“You are to be congratulated, Miss Chilton-Grizedale,” Father said. “Last evening’s party produced the desired results.”

“I’m not certain I know what you mean, my lord.”

“The goal was to find a suitable bride for my son. He told me this morning that one particular young lady made quite an impression on him. I’ve every confidence the wedding will take place on the twenty-second as we’d hoped.”

Twin crimson flags rose on Meredith’s cheeks. Her gaze flew to Philip’s. Myriad expressions flashed in her eyes, so rapidly he couldn’t read them. Confusion? Concern? Dismay?

“I’m happy to hear it, my lord,” she said, her voice tight. She averted her gaze, panning over the fragments spread out on the sheets. “Oh, dear.” Once again she looked at Philip, this time her eyes filled with distress. “These were broken last night?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’m so sorry. It hurts me to see this-I cannot even fathom how heartbreaking it is for you. You must be sick over the loss.”

Her sympathetic commiseration washed over him like a warm, soothing rain, overwhelming him with the desire to draw her into his arms. Not, of course, that he would have forgotten himself in such a way, but even if he had, he was certain the scowling Goddard would have happily reminded him-with his fists.

“How can we help?” she asked.

He explained the procedure, adding, “I think we’ve collected most of the broken pieces. Once we’re finished, we can start on the opened crates to see if anything is missing.” Guessing that Goddard might find it painful to crawl about on his bad leg, but suspecting the young man would rather die than admit as much, Philip said to him, “I haven’t as yet had the opportunity to look around the rest of the warehouse to see if anything else might have been disturbed. Care to join me?”

A muscle jerked in Goddard’s jaw, and Philip could almost read his thoughts. He was damning his physical limitations that had prompted Philip’s offer, knowing exactly why Philip had made the suggestion, and resenting the hell out of it. Finally Goddard nodded.

Philip slowly led the way through the labyrinth of crates, deliberately moving away from the area where Meredith and his father worked. When he was assured they were far enough away not to be overheard, he turned to face Goddard.

“You have something to say to me.” It was a statement rather than a question.

A dull flush crept over the young man’s face. Reaching out one hand to balance himself, he drew himself up to his full height and glared at Philip. “I don’t like the way ye look at her.”

Philip didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Damn it, he knew how he looked at her. And in all fairness, he couldn’t blame Goddard. Philip would feel precisely the same way about any other man who looked at Meredith with the desire he knew he himself was unable to hide. And he also couldn’t stop the sympathy coursing through him. He had no wish to stomp upon Goddard’s emotions. While he hadn’t suffered from a physical affliction as serious as Goddard’s, he’d been physically awkward, clumsy, and pudgy until he reached his majority. He recalled the pain all too well.

Yet he knew that while Meredith’s feelings for Goddard ran deep, she was not in love with him. She wasn’t the sort of woman who would kiss him as she had if her heart belonged to another man. What exactly was the nature of their relationship?

Keeping his gaze steady on Goddard, Philip said quietly, “And I can tell by the way you look at her that you love her.”

“Damned right I do, and that gives me certain rights. Like warnin‘ off fancy blokes what look at her like she’s some tasty morsel to sample, then spit aside when the flavor’s gone.”

“That is not my intention.”

“Is that so?” Goddard stuck out his jaw at a belligerent angle. “What exactly are yer intentions, then?”

“That is personal, between Meredith and me. But, knowing how you feel about her, I want to assure you that I… care for her. And would do nothing to hurt her.”

“Ye already have, you and yer bloody curse. Her reputation is everything to her. Ye’ve already damaged her business. And the way ye look at her makes it obvious ye think to ruin her as well.” Goddard’s lips curled back in a sneer. “Ye high-and-mighty lords think that any piece that catches yer fancy is fair game for yer attentions. But Miss Merrie’s too smart to fall victim to that. She’s run her whole life from it.”

“What does that mean? Run her whole life from what?”

Something flashed in Goddard’s eyes, something that clearly indicated he’d said too much, and he pressed his lips together. When it became clear Goddard wasn’t going to elaborate, Philip asked, “And how do you know that your feelings won’t get the better of you, won’t lead you to do something that could compromise her?”

