Price nodded, biting her lower lip. But Meredee couldn’t tell her what she really thought, for surely that was an even greater fancy. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought the earl was running away from her, just as she’d run from him the other day.
“But wasn’t that Miss Price?” Phoebe asked as Chase all but stuffed her into their waiting carriage outside the spa house.
“It was, but I spoke to her earlier.” He climbed in beside her, shut the door and rapped on the upper panel to signal his driver to start. He hadn’t intended to talk to Meredee Price, though he’d noticed her the moment he’d entered the spa. Something about her drew his attention, awakened his senses. He’d have liked nothing better than to spend a few hours in her company. But he knew he had to be circumspect. Undue attentions usually led to assumptions of betrothals he had no intention of confirming. He hadn’t come to Scarborough looking for a wife. Only his life.
Phoebe tossed her head. “Well, I didn’t get to speak to her. You might have asked before whisking me off.”
“You’ll see her tonight, pet,” he reminded her. “And, if I know you, you have a great deal to do to get ready for dinner.”
Phoebe’s pique eased at that, and she prattled on about hair and gowns for the quarter hour it took to reach their Scarborough house above the spa. Chase was just as glad. Phoebe had been away at school when he’d first fallen ill. She didn’t know the fevers that racked him with no warning, leaving him weak, helpless.
The London physicians blamed it on humors in the blood; the renowned physician he’d consulted in Edinburgh was certain it had to do with the night air on the York moors. Mal aria, the Italians called it. Either way, he was determined to rid himself of the malady. His sister and his duties as earl required him to be alert, focused, dedicated. Falling into a stupor for days at a time was simply not an option.
If only he could find Phoebe a suitable husband, but the girl seemed drawn to feckless fools—all harm, no substance. He did not doubt for an instant that they would prove weak reeds in times of trouble. Given Chase’s illness, Phoebe had to have someone at her side she could count on.
Unbidden, Meredee Price’s face came to mind. She never ceased to amaze him. What other woman in his circles had ever been interested in science, could actually converse knowledgeably about the subject? Moreover, she had a way of looking at him that made him feel as if she could see deep inside. For a moment, at the spa, he was certain she’d divined his secret, that taking the waters wasn’t simply a show of being fashionable but a desperate attempt to cure himself. Yet instead of ridicule he saw in her face, it was compassion.
“Allyndale, you are not paying attention,” Phoebe complained, forcing him back to the present. “I asked you a very important question.”
Chase inclined his head. “Forgive me. What do you need?”
Phoebe leaned forward, dark eyes narrowed. “Shall I wear pearls or roses in my hair tonight?”
Chase’s chuckle came out before he could catch it. “You will be delightful in either, my dear.”
She cocked her head. “You like Miss Price, don’t you?”
Oh, he was entirely too transparent. He schooled his face into something significantly more stern, a look that made his servants tiptoe about the house and Parliament tremble. “That, young miss, is none of your affair.”
Phoebe let out a peal of laughter. “Oh, you do, you do! How delightful! I’ve been praying so long for the right woman for you. I can’t believe I’ve found a sister at last!”
“Your felicitations are entirely premature, I assure you.”
“So you say, but time will tell. And when you are happy, perhaps you’ll be willing to let me be happy too.”
Her words knifed him. “Are you so very unhappy, Phoebe? I thought you wanted to come to Scarborough.”
She dropped her gaze and fiddled with the bow on her fetching bonnet. “I did. It isn’t Scarborough that makes me so unhappy. I miss him, Chase. I told you I would.”
Chase’s pulse pounded in his temples. “He isn’t worthy of you, Phoebe. You know that.”
“You know that,” she said with a sigh. “My heart never agreed with you.”
“Then perhaps it’s time you spoke to your heart,” Chase said, feeling his tightening inside him. “A marriage should be well thought out, the people well known to each other. You cannot fall in love in an instant and expect to have made a good choice.”
She raised her gaze to his, her dark eyes stormy. “Oh, I hope you fall in love, so swiftly and suddenly that nothing else matters! Perhaps then you’ll understand how I feel!”
She had no idea what she asked. Chase turned away from her before harsh words came out. He had no intention of falling in love, swiftly or otherwise. No amount of love had kept Phoebe safe before. That was where his duty lay. And nothing she or the lovely Miss Price could say would change that.
Chapter Four
Meredee knew she ought to be quivering in her slippers that she was going to dine with Lord Allyndale. At the very least she should be plotting stratagems to get him to confess all. But when she was with him, she found herself talking instead.
How could she not admire a man who wasn’t afraid to share his thoughts about science and philosophy, who seemed to genuinely enjoy her company? He was a refreshing change from the gentlemen her stepmother entertained. They lived at the very surface of life, talking in generalities. Algernon’s friends were worse. To them, she was an antidote—the poor spinster to be pitied. She hadn’t realized until this morning how much she craved more.
A salt-tanged wind was blowing in from the sea as she and Mrs. Price alighted from their carriage in front of the Dearborn house. The moist air brushed the carefully arranged curls at the sides of Meredee’s face. A tingle of excitement shot through her. A sea breeze in the evening often meant a storm was brewing. She might be able to go hunting in the morning! But before she could do more than think about what that would mean to her promise to her father, her gaze lit on the house, and all other thoughts fled.
Most of the people who flocked to Scarborough stayed in lodging houses or inns. A few rented a house overlooking the spa. Lord Allyndale’s house was of square rosy stone, three stories tall, with fluted columns across the front that softened the imposing lines. Candlelight glowed from every multipaned window, casting shadows across the stone steps. Meredee was glad she’d worn her best evening gown, a buttercup-yellow satin, striped with bands of delicate gold embroidery from the square bodice to the narrow hem.
Before she could take more than two steps, the front door opened, and Lady Phoebe rushed down the stairs to enfold Meredee in her arms. “Oh, you’ve come, you’ve come!”
Meredee managed to disengage with a smile. “Well, it truly isn’t difficult to travel the half mile unscathed.”
Lady Phoebe linked her arm with Meredee’s and drew her up the stairs and into the house, leaving Mrs. Price to pick up her amethyst-colored skirts and trail behind. The inside of the house was even more grand than the outside. The entry hall was tiled in black-and-white marble, the pale blue walls edged in white leaves and graced with landscape paintings
