Regina Scott Read Online Free PDF

because he’s taken a dislike to Algernon,” Meredee said, “doesn’t make him a monster, madam.”
    “Well, I like that!” Mrs. Price huffed. “And why was I dragged from my home if not to escape a monster?”
    Meredee sighed and took her arm. “I begin to wonder. Have you drunk from the wells, then?”
    “No,” her stepmother said with a pout. “I didn’tdare leave the room once I saw you conversing with that wretch.”
    “Then let’s get you a cup.” She led her stepmother through the long room and out the door.
    Once outside, the sound of the waves came louder. At high tide, she knew, they could pound against the rounded stones of the terrace and dampen the path with spray. Now a few leaves dotted the dark steps as they made their way down to the stone-lined recess that housed the two wells. Mrs. Price was convinced the Chalybeate Well was the finer of the two, so Meredee steered her toward the line of people waiting for a drink dipped from the stone-edged hole of the south well by a gentle widow.
    One of the wonders of Scarborough was the variety of people who were welcomed at the wells. Everyone from Mrs. Price’s new friend, the countess, to the tiny son of the local coalmonger stood waiting their turns, sure that a sip from the mineral springs would make them stronger, or at least more fashionable. But Meredee and Mrs. Price had only taken a few steps when she saw Lord Allyndale and Lady Phoebe near the north well.
    Mrs. Price must have sighted him at nearly the same time, for she nudged Meredee. “Smile,” she hissed. “You do not want him to think anything’s amiss.”
    Meredee forced a smile, but neither of the Dearborns seemed to be looking in her direction. They hadreached the front of their line and stood beside the low well. Mrs. Dennings, one of the elderly widows who served the water, lifted a tin cup. Meredee thought that surely Lady Phoebe would take it, but she refused the spa water with a shake of her honey-colored curls and a scrunch of her pert nose. To Meredee’s surprise, it was the earl who drank of the healing waters, head up, gaze out over the sea, in one great gulp as if taking particularly foul medicine.
    Her father had drunk it like that, when he was afraid of dying.
    Meredee blinked. Chase Dearborn could not be ill. Her father had been thin and growing thinner every day, his skin gray, his eyes shadowed. Lord Allyndale looked the picture of health—tall, solid, imposing. He turned and saw her staring at him then, and her cheeks heated in a blush.
    For a moment, their gazes locked, held. Why did he look at her so intently? Did he find her as intriguing to watch? Had he found their conversation as interesting as she had? Did he admire her?
    The stone floor seemed to shift under her. She caught her breath and clutched her stepmother’s arm to hold herself steady. Lord Allyndale merely inclined his head in acknowledgement, then walked swiftly to the stairs, his sister hurrying behind.
    “Well, I like that!” Mrs. Price grumbled, her gaze following them. “Not even a fare thee well!” She paled suddenly and grabbed Meredee’s hand whereit still rested on her arm. “Did you say something to make him take us in dislike?”
    Meredee took a deep breath and pulled away. What was wrong with her? Had she expected some kind of public display? She wasn’t the type to inspire sonnets; by his own admission he wasn’t the type to compose them. If she hadn’t saved his sister’s life, they would probably have never met.
    “I don’t believe his actions had anything to do with us,” she told her stepmother.
    Mrs. 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