“It’s from Meredith, advising she plans to call upon me this morning”-he pulled out his pocket watch and consulted the time-“an hour from now. She writes that Goddard will drive her, so she is obviously safe and not alone, thank God.” Turning toward Andrew, Edward, and Bakari, he said, “I’m going to escort Catherine to our father’s townhouse to see her safely settled and to check on him. You three go to the warehouse and continue to search through the remaining crates, which will serve the dual purpose of protecting them. I’ll meet you there-after I’ve spoken to Meredith. When we’ve finished with the last crates, we’ll go to the dock to await the Sea Raven’s arrival.”

“The Sea Raven?” Edward asked.

“Yes. I received word this morning that she is scheduled to dock this evening.”

As they all quickly donned their coats, Philip said, “Andrew, you and the others use my carriage.”

“And what will you use?” Andrew asked.

“I’ll ride in Catherine’s carriage to Father’s, then hire a hack.” Grabbing his walking stick from the porcelain stand in the foyer, he stepped outside. “Be careful, and I’ll see you soon,” he said to his friends, then escorted Catherine to her waiting coach.

As their father’s townhouse was well within walking distance, the ride took only a few minutes, during which time Philip tightly clasped Catherine’s hand and inwardly thanked God that she had not been hurt. Or worse.

When they arrived at their father’s townhouse, Catherine was immediately escorted to the master bedchamber, while Philip took a moment to speak to Father’s butler. “Instruct the staff that no one other than myself is to enter this house, Evans. No one. For any reason. Nor do I want Lady Bickley or Father to leave for any reason.”

Evans’s thin face paled. “You think there’s danger about, my lord?”

“No, Evans. I know there’s danger about.” He quickly told him about the other attacks, and the intruder entering Catherine’s bedchamber.

Evans drew himself up to his full height. “Rest assured, my lord, that I’ll not allow any further harm to come to your father or sister.”

“I know, Evans. And now I’d like to see Father.” When Evans made to escort him, Philip said, “I know the way. Better for you to talk to the staff, then keep your post at the door.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Philip climbed the stairs, then turned down the corridor toward the master bedchamber. He knocked on the door, and was bade to enter by a muffled voice. Entering the room, he closed the door, then crossed the royal blue Axminster rug to the bed. Catherine sat in a wing chair next to the far side of the bed, clasping Father’s hand.

Philip’s insides tensed as he took in the white bandage encircling Father’s head, and his arm supported by a splint and heavily bandaged as well. Pain radiated from his pale, pinched face and was clearly reflected in his eyes, but he managed a wan smile.

“Good to see you, son.”

Philip grasped his hand, and fought to push back the guilt and anger stabbing him. “Good to see you as well, Father. How are you feeling?”

“A bit worse for the wear, I’m afraid, but Doctor Gibbens assures me I’ll make a full recovery.” He pursed his lips. “Damn impertinent man. Told me it was fortunate I possessed such a hard head. When I asked him if he recalled to whom he was speaking, he had the temerity to wink at me and say,‘ ’Tis fortunate you possess such a hard head, my lord.‘ Can you credit such impudence? Clearly he thinks that simply because we’ve known each other since we were lads he can take such verbal liberties. Well, I let him know that as soon as I am not laid so low I intend to give him a dressing-down and a thrashing at the chess table.”

A lump swelled Philip’s throat. Although in pain, clearly Father was attempting a bit of levity for his and Catherine’s sake, a fact which made Philip feel worse rather than better. Forcing a smile and what he hoped passed for a light tone, he said, “I’ll wager Dr. Gibbens said he would look forward to that.”

“As a matter of fact, those were his exact words.”

“Ah, yes, mind-reading. One of the talents I developed abroad. Did I not mention that?”

“No,” Father said. “And I would like to point out that I am not hardheaded.”

“Of course not,” Philip and Catherine said simultaneously.

Father winced with obvious discomfort and all remnants of Philip’s levity vanished. Clasping his father’s hand between both of his own, he briefly explained about the other attacks, concluding with, “I believe there is a connection between these attacks and my search for the missing piece of the Stone of Tears. Someone is attempting to make me suffer by hurting those close to me. Unfortunately, he has succeeded. Until now.” He looked steadily into his father’s eyes. “I will find out who is responsible and I will stop him. I give you my word, Father.”

