Who Will Take This Man?

Fifteen

The following morning, Philip left his bedchamber and started down the stairs toward the dining room, intending to eat quickly, then depart for the warehouse. He hoped Andrew would be present to update him on his progress with his investigations. Bakari stood in the foyer, and Philip noted that his face bore subtle signs of a sleepless night.

“Bad night?” he asked, studying Bakari’s face.

Something flashed in Bakari’s obsidian eyes, but vanished so quickly Philip decided he’d imagined it. “Sleep hard to find.”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Philip murmured. Actually, sleep had been impossible to find. “I want to thank you again for all your hard work in planning and executing last night’s dinner.” He laid his hand on Bakari’s shoulder, a gesture of thanks and friendship, but the smaller man winced.

Philip immediately removed his hand. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Sore from hanging material in study.”

“Oh, well, yes, I imagine you would be, which is why I wanted to again express my appreciation. I meant to say so last night when I returned from escorting Miss Chilton-Grizedale home, but you weren’t about.” He offered Bakari a smile. “Was odd not having you awaiting my return, but with all the extra work you did, I deduced you’d retired due to exhaustion.”

Again, something flashed in Bakari’s eyes. Then he inclined his head. “As you say, extra work exhausting. Did she like?”

“Yes. It was a most enjoyable evening.” Until he’d allowed his passions to overwhelm him and thus scare her like a mouse cornered by a cobra. Until they’d shared a silent, uncomfortable journey back to her home.

Bakari’s sharp gaze studied him. “You marry her?”

“I hope so.”

“What she say when you ask?”

“I didn’t ask her. But I plan to. The next time I see her.”

“Next time might be too late.”

Philip considered asking him to explain his cryptic comment, but he knew from the stubborn set of Bakari’s lips that his friend would say nothing further. Besides, Bakari, in his reticent way, had merely voiced the concern that Philip hadn’t been able to erase from his mind. He’d honored Meredith’s request to postpone asking her to be his wife, but he’d begun to fear that her time spent thinking would be used for coming up with excuses not to marry him, instead of reasons why they were well suited.

He suspected he knew why she’d balked at him asking her. The information he’d inadvertently discovered about her past while questioning one of the tavern keeps about Taggert would certainly give her pause. Perhaps he should have told her that he knew. But he wanted to give her the chance to tell him. To trust him with the truth. He’d tried to draw her out about her past last evening, but she’d sidestepped his efforts. Perhaps now that he’d told her of his own painful past, she’d be more willing to confide in him.

Bakari handed him a note. “This just arrived.”

Philip took the folded vellum, broke the wax seal, then scanned the brief missive. “The Sea Raven has been spotted off the coast. It is expected to dock this evening. Starting tomorrow, the search for the missing piece of the Stone of Tears can be expanded to the artifacts aboard the Sea Raven.” He tucked the vellum into his waistcoat pocket. “Is Andrew about?”

“Dining room.”

Nodding his thanks, Philip proceeded down the corridor. He entered the dining room and halted at the sight of Andrew, whose normally amiable countenance bore a bruised jaw and swollen lip.

“Does that hurt as much as it appears to?” he asked.

Andrew winced. “Makes eating rather unpleasant, but my ribs hurt enough so that I barely notice.”

“Is this a result of your investigations?”

“I’m not certain. I’ll tell you once you’re seated across from me. It requires too much effort to talk across the room.”

Frowning, Philip crossed to the sideboard, where he helped himself to some eggs and thinly sliced ham, then settled himself across from his friend. “I’m listening.”

“First tell me how your evening with Miss Chilton-Grizedale fared.” Andrew made a great show of examining Philip’s face. “Doesn’t look as if she bruised you.”

“Well, she didn’t cosh me.” At least not physically.

“A good sign, that. Is that as good as the news gets?”

“I’m afraid so. After a bit of a bumpy start, things were going along quite well-until she realized I planned to propose. Then she all but panicked. Asked me to please not ask her then, to give her time to think first.”

Andrew raised his brows. “A curious reaction, don’t you think?”

Not anxious to pursue that line of conversation, Philip gave a noncommittal shrug. “She is cautious. And with this bloody curse over my head, not to mention my alleged inability to… perform-which is still being alluded to in The Times-I’m not precisely the most eligible man about. Unlike you.”

