Regina Scott (17 page)

Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.

“You are not alone,” Meredee repeated. “We will determine the future together.”

Her stepmother sniffed. “Even if you marry?”

Meredee’s arms tightened. She could not speak for Chase, yet she was certain that, if he loved her, he’d find some way to settle her stepmother. Lord knew he had enough experience dealing with the temperamental Phoebe.

“Even if I marry,” she promised. “And I will speak to Algernon. He holds all our futures in his
hands—yours, mine and Lady Phoebe’s. He must be made to live up to his responsibilities.”

“And if he won’t?” her stepmother asked, raising her head.

“If he won’t listen to me,” Meredee said, determination building, “I may know the very person he will not dare to cross.”

C
hase went to sleep early that night. He had expected to be exhausted after his first day up, but, in truth, it was not weariness that drove him to bed. Trevor had come to escort Phoebe to the Assembly Rooms for the evening, and Chase could feel the house around him, quiet, empty.

Lonely.

He had never thought of himself as a lonely man. He kept busy attending to his estate, his duties in Parliament and Phoebe’s needs. He generally found time to ride, to read, to attend the occasional opera. But until this illness, he’d never realized how pleasant it was to have someone else who could share those duties and pastimes, provide opinions or simply listen to him as he developed his own.

He’d never realized how much he needed someone like Meredee.

No, not someone like her, he corrected himself
as he lay on the bed, gaze on the underside of the box bed’s canopy. What he needed
was
Meredee. She was intelligent, she was caring. She consistently, relentlessly put others before herself. It was a trait he knew the Lord intended for all His followers, yet she seemed to embody it more than anyone he’d ever met.

Moreover, she made life interesting and far less vexing. She was calm, she was capable, yet always beneath her exterior was the hint of amusement. Her peachy lips would quirk whenever Phoebe said something absurd, whenever Chase became too entrenched in his opinions. He had never really listed the attributes he sought in a bride, but he wasn’t surprised to find that, when he considered the matter now, Meredee held every one.

The question then was what he intended to do about it.

He was still ill, despite daily doses of the so-called miraculous spa waters. Perhaps he’d always be ill. He’d been afraid to trust anyone with the secret, but Meredee had dealt with the situation with laudable aplomb.

Phoebe was still Phoebe, with all her demands and chaotic moods. Yet she seemed better with Meredee, more focused, more easily encouraged to better behavior. And, even when Phoebe was behaving at her worst, Meredee had a way of keeping the situation from becoming explosive.

So, could he do it? Could he marry now, despite his family issues and his health?

Only to Meredee.

He closed his eyes. He’d ask her tomorrow when he visited. He liked to think he wasn’t a vain man, but the look in her eyes when she gazed at him, her breathlessness when their hands touched, told him she admired him. And he certainly offered her more than her stepmother ever could.

He would propose, Meredee would agree and they would make plans for their future. And if she fell into his arms for a few moments in between, well, that was only to be expected. The thought allowed him to drift off to sleep with a smile.

Algernon did not go to bed nearly as early. Though Meredee waited up for him, he came in after she’d fallen asleep in the chair. Though she woke early with a crick in her neck, he had already gone out.

“I begin to think he’s avoiding us,” Meredee complained to her stepmother over breakfast in the sitting room after she’d had the maid help her into her white muslin gown with the embroidered yellow overcoat.

“He cannot do so for long,” Mrs. Price assured her, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I’m sure in the next day or so, we shall bring him to ground.”

Meredee set down her own cup. “We must find him today. Lord Allyndale said he would visit this after
noon. With no warning, Algernon could well be here when he arrives.”

Mrs. Price paled. “And they could duel! Oh, my poor boy!”

“We will scour the town,” Meredee promised. “Scarborough is not so large that Algernon can escape us.”

Indeed, they heard word of Algernon the moment they set foot in the spa house a short while later.

“Mr. Whitaker is a very interesting gentleman,” Mrs. Barriston interjected when Meredee asked another woman about her stepbrother. The dark-haired wife of the governor of the spa narrowed her eyes as if she had sighted her quarry. “He and Lady Phoebe Dearborn make a very attractive couple. Shall we be hearing more soon?”

“La, who can say?” Mrs. Price returned with a panicked glance to Meredee.

“You might caution him that he is not alone in appreciating Lady Phoebe’s charms,” Mrs. Barriston advised. “Sir Trevor Fitzwilliam has been most attentive of late, and only this morning a Mr. Victor Delacorte from London asked after her.”

