mending she was doing and decided to visit the kitchen for a cup of tea. There had been no lessons that morning, as Max had engaged to go shooting with his father, so she was accorded the rare pleasure of an entire day to herself. But already most of it was gone, taken up with the little tasks she had been putting off for an age. After a comfortable coze with Cook, there might still be time to browse through the earl's splendid selection of books for a volume to borrow before the owner returned.
Allegra finished her steaming cup while listening to the litany of ailments that could plague a female of indeterminate years if certain draughts and powders were not consumed each day. Excusing herself with a smile and a promise to pay heed to such sage advice, she slipped through the pantry, relieved to have escaped without having to actually sample the noxious brews. A narrow corridor led back to the main wing and she was just turning the corner when a small back door opened and the earl and Max came in.
Mud encrusted their boots and drops of water clung to the thick wool of their hunting coats. A brace of grouse dangled over Max's shoulder, eyed with a hungry intensity by the shaggy hound at his side. The raw weather had brought an edge of color to the cheeks of both father and son, and with his windblown locks tousled in boyish disarray, Allegra had to admit that the earl hardly appeared a gentleman in his dotage. In fact, he looked more an older sibling than aging parent. His lean form radiated the same youthful energy as Max's, but there was also a vibrant masculinity about him not yet evident in his son.
They were unaware of her presence and a friendly bantering continued as the door fell closed.
"You young pup," exclaimed Wrexham. He threw a playful cuff at Max's head. "You think you could plant me a facer, do you? Not bloody likely!"
Max dodged the blow. "If I could spar with Gentleman Jackson for a bit, I bet I could put you on your tail!" he retorted. Then his voice turned wistful. "Couldn't we visit London soon? You promised that when I was no longer a child—and look! I'm nearly as tall as you are!"
The top of Max's head almost touched the earl's nose. "A veritable giant," he drawled, drawing a yelp of outrage from his son.
"You're mocking me!" Max jabbed a punch at Wrexham's shoulder and the two of them fell into a mock scuffle. Feathers began to fly as Sasha took advantage of the lad's lapse of attention and began to snap wildly at the swinging birds.
Allegra stifled the urge to giggle.
The earl's head came up abruptly and he caught sight of her. He straightened slowly, running his long fingers through his damp locks and tugging his coat into some semblance of order.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Proctor," he said with a slight inclination of his head.
Before she could answer, Max gave his father one last push from behind, ruining the earl's efforts at formality. He stumbled forward, nearly catching his chin on a rack set up for drying wet outer garments. "Jackanape! Have a care or the old dog shall box your ears yet," he exclaimed, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
"Father is being a bear! He won't agree to take me to London," complained Max. "Tell him it would be—educational!"
Allegra couldn't repress a smile. "Family discussions are best entered into by family members only. So I am well out of this one."
The twinkle in Wrexham's eyes was even more pronounced. "A wise decision, Mrs. Proctor."
"I could only come out in someone's bad graces, no matter which side I should champion," she pointed out.
"And whose good graces would you wish to keep?"
She regarded him coolly. "Really, my lord, on that I think we both know there is very little choice."
His lips twitched but before he could make a reply, Max spoke up again. "Well, there is another matter you might help us settle. Father and I have been arguing over a passage of The Aeneid for the entire walk home and I should like to know your opinion. We were