Suddenly she halted and faced him, her eyes bright, her frown vanished. “I believe I have a plan, my lord.”

“Pray, do not keep me in suspense, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

“In spite of the fact that this curse renders you-at least temporarily-unmarriageable, I think it will also provoke a great deal of interest and curiosity about you. We must make that work to our advantage. With all these rumors flying about, we shall toss a few of our own choosing into the mix. We’ll make it known that it is merely a matter of time before the curse is broken, and in the meanwhile, through the hosting of an exclusive soiree-perhaps a dinner party-I shall find you a wife. Cursed as you may be, with the imminent promise of no longer being cursed, marriage-minded mamas will be unwilling to allow the heir to an earldom slip through their fingers.”

“And if I cannot-”

Reaching out, she touched her fingers to his lips, effectively cutting off his words, and his very breath. Shaking her head, she whispered, “Don’t say it. You will. You must. For your integrity and to keep your promise to your father before his health further fails, and for the sake of my livelihood and reputation.”

He wanted to tell her that it was a very real possibility that he would never find the missing piece of stone, never be able to solve the curse, would never be able to marry. But to do so would have required him to move, something completely beyond him at the moment. And movement might have dislodged her fingers from his lips, something he was most reluctant to do. The touch of her fingers against his lips simultaneously paralyzed him and sizzled a bolt of heat through him.

He wasn’t certain what reaction must have shown on his face, because her eyes widened and her lips formed an O of surprise. She snatched her hand away as if he’d bitten her, then retreated two hasty steps.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”

His lips tingled from her touch, and it required a great deal of will not to run his tongue over his bottom lip to taste the spot she’d just touched. He moved his hand in a dismissive gesture-only to discover that his hand was not quite steady.

“No harm done,” he said lightly.“ ‘Tis better not to vocalize some things.” Like the fact that I find you fascinating. Intriguing. That I like the way you speak your mind and present your ideas in a clear, concise, nonconvoluted way. That you affect me in a way that I find very unsettling. And that I would like to know much more about you.

No, it was definitely better that he not vocalize such things.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I believe your plan is sound. As I know next to nothing about planning soirees, I think it might be wise to enlist my sister Catherine’s help. She is scheduled to arrive in London this afternoon.”

“An excellent suggestion, my lord. An invitation from Lady Bickley would most certainly be looked upon with more favor than one coming from me. Do you think she would be willing to act as hostess?”

“I’m certain she would be happy to do anything at all to help. I’ll send a note, inviting her to dinner this evening to discuss the details… if you are free to join us?”

“Yes, thank you. The sooner we put our plan into action, the better.”

Pulling his watch fob from his pocket, he checked the time. “Since it already grows late, and as I must send off the invitation to Catherine, then speak with my father to tell him the latest developments, I suggest we finish our respective crates, then depart.”

She nodded her agreement, then returned to her work area. Philip forced himself to do the same. But, unable to stop himself, he turned his back to her, then rubbed his index finger over his lips where she’d touched him.

She was coming to his home. This evening. The very thought made his heart pound in a way that it most certainly should not. But there was no ignoring the fact that it did. The question was, what did he plan to do about it?


Albert closed the door to Miss Merrie’s house with more force than he’d intended. Muttering darkly under his breath, he limped across the foyer and dropped the missive that had just been delivered onto the salver resting on the mahogany table-along with the dozen other messages already there.

“Was that another one?” came Charlotte’s soft-spoken voice behind him.

He froze, and his heart skipped several beats. Damn it all, he had to stop reacting this way every time they were in the same room. But how to stop? He’d been a mere lad of fifteen when Miss Merrie had invited a beaten and pregnant Charlotte to join their “family,” rescuing her as she’d rescued him years earlier. But he was no longer a lad, and there was nothing brotherlike about his feelings for Charlotte.

Drawing a deep breath, he turned slowly, trying to make the movement appear smooth. Unfortunately, in his attempt to appear less awkward, he nearly tripped on his own feet. He lurched forward, and Charlotte grasped his shoulders to steady him, just as he grabbed her upper arms to keep from pitching face first onto the floor.

