Regina Scott, page 10
The sunlight from the window gleamed on the dozens of shells nestled in velvet-lined compartments. There was the red queen scallop from Cornwall. Each time she looked at it she thought about the time her father had taken her and her mother to that lonely coast and she’d seen the huge Atlantic for the first time, her tiny hand held safely in her mother’s.
Then there was the large razor clam, looking like it had been bronzed already, from the coast of Scotland. Her father had found the massive specimen while he and Mrs. Price were on their wedding journey. It was the only shell in the collection that her stepmother was willing to praise.
In the center, a single compartment remained empty. The scrap of parchment tacked to the bottom read, “tellina incarnata.” Her father’s legacy, her life, could be told in these shells. Unfinished. Waiting.
She knew she should have tried harder to find the shell. She should have insisted that they return to Scarborough sooner. But a part of her was just as loath as her stepmother to visit the place again, to open herself to memories that sometimes proved painful. And how could she regret waiting until yesterday to hunt in the North Bay, when yesterday she’d spent the time with Chase?
How he’d grinned through the morning. She still could not believe he’d stayed at her side. A few of her friends had gone hunting with her and her father over the years. They’d never gone more than once, and they’d never stayed more than a few minutes before losing interest and finding better game.
But Chase had seemed sincerely pleased with the process. He’d asked questions about each shell they discovered, and twice she saw him pocket a particularly lovely specimen she knew her father had already collected. He never found excuses to head back to the shade of the trees; he never urged her to hurry. Until Lady Phoebe had disappeared, he’d seemed completely content.
They’d been poking around a tidal pool yesterday when a thin stream of water had spurted up from the depths. He’d hopped back to save his boots, then peered closer.
“What was that?”
Meredee looked closer, too. Nestled in the little pool were any number of creatures and plants, from the golden flowers of sea mats to clumps of purple coralline algae. A spider crab hurried away from her gaze, as if he had important places to go. “I suspect those are your culprits, my lord.”
He gazed down at the cluster of translucent tubes clinging to the darker rocks. They seemed to sway in the breeze, and once in a while clear water shot from the openings.
“Amazing,” he said, as if he’d been the first to discover them. “What are these creatures? Have they been catalogued?”
Meredee smiled. “Oh, very likely. They are called sea squirts. They are scraped on a regular basis from pilings and wharves around the Empire.”
He chuckled at that. “Well, I still say they look like clever little fellows.”
“They are very clever. It takes very little for them to be content. They cling tenaciously to any little outcropping, be it wood or stone or metal, and collect their food from particles in the seawater.”
Was that what she’d become, she wondered now. A creature clinging blindly to a family who wanted nothing but to scrape her off?
It hadn’t always been this way. When her father had first told her he planned to marry again, to a widow with a nearly grown son, she’d been ecstatic. A family at last! For a time, they were a family. Algernon had always been up for a lark, ready to squire her about. Her father had thought the sun rose and set on him. Mrs. Price had been delighted to see Meredee dressed in the latest styles, to take her to balls and routs, to introduce Meredee to her acquaintances as her husband’s daughter. She’d listened at night when Meredee poured out her sorrows about a beau who hadn’t come up to scratch and, when Meredee had lost the one man she’d thought she might have married, her stepmother had cried along with her.
And then Meredee’s father had fallen ill, and everything had changed.
At first she’d served beside her stepmother because she wanted to be with her father. Then she’d served Mrs. Price because the woman had been even more distraught than Meredee at the loss of Mr. Price. What had started as an act of love had gradually become a duty and then a chore. Algernon and his mother were completely comfortable with the idea that Meredee was meant to serve.
And Meredee hadn’t argued. There was comfort in being needed, honor in being useful. She felt rather noble soothing tempers, aiding plans, encouraging dreams. Being helpful was the only reason anyone ever praised her. She’d never questioned that role, until she met Chase Dearborn, Lord Allyndale. She’d packaged her heart in a neat little case, just like her father’s shells, safely hidden from the world. Chase had blown off the dust, opened the catches and looked deep inside. Would he see the beauty nestled there?
