The carriage had just halted outside the warehouse when the sound of a pistol shot rent the air. Heart pounding with fear and dread, Meredith grabbed Mr. Stanton’s arm. “Dear God. That came from inside the warehouse.”

“Stay here,” he said, opening the carriage door and jumping to the ground.

“I’ll do no such thing. Philip is in danger. I can help.”

He slipped a knife from his pocket. “Help? How?”

Jumping to the ground, she hefted her rock-laden reticule. “I’m armed.” She lifted her chin. “And determined. You’re not leaving me here.”

He raised his brows. “You any good with that thing?”

“Would you care for a demonstration?”

They stared at each other for several seconds, then he jerked his head in a nod. “You’ll do. Don’t make a sound, stay behind me, and for God’s sake, don’t get yourself killed.”

Clasping her hand, he led her silently forward. They’d only taken half a dozen steps when she halted and squeezed his hand. Heart pounding, she whispered, “There’s someone in the shadows.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Bakari stepped forward, a long, curved knife held in his fist.

“What are you doing here?” Andrew whispered.

“Same as you. Hope to save his life.”

Andrew nodded, then indicated with a jerk of his head that Bakari should bring up the rear. The warehouse door stood ajar, and they slipped in the opening. Moving silently forward, Meredith forced long, slow, deep breaths into her constricted lungs, fighting back her fright. If something had happened to Philip…

Keeping close to the shadows cast by the crates, they crept forward. She strained her ears, but heard nothing save the thumping of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. When they came to the final corner before they’d reach Philip’s crates, Mr. Stanton stopped. They listened for several seconds, but heard nothing. Then he cautiously peeked around the corner.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, then his agonized groan. “Philip… oh, God… bloody hell.”

Twenty-two

Mr. Stanton rushed around the corner. Knees shaking, heart lodged in her throat, Meredith immediately ran after him. Several yards away, obscured by the shadows, a man lay face down in a dark pool that was obviously blood. Another man crouched next to the prone body, his back to Meredith.

“Philip,” she whispered, fear icing her blood.

The crouching man stood and turned. Their eyes met, and she skidded to a halt. His hair was wildly mussed, his cravat untied, his spectacles askew, his clothes and face streaked with heaven knew what. And he was absolutely the most wonderful, beautiful sight she’d ever beheld.

“Meredith.” Philip opened his arms to her, and with a sob, she ran toward him, not stopping until he’d enveloped her in his strong embrace.

Philip caught her against him and held her tightly against his heart. She was safe. For now. But with Edward dead and the missing piece of stone shattered, how could he hope to save her from the curse?

“Are you all right?” Andrew asked quietly.

No. “Yes.”

Andrew’s gaze flicked down to the motionless figure. “Is he dead?”

Philip looked down at Edward’s body, and an emotion-filled shudder ran through him. Regret at the loss of a man he’d thought was his friend. Sorrow for the madness that had claimed him. Guilt for his unwitting part in contributing to that madness. And stark fury at the harm he’d wreaked-harm that could still cost him Meredith. “Yes.”

“What happened?” asked Meredith.

He quickly told them how he’d deduced that Edward was the man they sought, about the note he’d sent to lure Edward to the warehouse, and what had transpired once he’d arrived. He concluded with, “We struggled for the pistol, and it fired. It is only by the grace of God that the lead ball struck him and not me.”

He felt a tremor shiver through Meredith. Lifting her head, she looked up at him, her eyes huge. “I’ve never been so frightened as when I heard that pistol shot.”

The area surrounding Philip’s heart went hollow. Unless he broke the curse, she had a little more than a day to live-and her most frightening moment had been fearing he’d been hurt. Bloody hell.

She laid her hand against his face. “I know you’re hurt by Mr. Binsmore’s death. And his betrayal. You feel sorry for him, but at the same time you hate him for what he tried to do to all of us. You’re feeling guilty that he’s dead, that his wife died.”

He looked into her wide, worried eyes, and love hit him like a punch in the heart. She understood. Everything he was feeling. Without him saying a word.

Her gaze searched his. “Philip, it was his own greed that killed them both. It is not your fault. You were a victim. His greed nearly cost you your life. Please don’t feel guilty for being alive. Especially when I’m so grateful that you are all right.”

