Philip looked at his audience and struggled to keep his voice steady. “We prayed the entire journey, and the moment we docked in London, Edward departed for his home just outside the city. Several hours later, a message arrived from him.” His throat tight, he withdrew Edward’s note from his waistcoat and handed it to the duke. “Mary was dead. She’d passed away without warning. The date of her death was exactly two days after Edward had translated the Stone of Tears.”

While the duke scanned the missive, Philip went on, “As you see from the note, Edward reports that during the two days prior to her death, Mary had suffered a fall in the garden, followed by the onset of a severe headache. The letter convinced me, and him as well, that the curse remains unbroken.” He plunged his fingers through his hair. “I quite understand that it is difficult to believe in such things. That which cannot be seen or touched, things that indeed stretch the bounds of credulity, are hard to accept. Or are dismissed as coincidence. However, based on my years of study and research, I no longer believe in coincidence. And my belief in the power of this curse is supported-most tragically-by Edward, who is considered an expert on such matters. And will also be supported by my American colleague, Andrew Stanton, who sits amongst the wedding guests.”

The duke’s face turned crimson. “I don’t believe in this tomfoolery you are spouting.”

“That is certainly your choice, but that does not make these curses any less real. My friend Edward Binsmore’s wife is dead as a result of this one.”

The duke waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, but a flicker of uncertainty flashed in his eyes. “Sarah informed me about her fall at the dressmaker’s shop. Clearly the chit must have struck her head during the incident if she even listened to this cock-and-bull tale. I cannot believe you passed along such a nonsensical tale.”

Philip looked steadily at Lord Hedington, hoping the man would see the depth of his sincerity. “I could not be responsible for your daughter’s death. And I very much believe that if we had married she would have died. You may not believe in the curse,” he said quietly, “but given the facts I presented, can you honestly tell me that you would be willing to risk your daughter’s life on the possibility that I am wrong?”

Lord Hedington pressed his lips tightly together, then finally shook his head.

“Given the circumstances,” Philip continued, “I told Lady Sarah I quite understood if she chose to cry off. Indeed, I strongly encouraged her to do so.”

Lord Hedington’s face paled a bit. “And if she hadn’t?”

Philip’s gaze did not waver. “I would not have married her. Not today. I cannot consider doing so until I determine if there is a way to break the curse.”

“Then why the bloody hell did you come here today?” the duke demanded.

“I did not know of Lady Sarah’s decision. I tried to see her yesterday, but she remained indisposed. If she’d chosen to come to the church today, I wanted to talk to her, explain again why we could not marry, at least at this time. Encourage her to consider a postponement. I couldn’t just abandon my bride at the altar.”

“As you did three years ago,” Philip’s father said in a frigid voice. Philip turned toward his father and they exchanged a long look. He and Father had already engaged in this argument the day Philip arrived back in London, but the icy expression in the earl’s eyes clearly indicated they were about to have it again, regardless of the fact that they had an audience.

“I am gravely disappointed in you, Philip,” his father said quietly. “When I agreed to finance your antiquarian studies and expeditions abroad, clearly it was a very grave error on my part not to have stipulated a date by which you were to return and marry, but it foolishly had not occurred to me that you would still be trotting about the globe on the eve of your thirtieth birthday. I honored my part of the bargain. It is to your great dishonor that you refuse to do the same.”

“It is not dishonorable to save a woman’s life, Father.”

He made a dismissive sound. “Your reasons are based on superstition, coincidence, and nonsense, and quite frankly sound like nothing more than a pitiful excuse to renege on your duty. Sadly, I cannot say that I am unduly surprised by this turn of events. You brought embarrassment and scandal to the family when you did not return to honor the marriage I arranged for you three years ago.”

“An arrangement you made without my prior knowledge or consent.” He yanked on the damn cravat that strangled him like a noose. “The reason I returned to England now was to honor our agreement and marry.”

“Because I’m dying.”

“Because I always intended to do so. Someday. Your health made me realize that someday is now.”

“Yet the first thing you tell me is that you will not honor our agreement. Because of some silly stone.”

