Regina Scott (16 page)

“Bit earthy for my tastes,” Trevor replied, leaning back. “I far prefer ethereal creatures like your sister.”

“Ah, is this a request to court Phoebe then?” Chase teased.

Trev held up his hands. “Not from me! I have no wish to end up looking down the barrel of your pistol.”

Chase cocked his head. “Even you, Trev? Is my reputation so daunting then that no one will offer for Phoebe?”

Trevor shrugged. “You do make it difficult, old man.”

Beagan coughed from the door. “Excuse me, my lord, Sir Trevor,” he said when Chase acknowledged him. “Mrs. Price is here.”

“I’m sure her stepdaughter will be delighted to see her,” Chase said.

A slight movement of Beagan’s fingers was the only sign he was in distress. “She didn’t ask for Miss Price, my lord. She said she heard you were up to receiving visitors and she’s most insistent on seeing you.”

Trevor cast Chase a telling look.

“Send her in,” Chase said, curious.

Trevor rose. “You have no need for me to watch this.”

“Stay,” Chase said. “If you’re right, I may need a witness.”

But he couldn’t be right, Chase thought as the tap of Mrs. Price’s shoes drew closer. He was surprised to find that his hands had fisted and forced them to release. Meredee Price was no cozening female. He’d have staked his life on it.

Mrs. Price sailed into the room. Her gray hair had been tacked up in some kind of arrangement that was even now falling into her eyes. She kept batting at it with her hand, setting her rumpled gray skirts to swaying. Unless he missed his guess, she was wearing two different shoes.

“So, it’s true,” she said when Chase and Trevor rose to greet her. “You’re up at last.”

“Indeed,” Chase said, “and thank you for your concern.”

“My concern, sir, isn’t for you. It’s for Meredee.”

Out of the corners of his eyes, Chase could see Trevor focused on him again, but he refused meet his friend’s gaze. “I assure you she has been a credit to you in this house, madam.”

“Certainly she’s a credit! Meredee is a fine young lady, dedicated to those she loves.”

“Here it comes,” Trevor muttered.

“Loves?” Chase pressed, and his fists bunched again.

Mrs. Price waved a hand. “Her family, her friends. Yet you, my lord, have abused such feeling.”

Disappointment was so sharp he could taste it like metal on his tongue. Had this illness affected his judgment? Had his family again been betrayed by someone they thought was a friend?

Was the woman he was coming to care for a hideous fraud?

“Miss Price has been chaperoned every minute,” Trevor said when Chase remained silent.

“Well, of course she has,” Mrs. Price said with a sniff. “I would expect no less.”

This time Chase did meet Trevor’s puzzled frown before returning his gaze to his visitor. “Forgive
me, madam, but I don’t understand your purpose in coming here.”

“I’m here,” she said, hands on her hips, “because I want Meredee returned to me. I cannot find my belongings. Simply look at the wreck those girls at the inn made of my hair! You must release my daughter to me at once, sir! I need her more than you do!”

M
eredee was walking with Lady Phoebe in the little walled garden behind the house when the footman came to tell her her stepmother was waiting. The sun warm on the back of her butter-yellow short jacket and damask roses scenting the air had lifted her spirits, and she fancied Phoebe looked happier, as well. She purposely hadn’t raised the subject of leaving. Part of her feared Phoebe’s reaction, but the larger part feared her own.

“Tell her you’re needed here,” Lady Phoebe insisted, following Meredee along the graveled path toward the house. Bright flowers and dusky shrubs clustered on either side, and a bee buzzed past. “We simply cannot get on without you.”

“That’s not true,” Meredee started, feeling obliged to argue with the girl. Then inspiration struck. Between Lady Phoebe and Mrs. Price, who would come out the winner in a contest of wills?

“But by all means,” Meredee continued, “come discuss the matter with her yourself.”

Lady Phoebe nodded. “Assuredly! I’d be delighted to make my case. I’m sure your stepmother will be accommodating.”