An inexorably sad expression passed over Andrew’s features, and guilt tweaked Philip that his attempt at levity had clearly caused his friend distress. “Yet I would gladly relinquish my bachelor status if I could have the woman I love,” Andrew said softly.

Love. It was a topic that, along with many others, had plagued Philip through the long, sleepless night. And Andrew was just the man to help him. “You say you love this woman,” he said. “How do you know?”

Andrew studied him through serious eyes. “You know because your heart pounds at the sight of her, at the sound of her voice. Your thoughts become jumbled when she’s close to you. No matter where you are, what you’re doing, she’s in your mind. Whether you’re together or apart, you’re completely aware of her. You know because you’d do anything to have her. Anything to be with her. And when you contemplate your life without her, the years just stretch before you like a dark, empty void.”

Philip leaned back in his chair, absorbing Andrew’s words with a dawning sense of amazement. By God, he felt all those things, and so many more, for Meredith. This didn’t simply fall into the category of “she appealed to him” or “they were well suited” or “he enjoyed her company.” No, this was-

“Bloody hell. I’m in love. ”

Andrew laughed. “Well, of course you are. Surely that cannot surprise you.”

Philip stared at him. “You knew? Before me?”

“God, yes. Your love for her is so obvious, I don’t know how you can see, for all the little arrow-bearing cupids circling about your head, obscuring your vision. It’s been obvious from the first time I saw you and Miss Chilton-Grizedale together.”

Damn. When had he become so transparent? And when had Andrew become so bloody perceptive? “I see. And Meredith… does she have these little vision-obscuring, arrow-bearing cupids flitting about her head as well?”

Andrew stroked his chin, wincing when he touched his bruised jaw. “Miss Chilton-Grizedale is not an easy woman to read. She is clearly attracted to you, and it is my guess that she cares for you deeply. Whether or not she will allow herself to act upon her feelings is difficult to predict. However, if she is like most people, given the correct enticements, she can be persuaded.” A muscle ticked in Andrew’s jaw. “I envy you, Philip. You’re free to pursue the woman you love.”

“I’m free to pursue her, but to what end? Unless I rid myself of this curse, I am not free to marry her.” His words settled upon him like a dark shroud of gloom. If he didn’t find a way to get rid of the curse, Meredith would be lost to him. Bad enough that he’d break his word to Father-that would cost him his honor and integrity. Now he stood to lose his heart as well.

“Regarding the curse-I’ve some good news about the Sea Raven,” Philip said. Withdrawing the note from his waistcoat pocket, he handed it to Andrew, who scanned the few lines. “I’m planning to go to the docks this evening to supervise the unloading and transporting of the crates. We can start searching through them tomorrow.”

Andrew nodded his agreement, then passed back the note. Tucking the missive away again, Philip said, “Now, tell me about your interesting evening.”

“I spent the day and evening near the docks, interviewing crew members from the Dream Keeper. Unfortunately, I didn’t discover anything helpful. On my way home I stopped at Gentleman Jackson’s, hoping to relieve some of my frustrations brought on by my unsuccessful inquiries.”

“Knowing firsthand your pugilistic abilities, I find it incredible that your face bears such a colorful array of bruises.”

“Actually, I pounded the piss out of several dandies at the esteemed boxing emporium, suffering nary a scratch myself. It was afterwards that I received these mementos of the evening.”

Philip looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup. “Afterwards?”

“Yes. Moments after I departed Gentleman Jackson’s, I was attacked. Bastard jumped me from behind.” Reaching up, he touched the back of his head and winced. “Didn’t manage to knock me out, but hit me hard enough to get me down. He was introducing his boot to my ribs when several gentlemen happened upon us. The bastard ran off, luckily before he inflicted any serious damage.”

Unease slithered down Philip’s spine. “Did you see him?”

“No. The gentlemen who ran him off helped me back into Gentleman Jackson’s, where my injuries were tended to. Then I hired a hack and returned here.”

“Damn it, Andrew, why didn’t you tell me last night?”

“Bakari wasn’t in the foyer when I returned, so I deduced he had retired. On the chance that you were still, ah, occupied with your guest, I chose not to seek you out. There was nothing you could have done.”

