The Irresistible Earl. Regina Scott

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      “Mother, please,” Algernon said. “Meredee is the best sister a fellow could ask. I probably wouldn’t be alive without her wise counsel.” He walked to the chair and knelt in front of her, forcing Meredee to meet his gaze.

      “Have I asked too much of you?” he said softly. “Is it such a terrible duty to go to a fine house, eat fine food, be treated like the lady you were meant to be?”

      Meredee felt tears burning her eyes, and she dashed them away with one hand. “You make it sound like a party, but all I see is a battle.”

      “And who better suited to go into battle on the side of righteousness than my brave sister?” he insisted. “Who nursed Father through two years of pain and suffering? Who helped Mother see him buried? Who even now keeps us all from going mad in times of trouble?”

      “Kind words,” Meredee countered with a sniff. “But they would be much more convincing if they hadn’t been uttered from behind a face covered in foam.”

      Algernon barked a laugh and rose. “See? I knew you’d come around.” He strode to the washstand, picked up the linen towel hanging there and wiped off his face. “So, you’ll do it?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. “You’ll have dinner with Lord Allyndale and see what you can learn?”

      Meredee sighed. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll go pen a note to the earl right now. May God have mercy on us all.”

      Chase could not shake the feeling that something wasn’t aboveboard with the redoubtable Miss Price. She’d run from him at the beach as if the very forces of hell were at her heels. In his experience, a person who ran had a reason.

      What was hers?

      A few pointed questions of the crowd before he took Phoebe home were enough to learn Miss Price’s direction. He thought about her actions all the way home and wasn’t surprised when a boy brought a politely penned note from her accepting his invitation to dine. Even in writing Miss Price evinced none of the sentiment his mother and sister preferred. An intriguing woman. Surely a call at the Bell Inn would not be too much attention for the woman who had saved his sister’s life.

      He had just started out from the house he had rented for the summer when he spotted Sir Trevor Fitzwilliam coming up the drive. He hadn’t stopped to think when he’d invited his friend to join him and Phoebe in Scarborough. He and Trev had both had reasons for wanting to avoid London for a time. Now it struck him as singularly good luck that he had someone as savvy as Trevor in train.

      “Out for a ride?” Trev asked, back straight as a soldier’s in his navy coat. He patted his horse, Icarus, on the neck.

      “I’m on an errand,” Chase replied. “But you’re welcome to join me. In fact, I’d appreciate your insights.”

      Trevor’s green eyes lit, and he pulled the black gelding in alongside Chase’s bay mare. “What’s the to do? A new tract of land? A faster horse? A better coat?”

      “My estate is larger than needed, my horse is fast enough and there’s nothing wrong with my coat,” Chase countered.

      Trevor adjusted his top hat on his dark head and avoided looking at Chase’s bottle-green coat. “As you say.”

      “Much more of that, and you can whistle for your supper.”

      “Don’t I usually?” Trev replied, with an edge of itterness Chase could not like. Trevor’s desires frequently outstripped his pockets. Chase was more than happy to house and feed the friend he’d known since his school days, but he suspected that Trevor chafed at the kindness. That was one of the reasons the baronet had begun taking on inquiries for society, to avoid living on his friends’ largesse.

      As they rode through the cobbled streets among elegant town houses and square stone inns, Chase filled him in on the afternoon’s adventure.

      “And I take it the lady piqued your interest,” Trevor said as they rounded the corner and sighted the Bell Inn just ahead.

      Chase shrugged. “There’s more to the woman than strength and vitality.”

      Trev’s dark brows shot up. “Strength? Vitality? Do you speak of a woman or a horse you’re considering purchasing?”

      “A lady to be sure,” Chase answered with a smile. “But something about her doesn’t set right.”

      “Of what do you suspect her?”

      Chase scowled at him. “Am I that much of a tyrant that I must suspect everyone I see of dark motives?”

      Trevor merely eyed him.

      Chase sighed. “Very well, I admit that I wondered why she of all the people acted. At least a dozen women were bathing this afternoon along the shore, with a similar number of women assisting them. Why did she alone rush to Phoebe’s aid?”

      “Perhaps she sought to bring herself to your notice, ingratiate herself to the Dearborn family.”

      “And what a coxcomb I am to suspect it, I know.”

      “You have cause,” Trevor said quietly.

      Chase shifted his weight on the saddle. He didn’t need the reminder of how one man had nearly destroyed his sister. He would not let anyone hurt Phoebe. You honored me with intelligence, strength, and resources, Lord. Give me the wisdom to use them.

      They rode into the coaching yard of the Bell Inn, a respectable two-story stone building with flower boxes under the multipaned windows. The common room inside was neat and clean. The polished oak tables and ladder-backed chairs welcomed visitors to chat before the rough-stone hearth taking up much of the left wall. A word to the landlord was enough to see their horses stabled and tankards placed before them in a quiet private parlor while they waited for a boy to take word up to Miss Price and her stepmother. Miss Price returned alone, in a remarkably short time, hurrying through the door as if keeping Chase waiting was the worst sin imaginable.

      She still wore the blue dress, though she’d had time to wind her hair up into a braided coronet that suited her. She dipped a quick curtsey. “Lord Allyndale. We didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”

      Chase bowed over her hand and found it trembling. Was he such a fearsome thing then? He glanced at Trevor, but his friend was frowning. He took a step back and bumped Trev’s leg on purpose. “May I present my good friend, Sir Trevor Fitzwilliam, baronet?”

      She curtsied again, and Trev wiped the frown from his face and bowed. “Forgive the interruption, Miss Price,” he said as he straightened, “but I had to thank you personally for saving Lady Phoebe’s life. The Dearborns have been good friends for years, and I take your assistance as a personal favor.”

      Putting it on a little thick, Chase thought. But Miss Price merely lowered her gaze to the shine of Trev’s black high-topped boots.

      “You are too kind,” she murmured. “I’m sure Lady Phoebe must have realized by now how little I did to help her.”

      “On the contrary,” Chase assured her, “she is effusive in her praise. You have made a conquest, Miss Price.”

      She looked up then, meeting his gaze, and once more СКАЧАТЬ