A long look passed between them. Then Father nodded and squeezed his hand. “You’re a fine man, son. I have every faith that you will keep your word.”

A breath he hadn’t even realized he held whooshed past Philip’s lips-a breath that carried away a bit of the millstone weight that had hung about his heart since his mother’s death. Neither he nor Father were great communicators, a fact that had compounded the stilted awkwardness and distance between them over the years. But with those simple words his father had just uttered, he felt as if a bridge had been constructed. And he had every intention of crossing its span. He hoped his news would provide the first step.

“Father, regarding my marriage… I want you to know I am more determined than ever to solve the curse because I’ve met the woman I wish to marry-and the thought of not having her as my wife is unthinkable.”

Catherine clasped her hands over her heart, a sound of surprised delight coming from her. “Oh, Philip, I’m so happy you found someone you care for.”

Before he could tell Catherine that he more than merely cared for his future wife, Father said, “Excellent news. Clearly last night’s dinner party was a success. Knew that Miss Chilton-Grizedale would come up with the goods. Highly intelligent chit, even though the first arrangement she planned sank like a stone. So, who is the young lady you’ve chosen? Must tell you, the betting book at White’s is leaning heavily in favor of Lady Penelope.”

“Actually, it is Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

“What about her?”

“She is the young lady I’ve chosen.”

“She is the lady you’ve chosen to select a suitable bride for you, yes?”

“No. She is the lady I’ve chosen to be my suitable bride.”

A deafening silence permeated the room. Then Catherine rose from her chair. Without a word, she moved around the bed until she stood in front of him. “I have one question,” she said softly, her concern-filled eyes searching his. “Do you love her?”

“Completely.”

Some of the tension drained from her gaze. “Does she love you?”

“That is two questions, Catherine.”

“Indulge me.” Reaching out, she rested her hand against his face. “I want only your happiness, Philip.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she added, “I would not want you to make the same mistake I did and marry someone who does not care for you.”

A spurt of anger toward Bickley rushed through Philip, and he renewed his vow to have a long talk with his brother-in-law as soon as his own affairs were settled. “Not to worry, Imp,” he whispered in her ear. “She cares for me. She makes me happy. And I’ll make her happy. And we’ll both make you an aunt many times over.”

She favored him with a dazzling smile-a smile that could have been snuffed out if that bastard had gotten his hands on her last night. “Then it would seem that congratulations are in order. I wish you and Miss Chilton-Grizedale much happiness, Philip.”

He chucked her under the chin. “Thank you.”

From the bed, Father cleared his throat. “I must say, Philip, that your announcement caught me quite off guard.” He looked at Catherine. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”

“I’ll be in the drawing room.” After giving Philip’s upper arms a bracing squeeze, she quit the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

“I’m afraid I do not have time right now for a lengthy discussion, Father. Indeed, there is nothing to discuss, as my mind is made up. I am going to marry Meredith.”

A red flush crept up Father’s face, made all the more pronounced by the stark white bandage. “How can you consider such a thing, Philip? You gave me your word-”

“To marry. And I shall. As soon as the curse is broken.”

His father’s lips thinned into a flat line of disapproval, erasing the fragile unity they’d achieved just moments ago. “She is not of our class, Philip. Good God, the woman is in trade. What do you know of her family? Where does she come from? Who are her parents?” Before Philip could utter a word, Father plowed on, “I may not know her parents’ names, but I know who they are. They are nobody. People of no consequence.”

“It matters not. She may not be a peer’s daughter, but she is perfectly respectable. In addition, she is kind, generous, interesting-as you yourself said-intelligent, and she makes me happy.”

“I’m certain she’s delightful. So take the chit as a mistress. And marry properly.”

Philip clenched his hand to keep his temper in check. “By ‘properly’ you mean to someone who will bring money, prestige, and perhaps holdings to the marriage.”

Father looked relieved. “Precisely.”

“I’m afraid I’m not willing to sacrifice my happiness to further fatten the already rotund family coffers, Father.”

Silence stretched between them for several seconds. “Your years abroad changed you, Philip. I never thought you would dishonor your heritage this way.”