Meredee felt as if the air had thinned. “Victor Delacorte? You’re certain?”

Mrs. Barriston raised her dark brows as if astonished that anyone would question her knowledge. “Of course I’m certain, Miss Price. A fine-looking
man with exceptional manners, unlike some I could name.”

Meredee ignored the barb. “Have you told anyone else—the earl? Sir Trevor?”

The governor’s wife pointed her long nose at Meredee, eyes lighting. “No. Should I?”

“Assuredly!” Meredee met her gaze. “If you see Lord Allyndale or his friend, you must tell them, Mrs. Barriston. This is one story they would greatly appreciate.”

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Price whispered as Meredee grabbed her arm and hurried her away. Why encourage her to gossip? Who is this Delacorte fellow?”

“I cannot explain,” Meredee said, steering her toward the path to the beach. “Suffice it to say that now it is even more important that we find Algernon and Lady Phoebe.”

Mrs. Price clutched her beaded reticule in front of her blue-striped walking dress. “But I thought you wished Lord Allyndale to know about this Delacorte. Shouldn’t we tell him first?”

Meredee stopped so quickly her stepmother stumbled past her. What should she do? Chase needed to know that Victor Delacorte was in Scarborough and asking after Phoebe. But if Phoebe’s previous swain found her first, who knew what kind of trouble he’d cause? Chase was in no condition to stop him, but she
didn’t like thinking what would happen if Algernon tried.

Sending up a quick prayer for help, she took a deep breath. “Algernon must be our first concern,” she said when her stepmother eyed her, clearly confused. “Very likely he is with Lady Phoebe. If we find him, we can warn them both.”

“Warn them about what?” Mrs. Price demanded, but Meredee set off once more, and she could only follow.

The sands were thronged with promenading fashionables, but though Meredee and Mrs. Price nodded greetings and hurried along, they caught no sight of Lady Phoebe or Algernon. Each person they passed, each parasol they peered under, Meredee’s fears rose. Where could Algernon be? Had Delacorte accosted Lady Phoebe?

At the end of the promenade, Meredee stepped back up onto the pavement at the edge of the harbor and craned her neck. It should have been easy to spot a bright coat among the more traditional navy and green and tan. If nothing else, she would know Lady Phoebe’s giggle a mile away.

Lord, help us! We only want to keep them safe!

“Mrs. Price, Miss Price,” Sir Trevor called in greeting, strolling up to them and tipping his high-crowned beaver with a ready smile that revealed a dimple in his square-jawed face. “And where are you lovely ladies heading this fine day?”

She very nearly hugged him. Instead, she affixed her stepmother with a determined glare. “Wait here.”

Mrs. Price opened her mouth in an O of surprise, but Meredee grabbed the sleeve of Sir Trevor’s dove-gray coat and pulled him away from her stepmother up the street. “There’s no time for an explanation,” she said. “I understand you know the story about the Dearborns and Victor Delacorte.”

All affability fled. He jerked her to a stop. His chin came down, his stance widened and his green eyes were chips of jade. “How do you know that story?”

He obviously expected her to cower; she refused. “Lord Allyndale told me. I just learned that Delacorte is here, in Scarborough. He was asking after Lady Phoebe at the spa this morning.”

His dark brows gathered. “He’s asking after Lady Phoebe? Not Lord Allyndale?”

Meredee nodded. “I’ve been trying to find her to warn her.”

“What a kind soul you are to be sure.” There was no warmth to the praise. “But why did you have to search for her? She left the house earlier today while I was exercising my horse. I was certain the staff said she had gone to visit you.”

Meredee shook her head. “I knew nothing of a visit. We left the inn earlier this morning for the spa.”

“So you wish me to believe that Lady Phoebe is
wandering around Scarborough alone, with Delacorte on the loose?”

The thought sent a shiver through her. She could not let him carry such a tale to Chase. “No. I have reason to believe she’s escorted by a gentleman named Algernon Whitaker.”

His laugh sounded forced. “The day could not get better. Do you know Whitaker?”

“Yes,” Meredee admitted cautiously.

“Good. Find him. Bring him and Lady Phoebe back to the Dearborns’ house. Leave Delacorte to me.”

By the glint in his eye, she thought Algernon had gotten off easy.

“What was that about?” Mrs. Price asked when Sir Trevor had strode off up the street.

“The baronet is going to help us,” Meredee replied, leading her stepmother in the opposite direction.

Mrs. Price smiled coyly, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Well, of course he is. I knew that boy was fascinated with me. After all, he recognized how much we look like sisters!”