Lord, show me the way. I feel so lost.
The rap on her door brought her head up.
“Meredee?” Algernon’s voice sounded concerned. “Please let me in. We must talk.”
“No,” she said, closing the case. “We mustn’t. Let us merely say that we disagree. You will do as you see fit, and so will I.”
“But you won’t say anything, will you? You’ll keep this in the family?”
A tear slid down her cheek. Perhaps as long as she continued to serve she could at least pretend she had a family.
“Yes, Algernon,” she said. “Your secret is safe with me. But be careful. He isn’t a man to cross.”
“Perhaps you should remember that, too,” he murmured.
She needed no reminder. She’d backed herself into a corner with Chase, and she was fairly certain she’d spend the rest of the night worrying about it.
Chapter Eleven
Meredee woke with a start. Golden light glittered through the slats on the window shutters. She’d over-slept!
She threw back the covers and called for a maid to help her dress. In truth, she had spent a difficult night, falling asleep well after the inn had finally quieted. Small wonder she’d slept in. Unfortunately, Mrs. Price would be sure to see this as willful disobedience after yesterday’s argument. Worst of all, she’d missed the morning’s low tide!
In her cream-colored walking dress with the butter-yellow overskirt, she rapped at her stepmother’s door and entered when bid. To her surprise, Mrs. Price was already dressed in a white muslin gown gathered at her neck and cuffs, and sitting up reading a novel they’d borrowed from the subscription library.
“That little maid helped me dress,” she explained when Meredee stammered an apology. “She hasn’t your gentle touch, but her work will suffice.” She set the book down primly in her lap. “We will say no more about yesterday, if you please.”
Meredee took that to mean she was forgiven. She could not help wondering, however, whether her step mother would allow the matter to be forgotten.
She learned the answer the moment they set foot in the spa house later that morning. The day was bright, the air warm. Many of the notables strolled the sands. A few lounged in the cool of the spa house, their conversation a low murmur like the waves. Sir Trevor was promenading about the room, looking every bit the commanding gentleman in his navy coat and tan trousers. Lady Phoebe in a green-sprigged muslin gown giggled on his arm, while Chase watched from near the windows.
Mrs. Price clutched Meredee’s arm. “What is that man doing with Algernon’s intended?”
Meredee sighed. “Lady Phoebe is not Algernon’s intended until he makes his intentions clear to the world.”
“And he explained why he cannot do so! Oh, I do not like how she dotes on Sir Trevor. Go interrupt them.”
“I shall do nothing of the kind,” Meredee said, but her stepmother drew herself up with a hiss like an offended goose.
“Sir Trevor is an old family friend,” Meredee reminded her. “I am persuaded Lady Phoebe sees him as another brother.”
“We shall see,” her stepmother muttered, narrowing her eyes on the pair. “I will not feel comfortable leaving her with the fellow until I am certain. If you will not move yourself for your brother, I will.” She released Meredee’s arm and stalked across the room, her skirts rustling as if they were every bit as agitated as she was.
“Has my sister done something to offend your family?” Chase asked, strolling up to take Mrs. Price’s place at Meredee’s side.
She pasted on a bright smile. “Lord Allyndale, how nice to see you.”
He bowed. Like Sir Trevor, he wore the navy coat and tan trousers that proclaimed him a man about town. “A pleasure as always,” he said as he straightened. “And I must thank you for that ointment. It was very soothing.”
“To your skin or your nose?” Meredee teased.
He grinned at her. “Both, I assure you. It was a relief to be able to tie my cravat again.”
And rather nicely, too, she thought, noting the more complicated fold. Even Algernon would have approved.
At the thought of her stepbrother, her smile very nearly slipped. Something must have shown on her face, for he took a step closer.
“Is something wrong, Meredee?”