Meredee smiled at that, and the two of them started for the house again. A sharp hiss from the shrubbery drew them up short.

Meredee groaned. “I recognize that crimson coat, sir.”

Algernon slipped into the sunlight. “Are you implying I wear the same coat too frequently, madam?”

“No, no, Algernon, of course not,” Phoebe cried as if Meredee had maligned his very character.

“Your coat is not the issue,” Meredee said, gaze darting toward the house. “Your presence is. Lord Allyndale is up and about today. You cannot be seen.”

“Then go and keep him entertained,” Algernon said, taking Lady Phoebe’s hand and threading it through his arm. “I wish to have words with the most beautiful girl in Scarborough.”

Lady Phoebe giggled, but Meredee affixed him with such a look that he instantly lowered his gaze.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to order you about.”

“But you will help us, won’t you, dear Meredee?” Lady Phoebe said. Without waiting for an answer, she tugged Algernon farther away from the house.

Meredee shuffled back and forth on her feet a moment, skirts swinging. Should she follow them,
pull Lady Phoebe back to the house? Somehow she thought the girl would put up a fuss. But Meredee couldn’t bring herself to carry the tale to Chase like some gossip. And then there was her stepmother, demanding her presence. She put a hand to her head and hurried for the house.

She pulled up short when she found Chase waiting for her just down the corridor. He was leaning against the paneled wall and even in the dim light she could see that he had paled. Her fears for Algernon instantly evaporated.

“My lord,” she cried, rushing to his side. “You should be sitting down.”

He managed a smile. “Nonsense. I must push myself if I’m to recover.” He lowered his voice. “I wanted to talk to you before you met with your stepmother. She wishes you to return to the inn immediately.”

Meredee’s heart plummeted. She wanted to dig her fingers into the folds of his navy coat, refuse to let go. For a moment, in this house, she’d felt truly needed, truly wanted. But this was not her home, and she had a duty to her family.

“Then I suppose I had better go gather my things,” she said, holding herself stiffly.

“We have been through a great deal, you and I,” he murmured, watching her. “It emboldens me to ask an impertinence. When you return to the inn, will it be as a servant to Mrs. Price?”

She should deny it. She had some pride. But he had allowed her to shoulder his weakness. Could she do any less?

“In essence, yes,” she admitted, then hurried on. “But you mustn’t think badly of her. It’s just her way.”

“And have I been any better?” He took her hand and intertwined their fingers. The brush of his skin against hers sent tremors through her, but she couldn’t pull away from the warmth.

“You were ill,” she murmured. “You needed me.”

“I begin to think I always will.”

Meredee’s breath caught. She could barely look at him, afraid to find she was wrong yet again. “You are too kind.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it. Tell me, Meredee, would you prefer to stay a while longer?”

Nothing would have pleased her more, but she couldn’t. Oh, she couldn’t. He was well enough that he no longer needed a nurse. She had no reason to linger.

“I cannot stay. Please don’t ask me. We both know it would be unseemly.”

“I could have a relapse.”

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t say that.” Meeting his gaze, she saw his grin and blushed. “That’s quite enough, sir! The Lord may see fit to grant that petition, and what would we do then?”

“Continue as we have, with you reading me love poetry.”

“Oh! I’m certain I never …”

“‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,’” he quoted. “’Thou art more lovely and more temperate.’”

“I most certainly never read you that!”

“Perhaps I dreamed it then. Or perhaps I should read it to you.”

She did not understand his mood. His mouth quirked as if he joked, yet the intensity of his blue gaze was serious, commanding. “I wish you wouldn’t tease me,” she murmured. “If you have something to say, say it outright.”

She nearly cried out when he released her hand. “May I call on you at the inn?”

“Yes, of course! Oh!” And run into Algernon? How was she to prevent that?

“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Is there some reason you’d prefer I stay away?”

