Swallowing to moisten her dust dry throat, she said, “I… I’m fine.”

“This gravel can be quite treacherous. Did you twist your ankle?”

“No, I merely stumbled. No damage done.”

“Good.” He released her arm with a lack of haste she foolishly fancied might be reluctance. “Would you like to continue walking? Andrew and my sister are quite far ahead of us.”

Meredith turned and noted that indeed the other couple had already disappeared from view. She moved forward, and he fell into step next to her. Other couples strolled along, but without the security of Mr. Stanton’s and Lady Bickley’s presence, Meredith was very much aware of being alone with Lord Greybourne. She quickened her pace.

“Are we engaged in a race, Miss Chilton-Grizedale?” he asked in a voice laced with amusement.

“No, I just thought perhaps we should catch up with Mr. Stanton and Lady Bickley. We would not want to lose them.”

“Never fear. If I know Catherine, she is on her way to secure a prominent supper box. By the time we arrive, Andrew will have already ordered wine, thus relieving me of the burden of choosing a vintage.” He chuckled. “Thank goodness the Gardens are renowned for their excellent wines, as Andrew is most definitely not a connoisseur. Brandy is much more his preference.”

A bit more relaxed now that the mood seemed lightened, Meredith pointed ahead to the three triumphal arches spanning the walk. “At this distance, it almost appears as if the authentic Ruins of Palmyra reside in Vauxhall.”

Philip focused his attention on the arches, vastly relieved to have something to concentrate on other than his companion. After a brief perusal he said, “They are a reasonable facsimile, but cannot compare to the actual ruins.”

“I did not realize your travels spanned to the Syrian desert, my lord.”

Impressed by her knowledge of the ruins’ location, he said, “Syria was but one of many places I visited over the course of the past decade.”

“The ruins were magnificent, I imagine.”

An image instantly crystallized in his mind, so vivid he felt as if he once again stood in the ancient city. “Among the vast array of ruins I studied, Palmyra stands out, mostly because of its sheer dramatic scope. The contrast of color is remarkable, and quite impossible to describe, I’m afraid. During the day the ruins are bleached white by the relentless sun, against an infinite sky so dazzlingly blue it hurts the eyes to look at it. At sunset, shadows fall over the ruins as the sky lightens from that vivid blue to yellow, then deepens to orange, then to an almost blood red. And then the sky would grow darker, darker, until the city simply vanished into the desert night, gone until the sun rose again.”

He turned his head to look at her. She was gazing at him, a dreamy look in her eyes, as if she, too, could see Palmyra as clearly as he. “It sounds extraordinary,” she whispered. “Incredible. Beautiful.”

“Yes. All those things. And more.” His gaze roamed over her face, touching upon each unique feature, settling last on her lovely mouth. He wanted to touch her. Kiss her. With an intensity that he could no longer ignore.

Pulling his gaze from her, he quickly took note of their surroundings. “Come,” he said, placing his hand gently under her elbow to steer her toward a path leading away from the pavilions and colonnade. “It is such a lovely evening, let us walk and talk a bit longer before joining Andrew and Catherine in the supper box. There are several things I’m wondering about, and perhaps you’d satisfy my curiosity.”

He glanced down at her. She blinked rapidly, and the faraway expression vanished from her eyes. “Certainly, my lord. At least I’ll try. What are you curious about?”

“You, Miss Chilton-Grizedale. How is it that you came to be a matchmaker?”

She hesitated for a second, then said, “In the usual manner. At a young age I possessed an innate sense regarding which gentleman and lady among my family’s acquaintances would suit one another, and I enjoyed dropping hints regarding my choices. Amazingly enough, quite a number of my suggestions came to pass. As I grew older, I read the Society pages, and mentally paired off members of the peerage. I would read the banns and often think, heavens, no-he shouldn’t marry her? Lady so and so would be a much wiser match. Soon the village mamas began seeking my advice for their daughters. I eventually moved to London, and little by little my reputation grew.”

Just as it had struck him in the park this afternoon, it was not her words that didn’t ring true, but the manner in which she said them. As if she were reciting a speech she’d memorized. He had the distinct impression that if he asked her the same question two months from now, he’d receive the same answer-word for word. And unlike many women he’d met, he sensed a reluctance in her to talk about herself.

She slid him a sideways glance. “Your father hiring me on your behalf to find you a suitable bride was my most prestigious commission to date.”