Entirely too many things. She wanted to simply enjoy Chase’s company, but thoughts of yesterday’s argument with her family kept intruding, as did her realization of how quickly Chase was wedging him self into her heart.
“I’m just a little tired today,” she said. “Please think nothing of it.”
“You’re certain?” He peered closer, and she lowered her gaze lest he see the turmoil inside her. “I intended to wish both you and your stepmother a good morning, but she left before I could do so. She seemed upset, as well.”
Meredee glanced up to locate her stepmother. Mrs. rice had stopped Lady Phoebe and Sir Trevor, and engaged them in conversation. At the moment, she seemed quite animated, her hands moving with her words. Lady Phoebe nodded, and the ribbon on her rose-covered bonnet waved in time.
“Is my sister the cause?” Chase asked.
Oh, why had she made Algernon that promise? She’d said she wouldn’t betray him, but she couldn’t lie to Chase. “My stepmother was concerned that Sir Trevor was perhaps too intent on maintaining your sister’s company,” she said. “She thought her presence might give Lady Phoebe the excuse to decamp, if she so desired.”
His brows rose, and he glanced after her step mother again. “How extraordinarily kind of her to notice.” His look speared Meredee. “Are all the Prices intent on rescuing my sister from her own follies?”
No, my lord, one of them would very much like to encourage her. “Forgive us, my lord. It isn’t our place to involve ourselves in your affairs.”
“And what if I should ask you to involve yourself?”
She regarded him with a frown. He was watching her intently again, as if the very air he breathed depended on her answer.
“What do you mean?” Meredee asked.
He glanced at his sister as if to be certain she was in good hands, then offered Meredee his arm. “Would you take a turn around the room with me?”
She ought to refuse. The longer she was in his company, the more she was tempted to blurt out Algernon’s secret. Yet his question intrigued her. Why would he want to involve her and her family any more than they already were? He seemed so self-assured, self-controlled. Though he was respectful of people who approached, at church and at the spa, she was certain he gave his confidences only to a privileged few. Was she to be one of them?
Her heart fluttering in her chest, she put her hand on his.
“You have probably realized by now one of the reasons I came to Scarborough,” he murmured as they passed several gentlemen seated along the pale green wall. The elderly Mr. Openshaw waved his good hand at her, and she smiled in greeting. “I wanted to provide my sister with a safer environment.”
“Safer?” Meredee peered up at his craggy profile. “Was London so very dangerous?”
“For Phoebe, yes. Too many suitors, and too many of them unsuitable.” When Meredee frowned, he explained. “Fortune hunters, Meredee. Or worse—those who fancied themselves in love but who lacked the substance to be the husband Phoebe needs.”
Algernon came dangerously close to that description. “And Lady Phoebe could not see them for what they were?”
He snorted. “My sister has trouble seeing beyond the next pretty gown.”
Though she’d had similar thoughts, she could not help but be disappointed at his sharp assessment of his own sister. “I think you malign her, my lord.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “Sir Trevor offered the same caution. But you will allow that my sister has a way of seeking to gratify momentary interests at the expense of more important matters.”
She couldn’t argue that, either. Lady Phoebe lived entirely in the moment, with little thought beyond what she wanted right then. “Surely that is only her youth,” Meredee protested.
“She takes after our mother,” he said. “Lady Allyndale was an ethereal creature, all bright emotion and delicacy. She was a great beauty, and much loved by those who knew her well.”
And nothing, nothing like Meredee. Was it not said that men often gravitated to women like their mothers? Why did Chase want to be anywhere near her? She resorted more often to logic than emotion. At the moment, she felt every one of her far-more-substantial curves, the strength of each of her far-from-ethereal steps.
“She sounds delightful,” she said, trying not to sigh.
“She was a fragile creature who had difficulty deciding what cap to wear and who worried herself to an early grave. Phoebe is no different. Few of the women I’ve met are any different. I will admit I despaired for most of womankind, until I met you.”