Never! Against all odds, against all reason, he wanted to call on her, perhaps to court her. She might have a chance at a future with this wondrous man. How could she refuse him? Yet how could she chance him running across her stepbrother?

She squared her shoulders. “No reason, my lord, expect a minor impediment I am assured will resolve itself shortly. I should be delighted to receive you whenever you choose to call.”

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against it. She closed her eyes, allowing herself merely to feel for a moment, to breathe against the sensations rushing through her.

“Tomorrow afternoon, I think,” he said, and she opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. “If I’m not well enough by then, you’ll simply have to return to nurse me.”

“Either way, then,” Meredee said, returning his smile, “I will see you tomorrow.”

“You have been terribly missed,” Mrs. Price lamented as their coach carried her and Meredee back to the inn. “I could not get the inn wife to understand how I like my eggs, and no one knows how to soothe my headaches as you do.”

Once she would have been pleased to know she had been so helpful. Now she merely wanted to sit and dream of what might be. She could imagine her self walking the sands with Chase, attending the assembly on his arm, sitting across the table from him at dinner speaking of science, of philosophy.

Oh, Father, I never knew how much I wanted these things. Is it wrong? I thought I understood the path You wanted for my life. Now I want more.

Her stepmother was happy to prattle on, barely pausing on occasion for Meredee to murmur agreement. Mrs. Price didn’t seem to notice any change in
her stepdaughter. Meredee could only wonder why it wasn’t written on her face, shining from her eyes.

She was in love with Chase Dearborn, Earl of Allyndale.

And he might, oh he might, be in love with her! How could she sit still? She wanted to dance about the little sitting room, throw her hands up in the air, twirl in a circle of joy.

Mrs. Price, however, seemed determined that the world progress as it always had. She sat in her chair by the table and took up her lace pillow again. The book Meredee had been reading sat in the same place at the end of the table; the ribbon marked the same page.

The room suddenly felt small, cramped. She needed air.

“When do you expect Algernon to return?” Meredee asked, wandering to the window and gazing out at the rear yard of the inn. Beyond her, houses rose to the top of the hill, the creamy walls gleaming in the summer sun. Still the feeling of being trapped persisted.

“I’m sure I couldn’t say,” Mrs. Price replied with a shake of her head. “He’s been cavorting all over town while you’ve been gone, on occasion with his intended.”

Meredee turned with a frown. “With Lady Phoebe? I had no idea she’d left the house.”

“Not that easy to chaperone a young girl, is it?”
Mrs. Price said, levering her needle at Meredee. “You can be sure she was careful to slip away unnoticed. Clever girl, I’ll give her that.”

Clever, but certainly not thinking clearly. Did she truly believe someone wouldn’t mention her behavior to Chase? Or was the girl trying to force a confrontation between her brother and Algernon?

“And Algernon?” Meredee asked, crossing to the table. “Is he happy with these arrangements?”

“As happy as may be,” Mrs. Price replied, threading the needle once more through her pattern and drawing the thread tight. “I do believe he intends to offer for Lady Phoebe as soon as her brother is well enough to receive him.”

Relief, like a draught of cool water, washed over Meredee. No more skulking around! No more half-truths. “Oh, that would be wonderful!”

“I suppose.” Mrs. Price heaved a sigh and started another row. “Though what is to become of us I’m sure I don’t know.”

Meredee perched on the chair with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I very much doubt Algernon’s wife will want two other women hanging about. Depend on it—she will insist that we find alternative lodging. Your father left him the town house, you know.”

Of course, she knew that. She’d simply never considered the ramifications of Algernon marrying. Her home, gone? Her room, belonging to someone else?
What of her father’s library, the books and books of literature, science, history and philosophy? Was she never to read them again?

She must have looked as stricken as she felt, for Mrs. Price stuck her needle in the lace pillow and reached out to pat her hand. “There, now—never fear. We will always have each other.”

