The Irresistible Earl. Regina Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ a cheer went up. Meredee blinked into nearly two dozen faces. It seemed as if every notable touring the crescent of the beach had heard Lady Phoebe’s cries and watched Meredee’s rescue. Now they gathered from the spa house at the southern tip to the lighthouse sheltering under the watchful eye of Scarborough Castle, just to congratulate her.

      She wanted to shrink back into the box. She was supposed to help Algernon remain in hiding, keep from calling undue attention to themselves. What had she done?

      Mrs. Price did not seem worried. She preened at the attention, patting her damp gray tresses and putting on a long-suffering smile. “Yes, yes, dreadful, isn’t it?” she lamented to the plump countess in breezy white muslin who was the first to step forward. “I’m certain the poor girl would have drowned if I hadn’t directed Meredee to rescue her.”

      Meredee could only wish for rescue herself. Sun hot on her cheeks, she had to give an accounting of her stunning heroism to a country squire from Devonshire, an Italian nobleman, two knights of the bath with wives in tow and a silk merchant from Carlisle before another man elbowed his way to the front. He was tall and powerfully built, with hair nearly the color of the sands and eyes like the North Sea. The others stepped aside when they saw that he was interested in questioning her. From the scowl on his craggy face, she would have been tempted to flee as well, if Lady Phoebe hadn’t been at his side.

      Though the girl could not have reached the shore much sooner, she had traded her flannel bathing costume for a high-waisted muslin gown embroidered all over with yellow daisies. Her damp hair curled into waves around her lovely face. Meredee, in her simple blue cotton gown, hair in a braid down her back, felt like a country cousin beside her.

      “I simply had to thank you again, Miss Price,” the girl declared in awed tones. “And so did my brother. Mrs. Price, Miss Meredee Price, may I present my brother, Chase Dearborn, Lord Allyndale.”

      Chase watched as both women blanched. Mrs. Price went so far as to take a step back, but Miss Price’s hand on her arm kept her from fleeing. Though he knew a few men who would run at the sight of him, he couldn’t recall a time when a lady felt the need to escape.

      And they were certainly ladies. In fact, Mrs. Price reminded him of his late mother—high jutting cheekbones; long aristocratic nose; narrow, elegant frame. But he had never met anyone quite like Meredee Price. She had the thick golden hair and wise gray eyes of a Saxon princess, yet the impressive curves of a heroine in one of Botticelli’s paintings. He could easily imagine her lifting the fragile Phoebe from the waves, or riding into battle against the Norse forces.

      She dropped her gaze, dipped a quick curtsy and spoke in soft tones, with a musical lilt. “An honor to meet you, my lord. But I wish you would not dwell on what happened in the waves. It was truly nothing.”

      The rest of the crowd insisted on her heroism, which only set her cheeks to blushing. Was she truly a shy, retiring creature, then? And why did that so disappoint him? After meeting any number of young society misses while escorting his sister, he’d resigned himself to being surrounded by shy, retiring creatures.

      “Nothing!” Phoebe cried, reaching out to snatch up Meredee’s hand and press it close. “How can you say that! I could not live with myself unless I found a way to thank you properly. You saved my life!”

      Normally Chase would have stepped in to temper his sister’s unbounded enthusiasm, but in this case he rather thought she had the right to it. Despite his efforts to raise his sister, who was twelve years his junior, the girl seemed to invite disaster. He hadn’t been able to see her from where he had waited along the shore, but he’d heard Phoebe’s cries for help and could well believe it had taken Miss Price’s intervention to save his sister.

      “Please allow me to thank you property for your kindness, Miss Price,” he said as the poor lady visibly squirmed in Phoebe’s fervent grip. “We’ve rented a house here in Scarborough for the summer. Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow night, along with your mother, of course.”

      “I am not her mother,” Mrs. Price put in, laying a hand on the woman’s arm and acting as if she would tug her away from Phoebe. “And I think we truly must go.”

      Meredee Price did not seem agitated to find herself the rope in the middle of a tug-of-war contest. “What my stepmother means,” she said calmly, gaze rising to meet his and serving to fix him in his place, “is that we haven’t decided how long we’ll be staying in Scarborough. We may depart this very afternoon. I’ll send word if we’re able to accept your kind invitation.”

      He’d been mistaken. No Saxon princess this, but clearly the queen and just as regal. He inclined his head in acceptance of her dismissal, but Phoebe’s face crumpled. “Oh, but you can’t leave! I just know we’ll be the best of friends!”

      Miss Price’s smile was a gentle quirk of her peach-colored lips. “Then I’m certain our friendship will survive any absence. Good day, Lady Phoebe, my lord.”

      Chase could see the protest building in the stubborn set to Phoebe’s little chin. He refused to allow her to stage a greater scene than she had already done. He took Miss Price’s hand from his sister’s and bowed over it. “Your devoted servant, Miss Price.”

      She curtsied more fully this time, and when she rose he was surprised to see a shadow cross her eyes, like a raven swooping across storm clouds. Although Phoebe and Mrs. Price made their farewells in polite tones, Chase didn’t think it was his imagination that Meredee Price’s grip on her stepmother’s arm was every bit as fevered as Phoebe’s as they hurried up the beach for the shops and houses beyond.

      He only wondered who she was running away from—Phoebe or him.

      Chapter Two

      “What were you thinking?” Mrs. Price lamented as they hurried along the crowded streets that led through the town. “We cannot dine with Lord Allyndale! We daren’t stay in Scarborough another minute! Oh, my poor Algernon—hunted from pillar to post!”

      “Calm yourself,” Meredee said with assurance she was far from feeling. “Lord Allyndale obviously saw no connection between us and the Algernon Whitaker who so offended him.”

      “Well, of course not,” Mrs. Price huffed. “Nor would he have noticed us if you hadn’t made a spectacle of yourself!”

      Meredee bit back a retort. Angry words would do none of them any good now. She had only been trying to help. And even if she had known the girl was the sister of Algernon’s sworn enemy, she wouldn’t have let Lady Phoebe struggle. She’d never been able to overlook the pain or fear of others; it was in her very nature to offer help when it was needed.

      “Be that as it may,” she said, leading her stepmother past the shops overflowing with bright fabrics, exotic scents and fine literature, “we have been discovered. We have only to explain the situation to Algernon, and I’m certain he’ll see the wisdom of escaping.”

      Mrs. Price nodded and said no more, as if she needed her breath to climb the remaining way up the hill to the Bell Inn, where they had taken rooms. Meredee was just as glad for her silence. She could not stop thinking about their meeting with Lord Allyndale.

      When Algernon had confided to her a fortnight ago in their London town house that he feared Allyndale would challenge him to a duel, the man he’d described had been a monster. “He’s completely unreasonable,” he’d fretted, pacing about the yellow silk–draped bedchamber that had been hers since she had finished her schooling. “There’s no use talking СКАЧАТЬ