Regina Scott, page 16
“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.
Would this be the last time she saw his smile? The last time he bowed over her hand? The soft pressure on her fingers made the words stick in her throat.
“I believe I’ll go fetch some tea,” Mrs. Price said after greeting him. “I’ll be back shortly.” She hurried from the room with a last look at Meredee, as if she expected to find her missing some part of her body when she returned.
Meredee expected it as well; she expected it would be her heart that would be broken.
“Have you seen Sir Trevor?” she asked before he could sit.
He frowned as if surprised by the question, then laid his tan driving gloves on the table along with his top hat. “Not since this morning when he went for a ride.”
There went one chance he might already know. She tried another tack. “And your sister?”
His frown deepened. “She is here with you, is she not?”
Meredee thought she might be ill. “When did she tell you that?”
“She left a note. She said you were to help her shop or some such thing. I see you didn’t expire from boredom.” He reached a hand toward hers, frown turning into a smile so tender she nearly cried out.
But she could not allow his touch now. If he touched her, she’d forget all about her duty, her purpose. If he touched her, she’d throw herself into his arms and pretend she’d never heard of Algernon’s plan or Victor Delacorte’s threats.
If he touched her, she’d tell him exactly how much she loved him, how much she feared losing him.
She pulled away. “My lord, there is something you must know.”
He raised his brows. “You sound so serious. Have you found the incarnata, then?”
“The incarnata? No, no.” She shut her eyes to close off his gentle smile. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t see his pleasure turn to pain, his delight to disgust.
“Meredee?”
She opened her eyes to find her regarding her with some concern. “Has something happened to Phoebe?”
Oh, Lord! This is so much harder than I thought.
Meredee put a hand on the table to steady herself. “Your sister isn’t here with me, my lord.”
He took a step back. “Then where is she?”
There was no hope for her now. “I very much fear that she’s run off with my stepbrother, Algernon Whitaker. And I believe Victor Delacorte may be following them.”
Chapter Eighteen
A roaring filled Chase’s ears, as if the entire contents of Scarborough Bay had poured through him, leaving him empty. “I cannot have understood you correctly,” he heard himself say. “Phoebe’s run off with Whitaker, not Delacorte?”
She nodded, face tight. “Yes. I believe so. All three of them are missing. But Sir Trevor knows. He’s trying to find them.”
He should be relieved. He could count on Trev. But he’d thought he could count on the woman before him, too. “And did you say you are related to Whitaker?”
Her gaze met his. “Yes. He’s my stepbrother. I owe my living to him.”
“I see,” he said, but he didn’t want to see the picture those words painted. She was completely be holden to Algernon Whitaker, the self-indulgent fop intent on marrying his sister against his wishes. That was where her loyalties must lie.
The one person in the world he’d thought could stand beside him was a sham. Like Phoebe, he had been taken in by a pleasing form and kind, calculated words.
He wanted to shout, to seize the table between them and hurl it across the room, to demand retribution, satisfaction. But she was quite right. She was a woman, and he certainly couldn’t challenge her to a duel.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her clenching fingers rumpling the embroidery on her yellow overcoat. “I wanted Algernon to tell you. I begged him to tell you. But he was too afraid of what you’d do.”
“It seems my fate to be surrounded by people too craven to tell the truth,” he said, forcing himself to do nothing more than pick up his gloves. His knuckles stood out as he pulled the leather onto his stiff fingers.
She flinched. “What will you do?”
Was she afraid? Perhaps she should be. The anger inside him was so deep it threatened to swallow him like a black beast. “That, madam,” he said, “is no longer your concern.” He turned for the door, every muscle tensed, every breath difficult.
She scurried to get in front of him, gray eyes wide and imploring. “Chase, wait. You cannot go after them alone.”
The anger forced his tongue. “You dare to protect him? He’s taken Phoebe, put her in danger!”
“But I have every reason to believe your sister went willingly. She loves Algernon. She told me so.”
Was there no limit to the times this woman could stab him in the heart? “So even Phoebe is given to lying to me.”
She raised her chin. “I will not try to justify my actions. But your sister and Algernon hid the truth from you because they believe you will never agree to their suit.”
He hurled his hat to the ground, anything to release some of the fire surging through him. “For this very reason! Does running away strike you as the act of two people able to make a successful marriage?”
“No. I fear for the pair of them. But I begin to believe it is not all their fault.”
He wouldn’t listen to another person tell him how caring for his sister somehow made her behavior acceptable. “Enough. At the moment, I care only about saving Phoebe.” He bent and picked up his hat. As he straightened, the room spun, and bile backed up in his throat.
No, not now. I will not be ill.
He must have paled, for she put a hand to his elbow as if to steady him. “My lord, are you all right?”
Of course he wasn’t all right. But lashing out at her wasn’t going to help matters. He had to think, had to act.
“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
He took a step toward her, and she cringed as if she expected him to strike her. He purposely held himself still. “I’m not going to hurt you, Meredee.”
She nodded, straightening. “I know that. But I truly don’t know where my stepbrother and your sister are at this moment. Mrs. Price and I searched all of Scarborough. Sir Trevor was doing the same. I fear the reason we cannot find them is that they’ve headed for Scotland.”
“Then I shall do the same.” He pushed past her, but she latched onto his arm.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No,” he said, glaring at her. “You are not.”
Unlike Phoebe, unlike that worm Algernon or the dastard Delacorte, she met his look, head high, eyes narrowed to gray lines of determination. “Think, Allyndale!” she said, giving his arm a shake. “If Delacorte or Algernon catches a glimpse of you alone, he’ll bolt like a rabbit. And you don’t know my stepbrother as I do. I know how he’ll travel.” She must have felt him hesitate, for her tone softened. “You are barely recovered from your illness. You should not do this alone.”
Did he have a choice? It seemed that God intended him to be alone. Yet he knew she was right. Already his anger was fading, to be replaced by a weariness that went to his soul.
“Very well, Miss Price,” he said, and she released his arm. “You have two minutes to fetch your pelisse. Meet me in the carriage yard.”
She hurried to comply, taking him at his word. Of course, he wasn’t the one given to lying.
Meredee flew down the narrow stairs, pulling on her pelisse as she went.
“But you can’t just ride off with him,” Mrs. Price had protested as Meredee crammed a bonnet onto her head. “Who’ll join me for supper?”
“I’m certain you’ll find someone,” Meredee said, snatching up her gloves. “Surely saving Algernon’s life is more important than making polite conversation over roast.”
“But you’ll be all alone with him in a closed carriage,” her stepmother had argued, following her to the door.
“I promise you, madam, the last thing on Lord Allyndale’s mind is romance!”
Breath coming in pants, Meredee stopped just long enough to talk to the innkeeper, who was watching two of his guests grumble their way through a game of chess at one of the tables in the common room. “Did Mr. Whitaker call for our carriage?”
Mr. Hollister pursed his plump lips. “Indeed he did, Miss Meredee, not an hour gone. He didn’t even wait for your coachman. Said he was in a hurry.”