His balance regained, everything in him stilled. The warmth of her hands seared imprints on his shoulders that sizzled down to his feet. Her arms felt slender beneath his palms. If he pulled her closer, the top of her head would nestle perfectly under his chin.

She looked up at him, her gray eyes filled with concern. Just concern. Not a flicker of any of the emotions churning through him. Not the slightest indication that she felt anything more for him than she ever had-respect, fondness, and friendship.

Damn it all to hell and back, he wished that was all he still felt for her. But somehow, his feelings of respect, fondness, and friendship had flared into something more. Something that rendered him clumsy and tongue-tied in her presence. Something that made him achingly aware of her every minute of the day, that made his heart beat faster at the sound of her voice, that tensed his every muscle when they stood in the same room. That made him spend sleepless, restless nights, aching in his lonely bed. For her.

The thought of her guessing, of realizing how he felt, clenched his stomach into a tight knot. She wouldn’t laugh-she was too kind for that-but the thought of seeing pity in her eyes, of feeling sorry for him for his hopeless feelings… he couldn’t bear it.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Gritting his teeth, he slowly released her arms. “Fine,” he said, more brusquely than he’d meant to. He took an awkward step back from her, careful to keep his weight balanced on his good leg, then jerked his jacket back into place.

Her gaze shifted to the pile of letters. “I guess we know what those are. More cancellations.”

Not yet trusting his voice, he merely nodded.

“Poor Meredith,” Charlotte said. “She’s worked so hard, she doesn’t deserve to be cast away like this.” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “But that’s how people are. They use you, then toss you aside like so much trash. You and I know that better than most, don’t we, Albert?”

“Yes. But not all folks are that way, Charlotte.” He savored the sound of her name on his tongue. “Miss Merrie ain’t like that-you and I know that better’n most.”

Her fierce expression relaxed a bit. “If only everyone were like her.”

“Impossible to wish that all folks were good,” he said gently.

She looked at the floor, twisting her hands together. “Yes. But sometimes I can’t help but wish for impossible things.”

Her quiet voice grabbed him by the heart, and unable to stop himself, he gently touched his fingers under her chin to raise her face. He held his breath, waiting for her to recoil, but to his surprise she stood her ground. Her skin felt like… he didn’t know. Like the softest thing he’d ever felt. Her gaze met his, and his heart thumped so hard he knew she had to hear it. “Wot do ye wish for, Charlotte?”

For a long moment she said nothing, and he simply stood, absorbing the feel of her warm skin beneath his fingertips, the sight of her eyes, so fathomless and full of shadows from past hurts and pains. The desire to make all her dreams come true, to destroy anyone or anything that would ever dare hurt her, throbbed through him. His gaze roamed her face, touching on the faint scar bisecting her left brow, and the slight bump on the bridge of her nose. An image of her, beaten and bruised, flashed through his mind.

Never again. He’d never allow anyone to ever hurt her again. To be near her and never be able to touch her, love her, would be nothing short of torture for him, but it was the way it had to be. She deserved so much more than the likes of him.

And even if, impossibly, his ruined leg and physical limitations didn’t matter, her words, those fervent words he’d heard her speak to Miss Merrie when she first came to them, haunted him, making him know that there was no future for them. I’ll never let another man touch me again she’d said through her cracked, swollen lips. Never again. I’d kill myself, or him, first.

It had taken a long time for her to come to trust him, but trust him she did-at least as far as she trusted anyone. He’d do nothing to risk that. Ever. If this was all he could have of her, so be it. But God forgive him, he wanted so much more.

“What do I wish for?” she repeated softly. “All my wishes are for Hope. I want her to have a good life. A safe life. Happiness. I don’t want her to ever have to do… the things I’ve done.”

Her voice went totally flat, as did her eyes, and Albert’s heart squeezed. “Hope is goin‘ to have a grand life, Charlotte. You, me, Miss Merrie, we’re all goin’ to see to it.”

The hint of a smile touched her lips, warming her eyes. “Thank you, Albert. You are a dear boy. And a wonderful friend.”