“I don’t like this, Andrew. First Edward was attacked, now you, only hours after you questioned crew members.” The words of the second note echoed through his mind. The suffering begins now. “This is no coincidence. In fact-”

His words were cut off by Bakari’s appearance in the doorway. “Mr. Binsmore,” Bakari said. He withdrew, and Edward entered the room.

“Good morning, Philip, Andrew,” Edward said, heading toward the nearest chair.

Philip instantly noted his friend’s gingerly walk. “Are you all right, Edward?”

“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

“You’re limping.”

“Am I? Well, I’m afraid I’m still sore from the attack at the warehouse the other evening.”

“Ah. Well, although I’m sorry you’re still hurting, I’m relieved you’ve suffered no further injuries since then.”

“Further injuries?” He lowered himself into the chair next to Andrew and winced. “What do you mean?”

“Andrew was accosted last night.”

Edward’s eyes widened and he turned toward Andrew. “Egad, your face is bruised! Are you all right?”

“Yes. Just sore.”

“Were you robbed?” Edward asked.

Andrew shook his head. “Perhaps that was his intent, but he was frightened off before he had the chance.”

Philip’s hands fisted with anger. “Bakari should have a look at your injuries. Both of you.”

“He’s already seen to mine,” Andrew said. “First thing this morning. Has my ribs trussed up like a goose on its way to the oven.”

“And I’m fine,” Edward added quickly. “Except for some stiffness in my back, the only thing still troubling me is this.” He raised his bandaged hand. “I unwrapped it yesterday and discovered several bits of glass still embedded in the back of my hand. I removed them, then put on a clean dressing. It’s feeling better already.”

Philip nodded. “All right. Tell me, Andrew, did your attacker leave any sort of note with you, as he did with Edward?”

“No.”

Edward’s brows shot upward. “You think the same person is responsible?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

Bakari again appeared in the doorway, his lips set in a grim line that trickled unease down Philip’s spine. “Your study,” Bakari said to Philip. “Come quickly.”

Philip, Andrew, and Edward exchanged a quick look, then all three hurried down the corridor after Bakari. Philip entered the room first. All remnants of last night’s dinner had vanished-the opulent fabrics, the plush pillows, leaving nothing behind save his memories. His gaze swiveled toward his desk, and his blood ran cold.

Striding quickly across the room, he halted alongside his mahogany desk. Sticking up from the center was the silver hilt of a knife whose blade was embedded in the polished wood and thrust through a folded piece of vellum.

“What the devil…?” Edward murmured as he, Andrew, and Bakari joined him.

“When did you find this?” Philip asked Bakari in a sharp voice as his eyes scanned the room for anything else out of place.

“Just now.”

“You didn’t see this when you cleaned the room this morning?”

“Cleaned room last night. Started after you leave with lady.”

“What time did you finish?”

“Three.”

“And then you retired?”

Bakari nodded.

“That means this was left sometime between three a. m. and now.” Curling his fingers around the hilt of the knife, Philip pulled the blade free, then held the glinting blade up to the sunlight filtering in through the window. “It’s identical to the knife found in the warehouse after the robbery.”

“Yes,” agreed Edward. “Which means that there’s nothing remarkable about it. It’s the same sort of knife most men carry.”

Philip picked up the vellum and unfolded it. Those you hold dear are suffering. As will you.

His blood ran cold.

“What does it say?” Andrew asked.

His mind racing, Philip passed him the note. “It is the same handwriting as the other two notes.”

“Do you recognize it?” Andrew asked.

“No.”

“Which means it is someone you don’t know,” said Edward.

“Perhaps,” Philip said. “Or it could be someone I know, who is disguising his handwriting so I do not recognize it.” Those you hold dear are suffering. “First Edward, now Andrew… bloody hell, who does he plan to hurt next?” The instant the question left his lips, Philip froze. “Bloody hell, plan to hurt? Has this bastard already harmed someone else I love? I need to check on my father, Catherine, and Meredith immediately.”

The front door brass knocker sounded. They all exchanged a quick glance, then filed out of the room, Philip in the lead. Striding quickly to the foyer, Philip yanked open the door. Catherine stood on the porch. One look at her pale face tightened his gut with alarm.

