The Irresistible Earl

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Meredee gasped. Did he know? Had someone sent word that Algernon was in Scarborough? Had she somehow given them away by singing her stepbrother’s favorite song?

Mrs. Price rose shakily to her feet. “Stay here? Why?”

“I’m told a storm has sprung up,” he replied. “Between Phoebe’s playing and our location at the back of the house, we didn’t notice.” He paused a moment, and Meredee knew she wasn’t the only one listening. Now she heard it, an uneven rising and falling, as if harsh winds drove pouring rain this way and that.

“Oh,” Mrs. Price said, sinking back onto her seat with a strained laugh. “A storm. Of course.”

“My lord, we cannot impose,” Meredee started, but the earl held up his hand.

“And I cannot be responsible for turning my guests or my staff out into this deluge. You and your coachman will spend the night here. I’m sure the inn will hold your rooms.”

“Well certainly, but …” Mrs. Price trailed off and looked helplessly at Meredee.

She was fairly sure she knew her stepmother’s concern. Algernon would be waiting to hear what they’d learned about Lord Allyndale’s purpose in Scarborough. When they didn’t return, what would her stepbrother do?

“It’s settled then,” Lord Allyndale said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll instruct the staff to arrange rooms for the three of you.” As if their agreement was never in question, he strode from the room. Sir Trevor also excused himself to check on his horse.

In short order, Meredee found herself ensconced in an elegant bedchamber. She was surprised that Lady Phoebe hadn’t chosen it for herself, for the walls were a pale pink edged in white like the inside of one of her father’s shells, and the furniture was rosewood with gold appointments. A cheery fire was already burning in the white marble fireplace. How lovely it would be to sink into the thick mattress, snuggle under the pretty coverlet. Yet was it advisable to stay?

She pulled aside the heavy crimson drapes and peered out into a dark night where darker shapes of trees whipped back and forth, and rain pattered on the glass. Staying indoors was definitely safer. If only she could be certain Algernon would do the same!

She wasn’t sure what she was to do about toiletries and sleeping attire, but a harried young maid brought her an ivory-backed brush and comb and a lace-edged white flannel nightgown that smelled faintly of camphor.

“Retrieved from a chest in the attic, miss,” the girl confided as she helped Meredee out of her corset and into the soft folds of the flannel. “The other lady was small enough to wear one of Lady Phoebe’s things, but you’re built on entirely different lines, if I may be so free.”

Meredee was just thankful to have something to wear and told the girl so, then dismissed her so the maid could return to Lady Phoebe. Meredee was sitting in one of the chairs by the fire, combing out her hair, when there was a tap at her door.

“It’s Phoebe,” said a whispered voice when Meredee asked who it was. “May I come in?”

Meredee hurried to open the paneled door for her, and the girl slipped into the room, her filmy white nightgown trailing behind her like wisps of fog.

“Are you all settled?” she asked with a smile undimmed by the lateness of the hour or the circumstances. “My brother wanted to make sure everything was to your liking. I told him to come ask you himself. I think I scandalized the poor dear.”

“You scandalize me, Lady Phoebe,” Meredee said, but she couldn’t help smiling at the girl’s giggle.

Lady Phoebe took both of Meredee’s hands. “I just knew we were going to be friends. May I call you Meredee?”

“Of course,” Meredee replied, touched by the intimacy.

The girl pulled her to the bed and crawled up onto the creamy quilted bedcover. “And now we can have a nice coz.”

“Now?” Meredee stood beside the bed with a frown.

Phoebe spread her hands. “Of course now! That’s why one has friends stay over—to whisper confidences long into the night.”

“I sincerely doubt that’s what your brother had in mind.”

“Probably not,” Phoebe agreed. “But it’s what I had in mind from the moment he suggested that you stay.” She flopped back onto the covers and gazed up at the rosy brocaded hangings that draped the canopied bed. “I’ve always wanted a sister.” She popped up on her elbows. “Do you have any family, Meredee?”

Meredee perched on the edge of the bed. Lady Phoebe was so open, so giving. She hated having to lie. “No sisters, I’m afraid,” she said.

Phoebe sighed. “Well, I suppose brothers have their uses. Sometimes.”

“You’re doing it too brown,” Meredee said. “Your brother seems devoted to you.”

Phoebe plummeted onto her back again. “Oh, he is. Perhaps too devoted.”

Meredee lay back as well and gazed over at the girl, whose honey-colored curls had fanned out on the coverlet. “I haven’t felt like part of a family since my father died. Even then he was fairly busy with his own activities. I think having someone looking out for you would be wonderful. Is there such a thing as too much devotion?”