Meredee pulled up short, blinking. They had reached the windows overlooking the sea, and he stood beside her, back to any curious gazes, and brought her hand up to cradle it against his chest. “If I may say, Meredee, I find much to admire in you.”
She couldn’t speak. The warmth of his gaze, the pressure of his hand on hers, sent her senses spinning. Never had anyone looked at her with so tender a smile. Chase Dearborn, Lord Allyndale, had feelings for her!
Her heart started beating faster, and she waited for the familiar fear to demand her attention. Instead, a fierce yearning rose up inside her. She remembered the giddy days of courting, of holding hands, of laughing over tiny things that meant something only to the two of them. She’d thought those days had died, that a part of her had died along with them. Now here was Chase, offering them to her again, and more.
What would it be like to be courted by someone who looked at her so sweetly, to feel his hand in hers, the brush of his lips in longing? To stand before God and His people and pledge their lives, their hearts to each other? To carry his children, to create their own family, people who loved and respected each other?
“You honor me,” she murmured.
“You honor me with your friendship,” he insisted. I have never met anyone like you.”
Oh, she had to stop him. If he continued like this, she’d either burst into tears or throw herself in his arms, and he’d think her just as emotional as his sister and mother. “Please, my lord,” she managed.
But he was clearly warming to his theme. “You are kind, considerate and full of uncommon good sense. Your loyalty, your character are unimpeachable.”
Once again, Algernon’s shadow darkened her thoughts. She dropped her gaze, trying not to squirm. “I am not such a paragon, my lord.”
“In my eyes you are. And that is why I find myself wishing to make you a proposal.”
Goodness, he would propose? Here? Now? She found it all too easy to imagine herself saying yes, being enfolded in those strong arms, accepting congratulations from her Scarborough friends. Mrs. Price alone would swoon at the news. Meredee felt like swooning herself.
Oh, Lord, give me strength! Her prayer went up even as her knees started to tremble. She pulled Chase to the side and came down hard on one of the chairs along the wall. “A proposal? Chase, this is so unexpected.”
“I realize that,” he said, taking the seat beside her but keeping a grip on her hand. “But I have given the matter considerable thought over the last two days, and it seems like the best course of action. Rest assured I will not take advantage of your generosity.”
Meredee managed to catch her breath. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are a noble and selfless creature, but I could not in good conscience ask you to chaperone my sister without some compensation for your time.”
“Your sister,” Meredee repeated numbly. “You’re proposing that I chaperone your sister?”
He nodded. “I believe you have much to offer her. Your character, your demeanor, will be a good example to her.”
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. What a fool he would think her if he knew where her thoughts had been heading. “So you would rather your sister be like me,” she said, unable to keep all the rancor from her tone, “a penniless spinster with little standing even in her own family.”
He paled. “Is that how they treat you? You deserve better, Meredee.”
And she deserved better than to be forced to serve yet again. Why did everyone persist in seeing her this way?
The greatest of you must be least. I came to serve, not to be served.
The gentle reproof humbled her. Yet even if she swallowed her pride, she knew his suggestion would never work. She pulled her hand from Chase’s. “I’m honored you’d extend me such trust, but I fear what you ask is impossible. My stepmother’s needs and the hunt for the incarnata take up all my time.”
“Bring your stepmother with you,” he said. “I’m sure Phoebe would be amused.”
He truly didn’t know much about women, particularly Phoebe and her stepmother, who she suspected were very much two peas in a pod. “Perhaps for the first few outings, but after that I fear no one will be amused.”
He chuckled. “You may be right. But Scarborough society is small enough that you should find plenty of opportunity for the two of them to be together and still find ways to amuse, like now.” He nodded to where his sister and Mrs. Price were chatting with Mr. Cranell and Colonel Williams. Sir Trevor had taken himself off and was glowering at the group from the far wall. It seemed the handsome baronet was just as protective of Lady Phoebe. Mrs. Barriston evidently found Sir Trevor’s attentions interesting, for she was whispering in another woman’s ear while both women kept their gazes fastened on him.
