London," he reminded her in a gruff voice. "Until then, I still expect you to abide by my wishes."

Allegra took a sip of her brandy to avoid having to give an answer. After all that he had done, it seemed churlish not to agree, but she, too, took her word seriously. The omission did not escape the earl's notice and drew a soft chuckle from him.

"I suppose that is too much to ask," he drawled. "Well, at least let us agree to work together to ensure that those two curs cannot cause any more suffering."

To that she could concur wholeheartedly. Then she started to rise. "I shall go sit with Max—"

"Sit down, Mrs. Proctor. He will not waken for several hours." He regarded her drawn face and the dark smudges under her eyes. "You will take yourself off to your own bed—and I shall brook no argument. Besides, it is not your duty to serve as nurse. I shall stay with him tonight."

"I'm not at all tired," she lied. "I wish to help with Max. Please."

The flinty blue of Wrexham's eyes softened considerably. "Oh, very well. We shall spell each other."

He swirled the remaining brandy in his glass and his attention seemed to drift to the crackling fire. He stared, lids half closed, into the fire, a pensive look on his face. Allegra curled even deeper into the comfort of the armchair, unmindful of how frightfully improper a picture she must have presented. Somehow, the earl's presence was oddly comforting—or perhaps it was merely the brandy beginning to take effect. The knot in her stomach began to loosen and a pleasant warmth started to seep throughout her limbs. Her chin dropped a fraction, then her shoulders began to tilt ever so slightly to the side.

Wrexham smiled to himself at the sight of Allegra fast asleep in his favorite chair. The firelight glinted off the golden highlights in her hair and played over the smooth, high cheekbones and long lashes. Hardly the image of a female of advanced years, he couldn't helping thinking. Why, in repose she looked barely out of the schoolroom herself. There was something achingly vulnerable about the arch of her neck and the way her slender hands clutched together in her lap.

Her lips twitched and she made a soundless cry in her sleep. His smile disappeared as he thought about all she had endured. Yet it hadn't diminished her courage or her determination. Well, he had promised to do all he could to help her put those nightmares behind her.

With a sigh, he took her in his arms and carried her up to her room. And then it was time to turn his attention to his son.

* * *

Wrexham's head jerked up with a start. He must have dozed off for just an instant he thought, as he rubbed wearily at his eyes. The soft flicker of a candle came into focus. Allegra stood over his chair, her face cleaned of the mud and dust, her windblown hair now neatly arranged, her tattered gown replaced by one that smelled faintly of lavender and sunlight.

"I think it is time you heeded your own admonitions, my lord," she said softly. "Go to your own chamber. I shall stay with Max."

"No need. Just closed my eyes for a moment," he mumbled thickly.

Her skeptical expression conveyed what she thought of that farididdle.

"You'll do Max no good if you push yourself to a state of collapse," she pointed out. Her hand touched his shoulder. "Now go, sir. That's an order. You know you may trust Max to me."

He made a wry face. "I thought I gave the orders here." However he couldn't argue with the sense of her suggestion. He rose stiffly, grimacing slightly as every joint seemed to cry out in fatigue. He gestured to the glass on the small table by the bedside. "When he wakes, try to have him drink that. Check his brow regularly for any sign of fever. And see that the pillows don't shift—"

She took his arm and guided him towards the door, her grip tightening as his knee buckled slightly. "I am no stranger to the sickroom. Rest assured I'll see to everything."

He managed a smile. "I know—what's this?" He stared at the glass she had placed into his hand.

"I made a draught for you. For your leg."

"Good lord, you needn't feel you have to take care of both of us," he muttered as he limped towards the door.

"I don't mind," she whispered at his retreating back.

* * *

Max's face took on a mutinous expression. "I don't want to drink another glass of the odious stuff. And I don't want to stay cooped up in bed, with Mrs. Gooding and you fussing over me as if I were not able to lift a finger for myself."

Allegra laid aside the book she was reading aloud to him and fixed him with a steady gaze. At least, she noted, his features were returning to normal, despite the petulant cloud hanging over them at that moment. The nasty swelling had disappeared, the cuts were healing nicely and the worst of the bruises had faded to a dull grey.

"I'm sure you don't. But until Dr. Graham gives leave for you to rise, you will stay where you are, even if I am forced to fetch a length of rope to tie you to the bedposts."

He tried to scowl but a grin materialized instead. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course." She looked at the stack of other books that lay piled on the floor. "Would you care to hear something else, or would you rather I put the candle out. You must be getting tired since Mrs. Gooding told me you didn't nap before supper was brought up."