A muscle jerked in Goddard’s jaw. His gaze raked over Philip, as if trying to decide how to answer. Finally he said, “I love her, but not in the way ye’re implyin‘. She ain’t old enough to be my mum, but that’s what she’s been to me, and that’s how I love her. She took care of me all those years, and now that I’m old enough, it’s my turn to look after her. I’d do anythin’ for her.” Goddard’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Anythin‘. ”

There was no mistaking the young man’s meaning. Clearly if Meredith said, Chop off Lord Greybourne’s head, Goddard would sharpen his axe. One could only hope she wouldn’t make such a request. There was no denying his relief that Goddard wasn’t in love with Meredith. Yet his words only led to more questions.

“What do you mean, she’s been a mum to you?”

Again he hesitated, as if debating whether to answer or not. Finally he said, “Had no mum or dad, least not as I can remember. Only person I had was Taggert, the chimney sweep. I was one of his climbin‘ boys.” Goddard’s eyes and voice went flat. “He had others besides me. Kept us all together in a small, filthy room. One day, while cleanin’ out a chimney, I fell.” His gaze flicked down to his leg. “I remember fallin‘, but I must have hit my head hard, ’cause I don’t remember nothin‘ else till I woke up and found meself starin’ into an angel’s blue eyes. Thought I’d died and somehow made it to heaven. Soon found out that the angel was Miss Merrie, a stranger to me. She’d picked me up out of the gutter where Taggert had dumped me. I weren’t no use to him anymore.”

“Good God,” Philip muttered, a sensation akin to nausea rolling through him at such unspeakable cruelty. “How old were you?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. ‘Bout eight. At least that’s wot Miss Merrie figured. Didn’t know when my birthday was, so Miss Merrie named that day my birthday. She’s given me a fine party every year since, with cake and biscuits and presents.”

“What ever happened to this Taggert?”

A combination of hatred and fear burned in his eyes. “I don’t know. I can only hope the bastard’s dead.”

“So Meredith brought you home to live with her family?”

“She took me in to live with her. She were like a mum to me. Fed me, clothed me, taught me to read and cipher numbers. It were just Miss Merrie and me till five years ago when Charlotte and Hope came along.”

“She lived alone when she found you? She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, sixteen. How-?”

“Forget that. Don’t matter none.” Goddard’s voice resembled a low growl, and his hands fisted at his sides. “Wot’s important is you knowin‘ wot kind of lady she is. Kind. Respectable. I owe her my life, and by God, I won’t let you or anyone else do her harm in any way.”

A fissure of shame snaked down Philip’s spine. The bumps he’d viewed as hardships in his privileged life faded to insignificance when compared to the horrors this young man had suffered.

His gaze steady on Goddard’s, Philip said, “I would never harm her. And even before you told me your story, I knew she was kind and respectable.”

“And what of this lust ye feel for her?”

“I won’t deny I feel it, but it is only one portion of the emotions she inspires. You’re assuming that this is only one-sided. What if she has feelings for me as well?”

Uncertainty flickered in Goddard’s eyes. “I hadn’t considered that,” he conceded with obvious reluctance. “If she decided you made her happy… well, I want her happy.”

Philip nodded. He felt a strong need to say something, but damned if he knew exactly what. His gaze involuntarily slipped down to Goddard’s damaged leg. He instantly sensed the young man’s tension.

“I don’t be wantin‘ yer damn pity.”

He looked up and met Goddard’s glare. “That’s not what I was thinking at all, although I cannot help but feel sorry for what you suffered as a child. No one, most especially a child, should be treated in such an inhumane manner. Indeed, rather than pity, you have my deepest admiration. Not many people would have been strong or brave enough to overcome such adversity. Thank you for telling me something so personal and painful, Goddard. Your loyalty and bravery toward Meredith are commendable.”

Goddard blinked in clear surprise, then his tense features relaxed a bit. “I thank God every day she found me. I’m a lucky man.”

Philip extended his hand. “I think you’re both lucky.”

The two men shared a measuring look. Then, after a nod, Goddard gripped his hand in a firm clasp. “Thank ye. Have to admit, ye’re not exactly what I expected. Ye don’t seem too bad, for a titled bloke, that is.”

“Thank you. Now let’s see if we all can’t get lucky and find the missing piece of stone.”

They walked back to where they’d left Meredith and the earl, this time walking along the outer wall, near the windows. They’d just turned the final corner when Philip halted so suddenly, Goddard bumped into his back. An arc of broken glass littered the wooden floor, sunlight pouring in from the broken window glinting off the jagged shards.