The instant she stepped across the threshold, he grasped her by the shoulders. “Are you all right, Catherine?”

“Yes.” But her bottom lip trembled and a sheen filled her eyes, giving the lie to her claim.

“But something has happened,” Philip said, his insides cramping with dread.

“I’m afraid so. Did Father send you a note this morning?”

“No.” He shot a questioning look toward Bakari for confirmation, and his friend shook his head.

“He no doubt thought you’d already have departed for the warehouse. But I stopped here on my way to Father’s house, hoping you’d still be home. Father was attacked on his way home from his club last night.”

Philip’s hands tightened on her shoulders, and he fought to control the dread and rage curling through him. You bastard. “How serious are his injuries?”

“His arm was broken. The doctor reset the bone, but it’s very painful. He also has an egg-sized lump on the back of his head. According to the note he sent me this morning, he’d just departed White’s when he was accosted from behind. Father recalled a sharp pain in the back of his head, then nothing else until he awoke, on a sofa in White’s, being tended to by the doctor. A gentleman leaving the club found Father lying in the street.” Her chin quivered and she blinked rapidly. “With his frail health, we’re lucky he survived at all.”

Philip’s gaze sought out Andrew’s, whose lips were pressed into a flat line. Edward and Bakari looked equally grim.

“I’m afraid there’s more,” Catherine said, regaining his attention. “Last night, an intruder entered my bedchamber.”

Everything in Philip froze, and for several seconds he couldn’t speak as full-blown fury raced through him. Before he could find his voice, she continued, “I was awakened by a noise on my balcony. At first I thought it was the wind, but then I saw a black-garbed figure entering my chamber through the French doors.”

“What did you do?” Philip asked, biting back his outrage that whoever wanted to hurt him was doing so in this way. If you want me, come after me, you cowardly bastard.

“I jumped up, grabbed the fire poker, and swung it at him for all I was worth. As it was very dark, I’m not quite sure what part of him I hit, but I believe it was his upper arm. I raised the poker to swing again, and he ran. Vaulted over the balcony to the garden and disappeared into the mews.” She rested her palm against Philip’s cheek. “Stop looking so worried. He didn’t hurt me. Truly.”

Despite the tension cramping his stomach, a ghost of a smile whispered across Philip’s lips. “Coshed him with the fire poker, did you? Good girl, Imp. You always were a spitfire.”

A shaky laugh sounded from her throat. “At that moment, perhaps, but seconds later I was shaking, and, I’m embarrassed to admit, quite weepy. I kept thinking, what if I had not awakened when I did?”

A shudder ran through her, and Philip gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’ve always been the bravest girl I know. And even the bravest warriors sometimes cry after the battle is over.”

“You’re certain you weren’t hurt, Lady Bickley?” Andrew asked, his voice tight.

Catherine turned toward Andrew. “Yes. I-” Moving from Philip’s embrace, she stepped toward Andrew, her eyes filling with surprise and concern. “Good heavens, Mr. Stanton. It seems I should be asking that question of you.”

“Andrew was also attacked last evening,” Philip said. He quickly told her about the threatening notes. Just as he finished, the brass knocker again sounded. Bakari answered the door, then handed Philip a note. Breaking the seal, Philip scanned the few lines, and relief flooded him.

“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.”

“I find no dishonor in marrying for love rather than fortune. Now, I don’t want to appear abrupt, but I must leave, and I consider this subject closed. I’m sorry you were hurt, and very relieved you are all right.”

“Believe me, this subject is not at all closed.”

“It is entirely and permanently closed. I am getting married, and I’m afraid, Father, that you do not get to cast a vote on my choice for a wife. Although I very much would like your blessing, I intend to have her, with or without it. I shall visit you again as soon as I am able.”

He quickly departed the room, then hurried down the stairs, where he said a quick good-bye to Catherine, and reiterated to Evans his instructions regarding not allowing anyone entry into the house. He then hastily donned his coat and accepted his walking stick from Evans. It was only a few minutes’ walk back to his own townhouse, where he would await Meredith.

God help that bastard if he thought to venture anywhere near Meredith. If you do, you bastard, I suggest you enjoy these next few hours. Because they will be your last.

