here?” He dropped the razor into the porcelain washbowl, heedless of the soapy water that splashed his otherwise spotless yellow pantaloons. As Meredee carefully closed the door behind her, he turned to stare at her and his mother. “Are you certain? Did he speak of me?”
“He did not,” Mrs. Price put in. “And thank God for that!”
Meredee could only agree. Of course, she would not have been so bold as to ask God for Algernon’s safety. God never answered her prayers for large things—her mother’s recovery from the carriage accident that had taken her life when Meredee was only eight, her father’s healing from the illness that racked his body and cut short his studies as a conchologist, even her own situation with Mrs. Price. Now she just asked for little things, like patience.
“Lord Allyndale did not connect us with you,” Meredee told her stepbrother and explained how they had met the earl.
When she finished, she fully expected Algernon to wipe the foam from his face and set about packing. Instead, he began pacing the little inn room, taking three strides from the multipaned window to Meredee’s side where she perched on a ladder-backed chair next to his narrow bed. It seemed her stepbrother’s mind only worked properly when propelled by the energy of his long legs.
“But Lady Phoebe was all right?” he asked.
Trust Algernon to worry about the pretty girl first. “I sincerely doubt she was in any danger,” Meredee assured him. “I am no hero.”
He sent her a grin that broadened his narrow face and lit his deep blue eyes like sapphires in candlelight. “Well, you’ve been known to bail me out a time or two.”
“And I haven’t?” Mrs. Price immediately protested.
Algernon’s smile softened. “Certainly you have, Mother. I wonder sometimes how I manage to tie my cravat without advice from the two of you.”
“Then listen to me now,” Mrs. Price ordered. “We should leave. It’s the only way to be certain we’re safe.”
Meredee bit back a sigh. Her stepmother was right. But when would she get to the Yorkshire Coast again? She’d been suggesting the trip for five years, but Mrs. Price saw no need to return to the area where her second husband had met his end. Yet Meredee could only keep her promise to her father by coming here.
“Not necessarily,” Algernon said, holding up a hand. “Regardless of how Meredee feels about the matter, Lady Phoebe clearly believes Meredee saved her life. We may be able to use that to our advantage.”
Meredee felt as if the room had chilled and rubbed one hand along the sleeve of her blue cotton gown. “What do you mean?”
“Yes, Algernon,” Mrs. Price demanded. “You insist we flee this fellow, at considerable inconvenience I might add, and now you wish to embrace him?”
“Not me, Mother,” Algernon replied patiently. “Meredee.”
“Me!” Meredee hated the squeak in her voice. Why couldn’t she have a solid voice, a commanding voice? Her voice was high and soft, like a bird chirping, and as easily ignored, just as her family ignored her now.
“Meredee?” Mrs. Price shook her head, gray curls bouncing. “Unthinkable. I will not allow you to put her in danger. Besides, I do not know how I should get on without her.”
As Mrs. Price was neither infirm nor forgetful, Meredee could not see herself as so indispensible. Of course, it would cost her stepmother more money if she actually had to hire a companion instead of relying on Meredee for every little thing.
“We must all make sacrifices, Mother,” Algernon said as if agreeing with Meredee’s thoughts.
“But exactly what sacrifices must I make?” Meredee asked.
His smile was kind. “Nothing onerous, I promise. Merely accept his offer. Dine with him and Lady Phoebe. See if you can get him to confess why he’s come to Scarborough.”
Algernon had no idea what he was asking. Dine with his enemy? Surely her face, her least word would betray her. She was certain that Lord Allyndale had taken her measure on the shore, but the way he had touched her hand, bowed over it as if she were a great lady, had confused her more than anything else. The look in his eyes said he esteemed her.
All because she’d had the good sense to tell his sister to set down her feet.
Meredee shook her head. “No, I can’t do it. Even if Lord Allyndale is a monster, I cannot lie to him. If he asks me about you, I’ll be the one making a confession.”
“Ungrateful girl!” Mrs. Price cried, shaking a finger at her. “And where would you live if Algernon wasn’t so generous?”
Meredee stared at her hands, clenched together in her lap. She couldn’t bear to see the censure in her stepmother’s gaze. She didn’t understand why her father hadn’t made provision for her in his will, outside of leaving her his collection of seashells. Algernon had inherited the entire estate. Both Mrs. Price and she lived on his largesse. And she was truly grateful for Algernon’s kindness.
“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