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Once the vehicle emerged from the tangle of London streets and gained the countryside, Mrs. Randall sat up excitedly, her face pressed to the window glass. After an hour spent exclaiming over the beauty of budding trees, emerging bulbs and early wildflowers, she accepted a mug of wine from Lord Tavener. When she had finished that, the soporific effect of the rocking coach overcame her and she nodded off.
Allegra appreciated as much as her chaperone the unblemished beauty of the countryside passing beside them. With her lungs filled with the sweet scent of fresh country air, she too might have grown sleepy—but for the presence of Lord Tavener. Folding his tall frame onto a narrow carriage seat left his knees nearly touching hers, a fact that kept all her senses on edge.
Sternly forbidding herself to imagine sitting beside rather than opposite him, his arm, now draped casually along the back of the squabs, at her elbow to steady her against the bumps in the road, she once again gave thanks for the restraining presence of the dozing Mrs. Randall.
Smiling, Allegra looked from that lady’s somnolent form to Lord Tavener—and caught him staring at her.
Her breasts tingled at the intensity of the gaze he had fixed on them. Her cheeks flushing as well, she said softly, “You are backsliding, sir.”
His lazy gaze leapt to her face. “Backsliding?”
Allegra shook a finger at him. “You were staring at my…person again.”
“How could you know? You’ve been gazing out the window.”
“I just saw you,” she pointed out.
He sighed and a little sparkle glittered in his eyes, making him seem like a schoolboy caught out in some mischief. “Very well, but you must not be too severe with me. ’Tis your loveliness distracting me again, else I should have glanced away before you noticed. Besides, ’tis unreasonable to expect me to always resist the pleasure of looking at you. I’m but a man, after all.”
“And therefore highly susceptible to temptation?”
He grinned. “Aren’t we all, upon occasion?”
He must be referring to her response to him in the garden, she thought, her blush deepening. Restraining herself from remembering what his unwavering gaze teased her to recall, she wrapped her arms around her sensitized torso and said primly, “We must all resist temptation if we are to achieve our goals. If you wish to woo and win your heiress, you must learn more quickly. Since it appears such a daunting task, are you sure you want to attempt it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve no other recourse, if I am to salvage my estate.”
“Is Brookwillow your family home?”
“I didn’t grow up there, if that is what you mean. I was but a lad of five summers when my parents died, so spent most of my youth at school.” The light in his eyes faded. “I’ve paid visits over the years, of course, but already by the time I left Oxford, the manor was too decrepit to inhabit. Nor does the land produce enough income to fund the necessary repairs.”
His voice for once void of its usual teasing overtones, she caught an echo of despair in his reply. He truly cares about Brookwillow, she realized, a deep sympathy welling up within her. She wondered if Tavener realized how clearly his tone revealed the depth of his frustration at the deterioration of his estate.
“How is the manor situated?” she asked, aching for him and wanting to steer his mind to happier thoughts.
To her satisfaction, his expression brightened. “Brookwillow stands on a hill on the Hampshire downs,” he replied, and from his faraway expression, she knew he must be picturing it in his mind. “A small river, hardly more than the brook for which it is named, runs at its feet and meanders through the surrounding farmland. The current building was erected on the ruins of a castle donjon, but it’s Elizabethan, mostly.”
“It sounds lovely.”
He turned to her, the light in his eyes dimming again. “It used to be. I suppose it could be again, given an influx of enough cash and a knowledgeable manager.”
“You know nothing of farming?”
His laughter had bitter overtones. “My guardian could not be bothered to teach me anything useful. But he paid my fees at Eton and Oxford, for which I must be grateful.”
“In addition to music, Papa taught me Latin, mathematics and the classics. Mama drilled me in French, history and literature, so I’m more knowledgeable than most females, I suppose, but how I should have loved to go to Oxford! It seems so unfair that university learning is limited to gentlemen.”
“’Tis much too dangerous for ladies to be educated,” he responded. “You are already so much cleverer than men, you would soon take over the world.” His eyes roamed her face to settle on her lips. “You’ve nearly conquered this bit of it already,” he said softly.
