The Irresistible Earl. Regina Scott

      “Please allow me to thank you properly for your kindness, Miss Price,” Chase said. “We’ve rented a house here for the summer. Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow night.”

      “We haven’t decided how long we’ll be staying in Scarborough. I’ll send word if we’re able to accept your kind offer.”

      He inclined his head in acceptance of Miss Price’s dismissal, but his sister Phoebe’s face crumpled. “Oh, but you can’t leave! I just know we’ll be the best of friends!”

      Miss Price’s smile was a gentle quirk of her peach-colored lips. “Then I’m certain our friendship will survive any absence. Good day, Lady Phoebe, my lord.”

      He took Miss Price’s hand from his sister’s and bowed over it. “Your devoted servant, Miss Price.”

      Chase could not shake the feeling that something wasn’t aboveboard with the redoubtable Miss Price. She hurried up 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?

      REGINA SCOTT

      started writing novels in the third grade. Thankfully for literature as we know it, she didn’t actually sell her first novel until she had learned a bit more about writing. Since her first book was published in 1998, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages including Dutch, German, Italian and Portuguese.

      She and her husband of more than twenty years reside in southeast Washington State. Regina Scott is a decent fencer, owns a historical costume collection that takes up over a third of her large closet and she is an active member of the Church of the Nazarene. Her friends and church family know that if you want something organized, you call Regina. You can find her online blogging at www.nineteenteen.blogspot.com. Learn more about her at www.reginascott.com.

      The Irresistible Earl

      Regina Scott

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      If anyone serves, he should do it

       with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ.

      —1 Peter 4:11b

      To those I love, who never gave up on me:

       Larry, Kristin, Meryl, Marissa, Ammanda, Emily, Mom and Dad and, most of all, my heavenly Father. Thanks for giving me a chance to shine.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Yorkshire Coast, England, 1811

      “Help! Help me!”

      Meredee Price’s head jerked up at the cry echoing across the waters of the North Sea. She’d been so intent on scanning the golden sands that she’d lost track of everything else. But if someone was in trouble, she had to help.

      She scanned the area, eyes narrowed against the summer sun. The sweep of shore below the town of Scarborough was crowded with fashionable ladies in fluttering muslin gowns and gentlemen in high-crowned hats, strolling and chatting under a cloud less sky. The clear waves brushed against the bathing machines lined up in the surf to allow refined ladies to take the treatment of dipping into the cool waters. Each lady was attended by two burly women bathers, every machine pulled by two docile horses. All seemed calm, congenial.

      “Someone, help!”

      There! A girl floundered in the water near one of the bathing machines. The two lady bathers who would normally be attending her were struggling to lower a red-and-white canvas hood over the exit door of the white wood box on wide brown wheels. Their charge simply hadn’t waited for their help. Already she’d plunged into water up to her chest. Whipping her honey-colored hair away from her pale face, she waved a thin hand at Meredee. “Help me!”

      The cry pierced Meredee’s heart, and she took a step forward.

      Behind her she heard a sharp intake of breath. “Where are you going?” her stepmother demanded.

      Meredee smothered a sigh. Quickly glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Evangeline Price was still shivering from her dip. Mrs. Murdock, one of their bathers, had her strong arms around her to steady Meredee’s stepmother, and their other bather, Mrs. Lint, was standing ready to help, but Mrs. Price did not look comforted. Like Meredee, she stood in little more than a blue flannel shift, gray hair plastered to her thin cheeks, seawater streaming down her face and lapping at her waist.

      “You haven’t had your treatment yet,” her stepmother protested. “And I will not pay our bathers to watch you look for shells!”

      “It’s not that,” Meredee called. “Someone’s in trouble.”

      “Oh, she’ll be fine,” Mrs. Murdock said in her booming voice, her vowels as long and fluid as the waters stretching out behind them. “Just put your foot down now, miss,” she shouted to the girl. “It’s not so deep here.”

      But the girl was clearly becoming panicked. Barely keeping her mouth above the water, she flailed her arms. “Hurry! Please!”

      Meredee could see the fear on the girl’s face, hear it in the sharp little cries. Surely someone should go to her aid! Mrs. Murdock evidently thought better of her words, for she started forward. But Mrs. Price held her back, clinging to her and Mrs. Lint as if afraid the sea would rise and swallow her too. And there was no help anywhere else. Up and down the beach, the dandies and fine ladies who flocked to Scarborough for the summer were staring, pointing.

      “Will no one help?”

      At the sound of the anguished cry, one of the horses reared in its traces. Meredee gasped as the wagon jerked and swung to one side, knocking one of the bathers into the waves with a splash. The other clung to her perch, face white, as the wagon teetered on two wheels, overshadowing the girl, who stared up at it as if in a trance.

      Enough! Meredee didn’t wait another second. She waded over, seized the girl under the arms, and dragged her away from the wagon. Still the girl struggled, her slender body colliding with Meredee’s. Her fear was very nearly contagious. The sand shifted under Meredee’s feet; the waves broke against her back. The cold was nothing compared to the chill inside her.

      Help me, Lord. I can’t lose someone else at Scarborough.

      She widened her stance and tightened her grip. “You’re safe,” she said against the girl’s temple. “I have you.” She nearly cried out in relief when the girl went limp in her