Regina Scott (18 page)

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.”

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.”

She imagined he was at that, with Chase due at the
inn any moment. She thanked the innkeeper for his trouble and hurried out to the coachyard.

Mrs. Price’s fears proved unfounded, for Chase had already dismissed his coachman and was on the box of his elegant green coach.

“Help her up,” he ordered his man, and the coachman offered Meredee his cupped hands with a grimace of apology.

She managed to clamber up onto the seat and had barely arranged her skirts when Chase shouted, “Spring ’em!” and the coach jerked forward.

She clutched the sideboard with both hands as they thundered out of the yard and into the street. Chase continued his shouts as they rushed down the lane. Other coaches swerved aside. Sedan chair bearers dashed to the walls. Carts and wagons careened out of their way.

The air whipped past Meredee’s face and tugged at her bonnet, but she didn’t dare release her hold on the coach for fear she’d go flying, as well.

The turnoff for Scalby was approaching fast. “Which way?” Chase demanded, eyes on his horses.

“To the west,” Meredee called back. “He’ll make for Thirsk.”

He maneuvered the coach easily past the turn and out of the city. The lane led through pastureland with thick hedges on one side and a ditch on the other. As fast as they were going, Meredee couldn’t help
wondering what would happen should they veer into either.

“He’s driving our brown barouche,” she shouted against the rushing air. “And Mr. Hollister said Algernon only left a while ago, so we should be able to catch him easily.”

He said nothing, merely shook the reins to urge the horses to greater speed. His mouth was a tight line, his jaw clenched. She wasn’t sure he even saw the road ahead.

But she saw it. Stepney Hill was approaching, the easy grade rising in the distance. The horses would never take it at this speed.

She reached out and put a hand over his. “My lord, he cannot be far ahead of us, and he doesn’t know we’re following. There is no need to abuse your horses.”

Still he said nothing, but, as she withdrew her touch, he slowed the team. Meredee took a deep breath and managed to pry her other hand from the woodwork.

“Why?” he asked suddenly. “Why does Whitaker persist? Is it the inheritance?”

Meredee sighed, leaning back but finding no comfort against the hard wood of the seat. “No. Algernon is well enough off for most brides. He believes him self to be in love.”

“Love.”
The way he sneered the word made
her want to weep. “Love looks to the other’s needs first.”

“’Love is patient, love is kind,’” Meredee agreed. “I know. But Algernon believes he is looking to your sister’s needs. He thinks he’s rescuing her.”

He frowned. “From what?”

“From you, my lord.”

His hands tightened on the reins, and the well-trained horses sped up again. He reined them back. “I am so very glad to know that the world thinks me such an ogre.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “I understand why you kept Lady Phoebe close.”

“Apparently not close enough.”

And that was her fault, she knew. Would he have agreed to let his sister spend the day with anyone else but the woman who’d saved her life, who’d nursed him back to health?

Who’d given him her heart?

Water pooled at the corners of her eyes, and she knew it wasn’t from the wind. But she could not allow tears—not now. Time enough later to mourn what might have been. Now they had to find Algernon and Phoebe, before Delacorte did.

In the next hour, they passed several brown barouches, but all had drivers and none was Algernon. Meredee directed Chase down the path her stepbrother had said he would travel, fearing that with each curve, over each hill, they’d see Algernon just
ahead. She had no doubt that the meeting would be explosive. She no longer believed Chase would kill Algernon on sight, but she wasn’t sure what he’d do if Lady Phoebe refused to return with him.

They stopped to rest the horses at East Ayton and inquired about Algernon’s carriage, but no one had seen it.

“I warn you,” Chase said as he helped Meredee back onto the box. “If you’ve led me in the wrong direction, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Meredee put both hands on the sideboard. “And I warn you, my lord, that I will stand for none of your nonsense when we find them. You will not bully anyone this time.”

He slapped the reins and set the team going again.

They were just outside Ruston when Meredee spotted their carriage in the yard of a small inn. “There!” she cried, heart leaping, and Chase pulled the horses into the dusty yard. The inn was low and long, with sparse windows and peeling paint. Besides the barouche, only one other carriage sat in the yard, a yellow curricle with two perfectly matched black horses. Meredee frowned, but Chase leapt off the box.

“My lord!” she cried as he stalked toward the inn, leaving the horses to a groom that had come running.

She could see the effort it cost Chase to stop, to
turn and come back for her. He reached out and lifted her easily from the box. For a moment, she rested in his strength. Once more their gazes locked, held, and this time she saw hurt and doubt written in the blue.

“I’m truly sorry,” she murmured.

He looked away and set her down, then turned once more for the inn, and Meredee could only follow.

“Where is the owner of that barouche?” Chase demanded of the tall, stringy innkeeper, who had hurried forward, wiping his hands on his apron.

One look at Chase’s face and the fellow pointed wordlessly to a door to their right. Chase strode to it and shoved it open.

Meredee was right behind him. The private parlor was darkly paneled, the fire a dim glow in the hearth. It took a moment for Meredee’s eyes to adjust to the gloom. Then she focused on Lady Phoebe, wrapped in her rose-colored pelisse, huddled on a bench by the table, face in her hands. Her sobs were clear over the crackle of the fire. Algernon was down on one knee before her, face set in such harsh lines that Meredee might not have recognized him except for his crimson coat.

“Love?” Chase roared, grabbing Meredee and pulling her into the room as if to force her to see the tableau. “Do you call this love?”

Algernon scrambled to his feet. Phoebe dropped her hands, took one look at her brother and buried her head in her arms on the table beside her.

“Phoebe!” Algernon cried, bending over her.

“Take your hands off her!” Chase ordered, striding into the room.

“Algernon, for God’s sake, leave off!” Meredee cried.

Clearly confused, her stepbrother backed away from the girl.

Chase put an arm around his sister and helped her to her feet. She hid her face in his jacket, sobs growing.

What was wrong with the girl? Why didn’t she tell Chase that she loved Algernon? Why didn’t she defend the man she’d been willing to run away with?

Unless she hadn’t been willing. Suspicions drove Meredee to her stepbrother’s side. “Algernon, what is this? Tell Lord Allyndale you love Phoebe, that you’d never hurt her.”

Chase paused, eyes narrowed at her stepbrother, body tense, daring him to speak.

Algernon raised his head. “I do love your sister, my lord. Despite appearances.”

Phoebe shook her head against Chase’s waistcoat. “He’s lying. He can never love me now, not after what’s happened.”

“Phoebe!” Algernon cried again, face falling.

Chase’s breath came out in a hiss. “Return to Scar borough, Mr. Whitaker. Take your entire family and remove them from my sight. If you come near my
sister again, I will press charges.” Arm around his sister, he drew her from the room.

Without another word to Meredee.

“Oh, Algernon,” she murmured, wrapping her arms about her waist. “What have you done?”

“Nothing,” he said, face crumpled and anguished. “I promise you, Meredee! I didn’t bring Phoebe here.”

“What are you talking about?” Meredee cried. “I warn you, Algernon. You cannot blame someone else for your mistakes.”

“Nor is he, Miss Price.”

Meredee whirled at the sound of Sir Trevor’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, his usually immaculate dove-gray coat speckled with rust-colored dots. As he shoved another man into the room by the collar, she realized the drops were blood.