Frustration clenched Philip’s hands. From the corner of his eye he noted that Lord Hedington and Miss Chilton-Grizedale were listening to this exchange with wide-eyed, rapt attention. Well, the hell with them. They certainly weren’t the first people to disapprove of him. “My honor and integrity mean everything to me. If I were not honorable, I would have remained silent. Married Lady Sarah, and after her untimely demise two days later, I would have simply gone on with my life in the way I wished, returning to Egypt or Greece or Rome, having honored my agreement to marry.”

His words hung in the air between them, the ticking of the mantel clock the only sound breaking the prolonged silence.

Finally Miss Chilton-Grizedale cleared her throat. “You mentioned trying to determine if there is a way to break the curse, my lord. Do you think there is a way to do so?”

He turned toward her. The greenish hue had left her skin. She studied him through serious, aqua-blue eyes, and he mentally approved her calm outward demeanor. Imperious though she was, she was obviously not the frail sort of female who flew into the boughs at the slightest provocation, and her thought processes were clear and concise. He could see why his father considered her a good strategist.

“I do not know if there is a way to break the curse,” Phillip admitted. “There often is. Unfortunately the Stone of Tears itself is broken, so if there is a remedy to the curse, it is missing. I am, however, hopeful that the other portion might be amongst the artifacts and items that either sailed on my ship or on the second ship which departed several days before mine. I’ve learned that that ship, the Sea Raven, has not yet docked-most likely due to weather or repair delays-but I am expecting it any day now. And even before it arrives, there are dozens of packed crates to unseal and examine.”

“Wouldn’t you remember finding such a piece of rock?” she asked.

Philip shook his head in frustration. “I do not recall seeing any such stone. However, that does not mean that it is not amongst the artifacts. I did not see every item that was packed away. It is quite possible that it was sent back to England on a previous shipment and is already awaiting me in the British Museum. Rest assured I will devote myself to the search. But in the meantime, we must deal with the situation at hand.”

“Which is the bride’s absence at your wedding,” Miss Chilton-Grizedale murmured.

“And your refusal to marry,” Philip’s father added in a tight voice.

He turned to his father and met glacial blue eyes. “Yes. At least I refuse until such time as I discover a way to break the curse, assuming there is a way. If I am able to find a way to break the curse, I shall not hesitate to marry Lady Sarah.”

“And if there isn’t a remedy? Or you cannot discover it?”

“Then I cannot marry. Anyone. Ever.”

Father’s lips narrowed into a tight line. “You gave me your word.”

“But that was before-”

“Before nothing. Promises were made. Agreements struck. I shudder to think of the social and financial consequences should you not marry Lady Sarah.”

“The financial consequences will be substantial, I assure you,” Lord Hedington broke in, his tone ominous.

“Good God, if this ridiculous curse story gets out,” his father fumed, “the scandal will ruin us all. People will believe you are insane.”

“Is that what you think? That I’ve gone mad?” Father’s reaction was exactly what he’d expected, yet it was impossible to suppress the hurt and frustration from his voice.

Color suffused his father’s pale cheeks. “I would almost prefer that to believing you’ve made up this asinine excuse to sidestep your duty and promise. Again.”

“You once told me that a man is only as good as his word.” A long look passed between them, fraught with memories of a dark day standing over Mother’s casket. “It is advice I took to heart. I give you my word that avoiding my duty is not what I am doing.”

His father squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds, then met Philip’s gaze. “If I were to pretend to believe all this rubbish, I’d say that clearly you believe very strongly in this curse. However, that belief is misguided, and, for all our sakes, you must put aside these… notions and attempt to correct this debacle you’ve created. You’ve spent too many years away from civilization, immersed in ancient customs that simply do not apply in today’s modern world.”

“There is no mistaking the words scripted on the stone.”

“They are words, Philip. Nothing more. From what you’ve told me, they are the ramblings of a jilted, jealous man. They have no power-unless you insist upon giving power to them. Do not do so.”

“I’m afraid I cannot oblige you, Father, other than to assure you that I shall devote myself to the search for the missing piece of stone.”