He pressed a kiss into her soft hair, then shot Andrew a meaningful look over the top of her head. “I hadn’t anticipated you-and Meredith-coming here, Andrew.”

“I thought you might need someone to watch your back.”

“As much as I appreciate that, I needed someone to watch Meredith.”

“I never took my eyes off her.”

“I meant for you to do so at my townhouse-as you well know. By coming here, either of you might have been hurt. Or worse.” His gaze swiveled to Bakari. “Same for you.”

Bakari held up his curved blade. “Have big knife. Thought you could use.”

A resigned sigh escaped Philip. “Thank you. But we obviously all need to talk about what the phrase ‘do not leave the house’ means.”

Walking over, Andrew clapped Philip on the shoulder. “My friend, if you think you are going to be able to talk this woman out of anything she’s set her mind to, you’re sadly mistaken. When I tried to, she threatened to cosh me with her reticule, in which she apparently carries an anvil.”

“Stones,” Meredith clarified. “Although an anvil is an excellent suggestion.”

“Speaking of stones…” Philip looked down at the broken fragments of stone scattered on the floor, and his stomach clenched. “Andrew, will you please advise the magistrate as to what’s happened here?”

“Of course.”

“While you’re gone, Meredith and I will gather up the broken pieces of stone.” He forced a smile at Meredith. “Then all I have to do is piece it back together and do as it says to break the curse.”

They shared a long look, and he clearly read the question in her wide eyes: What if he could not do it in time?

And unfortunately, they both knew the answer.

Meredith would die.


During Andrew’s absence, Philip and Meredith painstakingly picked up the broken stone fragments, placing them in a leather pouch. Picking up sliver after sliver, Philip’s frustration, anger, and fear grew. It would take days to put the pieces back into order-and he had only a matter of hours. How could he hope-

“Philip, look at this.”

He turned to Meredith, who knelt on the rough wooden floor several feet away. In between her thumb and index finger, she held a pale spherical object, which, if it hadn’t been the size of a quail’s egg, he would have guessed was a pearl.

Moving closer to her, he asked, “Where did you find it?”

“Half hidden beneath these two pieces of the broken stone.” She held out her other palm. “It looks as if it was secreted inside the stone.”

Taking the fragments and the sphere from her, he carefully affixed them together. The two pieces of stone perfectly fitted around half of the sphere.

“It looks like a pearl,” Meredith remarked.

“Indeed it does.” Carefully placing the stone pieces in the pouch, he examined the sphere, running his fingers over its slightly uneven surface. He held it up to the light, the afternoon sunlight glowing warmly against the gentle patina. He then gently ran it across his teeth. “Unless I am very much mistaken, this is a genuine pearl.” He couldn’t hide the disbelief in his own voice.

Her eyes widened. “If so, it must be worth an enormous amount of money.”

“Yes. And the fact that it was hidden inside the stone means it must have some significance regarding the curse. Come, let us finish gathering the remaining pieces.”

A quarter hour later, just as they’d determined that there were no further fragments to be found, Andrew returned with the magistrate. As soon as Philip had answered all the man’s questions, he requested that Andrew and Bakari remain to see to the body, then he left with Meredith.

He didn’t need to consult his watch to know how much time he had left to piece the stone back together.

Not nearly enough. And he would need every second.


When they reached his townhouse, Philip tried to get Meredith to rest, especially since she’d admitted on the ride home that her head still hurt, but she adamantly refused.

“I’m praying that I’ll have a lifetime with you, during which time I promise to rest frequently.” Her bottom lip trembled, a marked contrast to the stubborn tilt of her chin. “But if I do not, I will not spend what short time we have left apart. I’m going to help you. And if I cannot help, I am, at the very least, going to remain close to you.”

Since he wanted her to remain close, he didn’t argue. He led her to his private study, where he opened all the curtains to bring extra light into the room. Before they began piecing together the fragments, Meredith said, “I’d like to write a note to Charlotte and Albert, to let them know about our betrothal and that I’m planning to remain here to help you piece together the stone. I’m not going to tell them I’ve been affected by the curse unless I have to. If we are unsuccessful by tomorrow afternoon, I would like to send for them, and Hope. I… I would need to see them, talk to them, before…” Her voice trailed off, and she averted her gaze.