Regina Scott - The Irresistible Earl

“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?”

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