Sitting on a stone bench situated along her favorite shady path in Hyde Park, Meredith breathed in the cool morning breeze, which lifted the gentle scent of flowers and earth and encouraged birds to twitter. Her gaze fell upon Charlotte, Albert, and Hope, who examined a group of butterflies fluttering near a group of colorful blooms a short distance away.

Tears pooled in Meredith’s eyes at the sight of her friends. Tears of joy, because Charlotte and Albert clearly loved each other deeply, and they were obviously so happy together. And, if she were completely honest with herself, tears of envy, because she wanted that sort of love for herself, and it could never be.

When they’d told her this morning that they planned to marry, she’d been momentarily stunned into silence. Charlotte and Albert? Why, she’d never considered such a thing. Yet, turning the idea over in her mind, she saw how well suited they were. They had much in common, knew and accepted each other’s pasts, and Albert couldn’t love Hope more than if she were his own child. She recalled looks given when the other was not aware and the odd tension she’d occasionally felt between Albert and Charlotte-tension she’d shrugged off as one of them being tired or preoccupied. She had not, even once, considered that they might be preoccupied with each other. Good Lord, what sort of matchmaker was she, failing to see love when it resided directly under her nose?

A humorless laugh escaped her and she blinked back her tears. Obviously she wasn’t a very good matchmaker at all, for a good matchmaker would not be so foolish as to fall in love with the man for whom she was supposed to find a suitable bride.

During the sleepless night, she’d taken a hard, cold, bald-faced look at the facts and had not allowed herself the luxury of hiding behind platitudes and rationalizations or looking the other way.

The disturbing fact was that she had-very unwisely- fallen in love. Bad enough that she should do so, but the fact that she’d fallen in love with a viscount-the heir to an earldom-well, that fell in the category of “unequivocally stupid.”

Philip needed a wife, and after last night, it was clear he planned to overlook their glaring class differences and propose. Her heart lurched, sick with loss and regret. She would have given anything, anything, to be able to accept.

But as she painfully knew, much more than glaring class differences kept her from being a suitable bride for Philip. And although she dreaded doing so, it was time to tell him that even if he broke the curse, she could never be his wife.

She rose, and together with Albert, Charlotte and Hope, they walked back to the gig, which they’d left near the Park Lane entrance, almost directly across from Philip’s townhouse. All she had to do was walk across the street and tell him.

“Are ye certain ye don’t want us to wait?” Albert asked as he helped Hope up onto the gig’s seat.

“No, thank you,” Meredith said, with what she hoped passed for a cheerful smile. “I’m not certain how long my discussion with Lord Greybourne will last.”

“But how will you get home, Aunt Merrie?” Hope asked.

“I’ll ask Lord Greybourne to arrange transportation for me.”

When Albert appeared about to voice an objection, she added quickly, “Lord Greybourne no doubt plans to go to the warehouse to continue searching through the remaining crates, and I may accompany him.” She bit back her guilt at that falsehood. After her conversation with Philip, she wouldn’t be seeing him again.

When they were all settled in the gig, Albert took up the reins. “We’ll see you later,” Charlotte said, her eyes glowing with happiness.

A lump swelled in Meredith’s throat, and, not trusting her voice, she simply smiled and nodded.

“ ‘Bye, Aunt Merrie,” Hope said, waving.

“Good-bye, Poppet,” she managed, then blew the child a kiss.

The gig moved down Park Lane, and Meredith watched it, waving, until the conveyance vanished from her sight. Then she stood for another minute, oblivious to the pedestrians moving in front of and behind her, staring across the road at Philip’s townhouse, gathering her courage, trying desperately to ignore the little voice that cruelly reminded her that everything she wanted was inside that house. And that she would never have it. And because she never would, it was time to sever all ties with Philip.

Drawing a resolute breath, her gaze riveted on her destination, she stepped into the street. She’d taken half a dozen steps when she heard a familiar voice yell a frantic, “Meredith!”

Surprise halted her steps. Looking about, she saw Philip running toward her, his face a mask of panic. “Meredith, watch out!”

Suddenly aware of the sound of pounding hooves, she looked over her shoulder. A carriage, drawn by four black horses, their legs flashing at full gallop, was bearing down on her. Her mind screamed at her to run, but terror froze her for several seconds. Seconds, she realized in a flash, that would cost her her life.