What was left of her heart simply melted. He looked and sounded so fierce, like a robe-garbed warrior defending his castle. “Thank you, Albert.” She’d certainly had no intention of touching him, but somehow, of its own volition-perhaps because she wanted to so very badly- her hand lifted, and she laid her palm against his cheek.

The instant she touched him she realized her grave error. Her gaze riveted on the provocative sight of her hand resting against his face. His skin was warm, and the stubble of his beard lightly abraded her palm. The urge to stroke her fingers over his cheek, to explore the stark panes of his face, overwhelmed her. And she might well have given in to the temptation… but then she realized he’d gone completely, utterly still. A muscle jumped spasmodically beneath her fingers, indicating he clenched and unclenched his jaw. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if he were in pain-the sort of pain one suffered when placed in a grossly uncomfortable situation. Like being touched by someone you did not want to touch you.

Embarrassment and humiliation scorched her, and she snatched her hand away as if he’d turned into a pillar of fire. To her further mortification, hot tears pushed at the backs of her eyes, threatening to spill over. She needed to get away from him.

“I… I think I heard Hope,” she said, grasping at the first excuse that came to mind. “I must go. Good night.” She ran from the room, not stopping until she’d reached the safety of her bedchamber.

What an impossible situation. She could not continue living like this much longer. Her only hope was to avoid him completely, but how could that be accomplished while they lived under the same roof? If she remained, it was only a matter of time before she gave herself away. Yet she had nowhere else to go. She ached at the thought of leaving here, the only true home she’d ever known. Of taking Hope away from Meredith and Albert. Of taking herself away from them. What on earth was she going to do?


Just before one a. m., after safely delivering first Meredith, then Catherine to their respective residences, Philip pushed aside the green velvet draperies in his private study. After yanking off his cravat, he removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his hands down his face. A knock sounded at the door, and he blew out a resigned sigh. He had no desire to rehash the evening, but knew there was no point attempting to put off the conversation. “Come in, Andrew.”

Andrew entered the room, closing the door behind him. He crossed the maroon and gold Axminster rug, pausing at the brandy decanters. “You look as if you could use some revivification. Would you like one?”

Philip lifted the snifter he’d set on his desk. “Beat you to it.” Watching Andrew pour himself a fingerful of amber liquor, he mentally counted off the seconds. Five, four, three, two, one…

As if on cue, Andrew said, “Clearly the evening did not go as you’d hoped.”

“On the contrary, I thought the orchestra quite good.”

“I was not referring to the music.”

“Ah. Well, it’s true the food was only adequate, and the portions quite sparse, but as none of us were particularly hungry, it did not bother me.”

“Nor was I referring to the food.”

“The wine was excellent-”

“Nor the wine. As you damn well know, I meant Miss Chilton-Grizedale.” He gently swirled his brandy. “Where did you two disappear to?”

“Were you worried about us?”

“Actually, no. Your sister expressed some concern, but I assured her you merely wished to discuss the finding of your future bride with Miss Chilton-Grizedale in private. I then, with my usual wit and charm, managed to keep Lady Bickley’s attention diverted until you returned… looking a bit disheveled, I might add.”

“It was quite breezy.”

“Yes, I’m certain that it was the breeze which rendered Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s lips swollen and rosy, and retied your cravat in a different knot than the one you’d sported prior to your walk.”

Unease slithered down Philip’s spine, along with self-recrimination. Damn it all, he should not have risked kissing her in a public place, regardless of the fact that he’d done so under the cover of darkness, hidden away from prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was to further harm her reputation.

“Did anyone else notice, do you think?” he asked. “Catherine-?”

“No. You both did an admirable job of looking perfectly innocent when you rejoined us. I only noticed the differences because I was looking for them. I’m not trying to pry, Philip. I’m merely trying to help. It is obvious you are out of sorts.”

Philip tossed back a swallow of brandy, relishing the burn that eased down his throat. Perhaps Andrew could help. Could talk him out of this insane attraction to a woman he barely knew. “This woman you care for… how long were you acquainted with her before you knew how you felt about her?”

A humorless sound erupted from Andrew. “I’m guessing you want me to say I knew her for months or years, and that my feelings developed slowly over time, but it was nothing like that. It was more like a lightning bolt struck me. She affected me in ways I’d never before experienced the instant I laid eyes upon her.” He stared down into his brandy, his voice taking on a rough, almost angry edge. “Everything about her fascinated me, and each detail I learned about her only served to deepen my feelings from that first initial attraction. I wanted her until I ached, both physically and mentally. She was everything I wanted…” Andrew looked up and his lips quirked with an attempt at humor that did not quite reach his eyes. “You have no idea how many times I imagined the untimely demise of her husband. In some very inventive ways, I might add.”