They tried the shops next, then the Assembly Rooms on Long Street. In both places, they encountered acquaintances who had seen Algernon, but not recently. And more than one wished to know if they might expect to hear an announcement about him and Lady Phoebe.

“At this rate,” Meredee told Mrs. Price as they left,
“his friends in London will know his intentions before Lord Allyndale!”

“What can he be thinking?” Mrs. Price wailed. “If merely asking in private to court the girl gained him an invitation to a duel, what good can come from pursuing her in public?”

“He’s trying to force Lord Allyndale’s hand,” Meredee guessed. “If the entire town expects a marriage, he thinks Lord Allyndale will not dare refuse him. But he severely underestimates the earl’s determination to protect his sister.”

And he could not know how much Phoebe needed protection. Meredee could appreciate why Chase felt so frustrated with the girl, for she was equally frustrated with Algernon. She wanted nothing so much as to shake some sense into her stepbrother. He might not know that Delacorte posed a danger, but had Algernon no thought as to what would happen if he failed to gain Chase’s approval to marry Lady Phoebe? Her reputation was sure to be damaged. And he could have no way of knowing that he was threatening Meredee’s future, as well. She had no doubt that if Chase discovered Algernon before her stepbrother professed his intentions, Chase would wish both Algernon and Meredee to perdition.

And they would deserve it.

What had started as a way to protect her stepbrother had become a horrid game she had no wish to play. If her stepbrother could not be found, or worse,
could not be made to see reason, she would tell Chase herself when he came calling later this afternoon.

The very thought of telling him hurried her steps and knotted her stomach. She thought their discussion about his rejection of Lady Phoebe’s suitors had given him a new perspective. But how would he react knowing she’d kept Algernon’s presence in Scarborough a secret from him, especially now that the secret might be putting Phoebe’s future in danger?

“Will…you…slow…down?” Mrs. Price panted, hand on her side as if she nursed a stitch. “Never…find him…at this rate.”

Meredee stopped and apologized and let her stepmother catch her breath.

“I’m fine,” she insisted with a wave when Meredee expressed concern. “But I could cheerfully strangle Algernon for this. He owes me a new pair of shoes!”

“There is one other place we could try,” Meredee ventured. “I doubt he’d take Lady Phoebe there, but they may know his direction.”

But even Algernon’s tailor, when they ventured into that hallowed establishment, had no idea how to find him.

“Though I am told,” the tall elegant tailor said with a smile, “that I may shortly have the honor of creating a wedding suit for Mr. Whitaker.”

Meredee pulled Mrs. Price out of the shop before he could question them.

“We should return to the inn,” Mrs. Price insisted. “He must come home to dine.”

But the bell for the Ordinary sounded promptly at two, and still her stepbrother stayed away. Meredee barely tasted the salmon with dill sauce and the cold roast beef.

She was going to have to tell Chase herself.

She waited on the hard-backed chair in the sitting room. The clock downstairs chimed the hour. She felt as if it tolled her doom. Every hope, every dream, was about to be dealt a death blow. Algneron and Lady Phoebe could be in danger at that very moment. And she had no idea how to stop it.

Mrs. Price, who had been working on her lace, set the pillow on the table. “I shall stay with you when he comes.”

Meredee shook her head, the movement painful, as if her whole body was encased in lead. “No. If he’s going to be furious, I’d rather you not witness it.”

Mrs. Price’s eyes widened. “Do you think he would do you a violence? Refuse to see him!”

“You mistake me. I believe he will say nothing do not deserve to hear. I’d simply prefer to hear it alone.”

She thought her stepmother might argue, but Mrs. Price nodded and returned to her work. “Just remember,” she said, weaving a line of thread with her needle, “this is all Algernon’s fault. If he cannot be
bothered to clean up his own mess, I see no reason why you should.”

Meredee raised her brows. “You surprise me. I thought surely you’d advise me to protect Algernon at all costs.”

She snipped off a thread with little silver scissors. “Algernon has not shown himself capable of putting my needs first. You are rather good at that. Of course I must favor you in this instance.”

“Of course,” Meredee said with a wry smile.

She nearly jumped off her seat when, a few moments later, a servant rapped on the door and opened it to admit Chase.

She drank in the sight of him. She fancied there were a few more lines on his craggy face, but they only lent it a greater distinction. He stood tall, strong, his blue eyes bright, his sandy-haired head high, every bit the earl. She wanted to reach out, gather him close, memorize the scent of him, the feel of him.