That prospect did not seem so very encouraging at the moment. But her stepmother was right—Lady Phoebe of all people would not stand to have anyone else but her run her household.

“But what if I marry?” Meredee asked, gaze rising.

Mrs. Price removed her hand and trilled a laugh. “You, marry? Once perhaps, but you are firmly on the shelf now, my dear.”

The words would have hurt a great deal more a few days ago. Now she wanted to shout—
You’re wrong! He loves me!
But Chase hadn’t said those words, had made her no promises, so she didn’t dare confess her hopes.

“Though I suppose I may find a suitable match myself,” her stepmother continued, oblivious to Meredee’s roiling emotions. “Colonel Williams has been most attentive.” She patted her gray curls.

Meredee couldn’t stay in this room another minute without bursting out in some inappropriate comment. She rose and shook out her skirts. “I believe the tide will be at its lowest in a quarter hour this afternoon.
If you’ll excuse me, I should see if I can find Father’s shell.”

“What?” Mrs. Price hopped to her feet, tumbling her pillow to the floor. “No! You’ve only just returned to me, and I will not have you running off again, particularly for so feeble a reason.”

“Do you intend to make me a prisoner, then?” Meredee asked, struggling with her temper. “It seems you have already determined to make me a slave.”

“A slave! Well, I never!” She sank back onto the seat, face crumbling, lips quivering. “Go, then,” she said with a wave of her hand, gaze on the tabletop. “Go chase your shells. I’m sure they mean much more to you than I do.”

Meredee was tempted. Fears and hopes crowded her in equal measure. After dealing with Lady Phoebe, she was fairly sure that at least part of her stepmother’s lamenting was posturing meant to manipulate her. Yet one look at the tears trickling down her stepmother’s soft face, and she knew it wasn’t all posturing. She knelt on the floor and took her hands.

“Dearest, you know I care for you. When Father brought you home, I was the happiest of girls because I was to have a mother again.”

Mrs. Price sighed. “I was never old enough to be your mother, but those were good times. How lovely you looked at your come-out. Your father and I were so proud.” She sucked back a sob. “But then it was all
ruined! Why did he leave us with no security? Why do all my husbands disappoint me so?”

Was that why her stepmother clung so tightly to the pursestrings, why she clung so tightly to Meredee? She was afraid of being destitute, being alone. Meredee knew those same feelings. She’d lived through them with her mother’s death, her captain’s death and her father’s. Each time, she was certain she’d never recover from the blow. Each time, she’d risen, stronger.

You got me through those times, Lord. Forgive me for not seeing it until now.

“You are not alone,” she said, squeezing her stepmother’s hands. “And Algernon would never let you starve.”

“Not intentionally,” her stepmother agreed. “But he is not the most dependable of sons. I never know when he’ll take some maggot in his brain. Just look at that hideous red coat he insists upon. He looks like he should be riding to hounds or marching in the infantry!”

“He simply has his own sense of fashion,” Meredee protested.

“And is it any better than a child’s?”

She could not answer that question. She wanted to believe that her stepbrother had grown up and was ready to shoulder his responsibilities, to his mother, to his wife, to her.

“He cannot remain a child,” Meredee said, “if he plans to marry and raise a family.”

“A family that does not include us. We’ll be left to fend for ourselves.” She pulled her hands away and cupped Meredee’s face, fingers gentle against her skin. “Do you see why I dote on you? Two husbands buried, a son I dare not lean on? You are the only reliable person around me, Meredee. I do not know how to get on without you! So please, no more talk of slaves. If anyone in this family is trapped in a life she did not choose, I fear it’s me.”

Meredee wrapped her arms around her then and held her while she cried out her concerns. The knowledge that her stepmother’s harsh words and unkind actions were driven by fear made them easier to forgive. Yet surely forgiveness was not enough. Her stepmother needed assurances that she’d be cared for, that, whatever happened, she was loved.