“And if he were to meet with such a fate?” All vestiges of humor were wiped from his expression. “Nothing would stop me from making her mine. Nothing.”

“But what if the lady did not share your feelings?”

“Is that what has you out of sorts? You believe Miss Chilton-Grizedale is not enamored of you? Because if so, you are wrong. She is accomplished at hiding her feelings, but they are there, if you know where to look. And to answer your question, if the lady did not share my feelings, or needed some persuasion, I would court her.”

“Court her?”

Andrew looked toward the ceiling, shaking his head. “Bring her flowers. Spout poetry. Compose something called ‘Ode to Miss Chilton-Grizedale Upon a MidSummer’s Evening.’ I know romance is not in your scientific nature, but if you want the woman, you must adjust. But before you do, ask yourself how far you plan to let this flirtation go, and where is it going to leave her-and you-when it’s over.”

A knot tightened in Philip’s stomach. Kissing Meredith had been a gross breach of propriety, but still he’d wanted more. If they’d been in a more private setting, would he have been able to stop himself from taking further liberties with her? God help him, he did not know. She certainly deserved better than to be lured into the shadows of Vauxhall. She deserved to be properly courted by a proper gentleman-

His teeth clenched. Damn it, the thought of another man touching her, kissing her, courting her, surged jealousy through him. Unfortunately he had not planned on his heart and thoughts being engaged by the woman in charge of helping him find his bride. No, he had not planned on Meredith.

Andrew cleared his throat, pulling Philip from his brown study. “If you wish to court her-”

“No. I don’t. I cannot. Nothing could come of it.”

“Why not?”

Philip raked his hand through his hair. “I’m in no position to court her. I’m supposed to be concentrating on finding a bride. A woman from my own social class.” The words sounded hollow and supercilious even to his own ears. “Honor dictates that I do so, to keep my promise to my father.”

Andrew raised his brows. “And did you specifically promise your father to marry a woman from the upper echelons of your lofty Society?”

“No… but it is expected.”

“And since when do you always do what is expected of you?”

Philip couldn’t help but emit a short laugh. It was time to put this evening’s events into their proper perspective. Meredith aroused his curiosity and interest. He’d wanted to kiss her, and he’d satisfied that urge. As she’d pointed out, it was not something they would allow to happen again. He simply needed to keep his hands and his lips to himself. He was a man of ironclad control. He could do anything he set his mind to.

Before Philip could doubt that thought, Andrew said, “Of course the entire subject of marriage will be moot if we cannot break the curse. How many more crates remain in the warehouse to search through?”

“Twelve. How many at the museum?”

“Only four.”

Sixteen crates. Would one of them contain the missing piece of the Stone of Tears? If so, he would soon be married to some woman from his own class. If not, he would be forced to face a future alone. Both prospects equally filled him with dread.

Nine

Meredith stood in the shadows of Lord Greybourne’s drawing room and observed the festivities. If judged solely on the attendance, the party was a raging success. Out of the two dozen invitations issued, they’d received not even one refusal. The room was filled with a bevy of lovely unmarried ladies, all properly chaperoned, of course, all of them either interested in, or at the very least, curious about, Lord Greybourne.

Her gaze panned around the room until it located the guest of honor, Lord Greybourne himself. When she saw him, her heart lurched in that annoyingly familiar way it had every time she looked at him, only this evening her heart lurched and skipped several beats. Resplendent in formal evening attire, with even his cravat properly tied, he took her breath away. His thick chestnut hair gleamed under the light cast by the crystal chandelier, lit with dozens of beeswax candles. He’d clearly tried to tame his hair into submission, but an errant lock fell over his forehead. He stood near the fireplace, engrossed in conversation with Countess Hickam and her daughter Lady Penelope. Lady Penelope was a diamond of the first water, and very sought-after since her coming out last Season. With her shining blond beauty, angelic singing voice, and family fortune behind her, Lady Penelope was a stellar choice for a bride for Lord Greybourne. Indeed, the only reason Meredith had chosen Lady Sarah over her was because of the advantageous landholdings that marriage would have resulted in.