“Yet even if you do succeed in finding a woman willing to marry me, I can only do so if I am able to break the curse.”

“I refuse to take a pessimistic view regarding breaking the curse. And I cannot imagine any woman not wanting to marry you.”

He slowed his pace and looked at her. “Indeed? Why is that?”

His question clearly flustered her. “Well, because you are”-she waved her hand around, as if trying to conjure the words she sought from the air-“titled. Wealthy.”

Disappointment and something that felt suspiciously like hurt filled him. Was that all she saw? “And those are the sole criteria you use when arranging suitable matches?”

“Certainly not.” She flashed a grin. “It helps enormously that you have all your hair and teeth.”

“And if I didn’t have all my hair and teeth?”

“I still cannot imagine any woman not wanting to marry you.”

“Why?”

“Are you casting about for compliments, my lord?” Her voice held an unmistakable trace of amusement.

Damn it, he was. Shamefully. He knew he was far from handsome. Knew his years traveling about had tarnished the shine of his manners. Knew his interests would bore any female to tears. Still, he longed to hear her dispute what he knew. She was clearly striving to keep the conversation light, while he conspired to maneuver her into a dark corner. He should be ashamed of himself. Appalled. And he’d strive to dredge up all those proper feelings- after he’d kissed her.

“Do you have any compliments to give, Miss Chilton-Grizedale?”

She heaved out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I could think of one. If pressed.”

“Let me guess. My ears do not stick out nor droop like a hound’s.”

She laughed. “Precisely. And there are no warts upon your nose.”

“Careful. Such praise will go straight to my head.”

“Then I’d best not point out that there’s no paunch about your middle. Or that your eyes are-” Her words snapped off as if she’d chopped them with an axe.

“My eyes are what, Miss Chilton-Grizedale?”

She hesitated for several heartbeats, then whispered, “Kind. Your eyes are kind.”

Lovely, simple words. Surely they shouldn’t have pumped such heat through him.

Meredith risked a glance at him. He was looking at her with an intensity that turned her throat to dust. Averting her gaze, she swallowed, then said, “It is your turn now, my lord.”

“To give you compliments? Very well. I think you are-”

“No!” The word burst from her lips, followed by a nervous laugh. “No,” she repeated more softly. “I meant it is your turn to tell me how you fell into your present profession as an antiquarian.” Yes, that’s what she’d meant, but a part of her couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been about to say.

“Ah, well, it is interesting that you would phrase it that way, as I literally did ‘fall’ into my love for antiquities. When I was but a lad of five, I accidentally fell into a well at Ravensly Manor, the family’s country estate in Kent.”

“Oh, dear. Were you hurt?”

“Only my pride. Luckily the well was shallow, as I was quite clumsy as a child. I recall one governess who referred to me as ‘The Accident Ship Looking for a Port to Dock.’ She only muttered that under her breath, of course, but I was clumsy-not deaf.”

There was no mistaking the tinge of hurt in his voice, and she instantly recalled the painting hanging over the mantel in his father’s drawing room. A pudgy, bespectacled boy on the brink of manhood. He’d no doubt been a pudgy, bespectacled child as well, one whom the governess thought it was acceptable to call names. Sympathy, along with a healthy dose of outrage on his behalf, swept through her.

“I hope your father showed that governess the door- without benefit of a reference.”

“Is that what you’d have done?”

“Without hesitation. I cannot abide people who say or do hurtful things to those they are supposed to look after, to those who depend upon them. Those who are smaller or weaker than they. It is the worst sort of betrayal.” Her hands fisted as the words flowed, unstoppable, low, and fervent. Embarrassed by her intensity, and praying he did not read too much into it, she quickly said, “So you were at the bottom of the well…”

“Yes, where I discovered gobs of oozing mud. It quite cushioned my fall, but it also ate my shoes. When I lifted my foot, there came this horrible sucking sound. Then my foot, encased only in my stocking, emerged. I plunged my hands into the mud, and discovered it was only about a foot deep. Underneath the mud was a hard substance I realized was stone. I felt around for my shoe, and while doing so, I found something small and round. I pulled it free and managed to wipe off enough of the mud to see it was a coin. Feeling around, I located three more. That evening, I showed the coins to my father. They were made of gold, and appeared to be very old. The next morning we traveled to London, to the British Museum.