Did he infer she’d conquered him? At the sudden heat in his powerful gaze, Allegra’s lips burned and the breath caught in her throat.
“You will be…compassionate to the vanquished, I hope?” he whispered, leaning toward her.
She couldn’t help it. Some irresistible impulse pulled her toward him, made her eyes flutter shut at the warmth of his breath on her cheeks. A sense of urgency churned in her belly as she anticipated his touch, his taste…
The carriage hit a rut that bounced them both into the air. He steadied her back to her seat as Mrs. Randall woke with a start.
“Dear me, I must have dozed off!” she exclaimed. “Are we near the inn yet?”
Though Allegra felt her cheeks flame hotter, Lord Tavener appeared perfectly composed. “We’re almost there, ma’am,” he said, smoothly picking up the conversation as if he hadn’t just almost kissed her. “I trust you are rested and ready for luncheon. I promise the fare at The Brindled Mare will not disappoint you.”
While he continued to talk to her chaperone with practiced ease, Allegra looked on, both frustrated and grateful at the fortuitous interruption of their little interlude. How could he look so cool and detached while, unsettled and still hungry for his touch, she burned?
Because, she answered herself acidly, despite the glimpse she’d had of the more complex man within, at heart he was still a rake. Only a man who, as he’d said, couldn’t be blamed for taking advantage of the moment and a girl who was all too obviously susceptible to his charm.
Berating herself for allowing the fact of Mrs. Randall’s presence to lull her into letting down her guard, Allegra vowed to conduct herself for the rest of this journey with the utmost propriety.
As if the rake’s effect on her, she thought with more than a little disgruntlement, was as superficial and fleeting as hers seemed to be on him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AS THEY SAT AT A TABLE in the inn an hour later, Will’s palms remained sweaty and his heart still thudded in his chest. He only hoped he’d forced down enough ham and ale to give credence to the claim he’d made to Mrs. Randall about the superiority of the Brindled Mare’s luncheon.
What had he been thinking, to have subjected himself to the torture of riding for hours in a closed carriage with Allegra? He should have known that he’d not be able to content himself forever just with the pleasure of gazing at her, great as that pleasure was. Not when her lushly rounded body sat but a hand’s reach away, her expressive dark eyes luring him closer as she captivated him with her smile, her lavender scent, her witty rejoinders.
It made his hands perspire anew to recall how close he’d come to wrapping her in his arms and kissing her until she begged for breath while her chaperone dozed not two feet away. Had he no control at all?
A review of how she’d looked in the carriage, the ebony curls peeking out beneath her bonnet, the satin skin of her countenance glowing from the crisp fresh air, those berry-red lips, was enough for his body to tighten again.
No, he possessed no control at all where Allegra was concerned.
Interestingly enough, it appeared she was also susceptible to him. Had that fortuitous bump in the road not prevented him from kissing her, he knew she would not have repulsed him, just as she had not slapped him in the garden at Lynton House.
He tried to damp down the thrill of purely masculine satisfaction at that realization and force himself instead to examine why, if the connection between them was so strong, she seemed so set on marrying Rob Lynton.
Of course, to ask that was to answer. For a lady of dubious connections who needed a secure position in the world, Lord Lynton had much more to offer than an impoverished baron with a crumbling estate. Allegra’s senses might have other ideas, but her practical mind was set on what even he must admit was a more prudent and advantageous match.
Which probably explained why she’d grown so quiet since that almost-kiss in the carriage. Fortunately Mrs. Randall, full of excited chatter about her return to the country and the prospect of visiting her dear friend, hadn’t seemed to notice the relative dearth of conversation produced by her two luncheon companions.
For another moment, Will let his gaze rest on Allegra’s downturned face, the thick dark lashes painting two semicircles of shadow over her cheeks. A dull ache throbbed in his chest.
Assuming the man wasn’t cloth-headed enough not to eventually recognize the treasure within his reach, would Lynton cherish that fiery passion just waiting to be awakened or Allegra’s fiercely inquiring mind? Somehow, Will didn’t think so—any more than he expected to thrill at possessing the well-dowered pinnacle of maidenly deportment Lucilla wanted him to wed.
