Who Will Take This Man?

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.

He grasped her hands and squeezed them. “I understand. But when you send for them, it’s going to be to invite them to our wedding.” He waited for her to look at him, then he leaned forward and gently kissed her, allowing himself only a brief taste.

While she wrote to her friends, he composed a quick note to Catherine and his father assuring them all was well, and one to his solicitor as well. After instructing James to deliver the letters posthaste, he and Meredith set about the painstaking task of trying to arrange the dozens of pieces back together.

After several hours, the light began to wane, and Philip lit not only candles but the fire as well. He could tell that Meredith’s head was aching; indeed, his was as well, from staring at the minute bits of the ancient language, trying to fit them together. Andrew and Bakari arrived, and although they wanted to help, Philip refused them.

“I do not want you to be exposed to the curse. If I cannot break the curse, such exposure would prove fatal should either of you decide to marry in the future.”

They’d argued, but Philip stood firm. After they’d all eaten a quick meal, Philip insisted that Meredith rest. Bakari mixed her a draught, after which she curled up on the sofa in his study, Prince cuddled in her arms, and soon was asleep.

Philip labored into the night, eyes straining against the poor light, muscles cramping with fatigue. Yet little by little the words came to life, renewing his determination, as did the sight of Meredith sleeping, bathed in the glow from the fire.

As dawn bloomed, he fitted the last pieces together. It was clear that the pearl had indeed been secreted inside the missing piece, but he did not put it back in its place, instead leaving the gem on his desk. Several bits of the stone were missing, but it was mostly legible.

Heart pounding with anticipation, he dashed to his bedchamber, his stiff muscles screaming in protest. He extracted the original piece of the Stone of Tears from its hiding place in his leather satchel at the bottom of his wardrobe. Returning to his study, he set the stone beside the puzzle he’d just completed and read the ancient language:

As my betrothed betrayed me with another,

So shall the same fate befall your lover.

To the ends of the earth

From this day forth,

Ye are the cursed,

Condemned to hell’s worst.

For true love’s very breath

Is destined for death.

Grace will fall, a stumble she’ll take,

Then suffer the pain of hell’s headache.

If ye have the gift of wedded bliss,

She will die before you kiss.

Or two days after the vows are said,

Your bride, so cursed, shall be found dead.

Once your intended has been loved in word and deed

Nothing can save her from my curse’s greed.

There is but one key

To set the cursed free.

Follow the beauty to a risky feast

As she shows her lover she is not the least

And proves through sheer daring that never shall fail,

Do the same so love, not death, shall prevail.

He rubbed his hands over his face, the stubble of his beard abrading his palms. He knew the words. Now he just needed to figure out what the bloody hell they meant. He glanced at the clock.

He had less than twenty-eight hours left to find out.

Only twelve hours remained.

Striving to fight off the panic threatening to strangle him, Philip raked his hands through his hair. With Meredith’s help, he’d spent the entire day going through his journals, searching for a clue as to what the curse meant, but without success. For Andrew’s and Bakari’s safety, Philip refused to reveal the exact words he’d pieced together, but sent them off to the museum to search through the documents there regarding anything to do with pearls, a feast, or the price of true love. He’d suggested that Meredith write another note to Charlotte, asking that she, Albert, and Hope come to the townhouse so she could break the news to them and prepare them for the worst, but she’d refused.

“Not yet. To do that makes it seem as if I’ve given up hope, and I haven’t. I have every intention of being your bride.”

Forcing his gaze from hers lest she see the fear curling through him, he continued to pore over his journals. He swallowed his mounting dread, which increased with each passing minute. Another minute without an answer. Another minute lost. He refused to look at the clock, but each time the mantel clock struck the quarter hour, his mind registered that he was swiftly running out of time. He pulled another journal toward him, simultaneously praying and cursing. Damn it! The answer had to be somewhere. Had to. Had to. Had to find it. Please…

“I don’t think we’ve paid enough attention to this,” Meredith said. He looked up. The enormous pearl rested in her palm. “Given its size and age, this single gem is no doubt worth thousands of pounds.”

Philip adjusted his spectacles, giving her his full attention. “I agree.”

“It’s the sort of gem that would be worn by someone very important. A queen, perhaps.”

“Yes, a queen such as Nefertiti or Cleopatra… both of whom were great beauties…” A memory tickled the back of his mind, mingling with the final lines of the stone’s message.

“What is it?” Meredith asked.

“I’m not certain, but you’ve sparked an idea.” Rising, he walked to the bookcase in the corner, then crouched to run his finger over the leather-bound spines on the bottom shelf. “There’s a story I recall reading years ago-” He found the volume he sought and slid it out. “Give me a moment.”

Bringing the volume to his desk, he flipped through the pages until he found the entry he sought. As he read the words, his heart began to pound and his hands to shake.

“I think I’ve found something,” he said.

She leaned over his shoulder. “What book is that?”

“It is one of my earliest journals, consisting of notes I took years ago when I had the opportunity to read Pliny the Elder’s Natural History. When you mentioned the pearl, and a queen wearing it, coupled with the last lines of the stone, it somehow struck me as familiar.”

“Who is Pliny the Elder?”

“A Roman administrator from the first century. In Natural History he wrote of an event where pearls played a pivotal role at one of the most celebrated banquets in history. Apparently Cleopatra wagered Mark Antony that she could host the most expensive dinner in history, one that could never be equaled.”

Understanding flared in her eyes. “A beauty, and a risky feast.”

“Yes. According to the story, she intended to convince Rome that Egypt possessed a heritage and wealth so vast that it was beyond conquest. That also fits in with the curse. Antony was her lover, and she was trying to prove she-Egypt-was strong, and ‘not the least.’ ” He could not keep the excitement from his voice as he read more of his notes. “The banquet indeed proved luxurious, but not any more so than Cleopatra had served on other occasions, and therefore Mark Antony thought he had won. But then Cleopatra, who was wearing a pair of large pearl earrings, removed one, crushed it, dropped it in her cup of wine, and drank it down, whereupon the judge of the wager declared that the astonished Antony had lost the bet.”

Her eyes widened. “Sheer daring.”

“Yes. It all fits into the words of the curse,” Philip said, his heart pounding with the certainty that this was the clue they’d sought. Jumping to his feet, he grasped her shoulders. “The last line of the stone. Do the same so love, not death, shall prevail. If we do as she did, love, not death shall prevail.”

Her eyes widened with comprehension and hope. Her gaze dropped to the pearl nestled in her palm. “Do you suppose this could be the other pearl, from Cleopatra’s other earring?”

“I strongly suspect that it is.”

She breathed out a long, slow breath. “Dear God. If it was worth that much then, how much do you suppose this pearl is worth now?”

“Not nearly as much as your life, Meredith.”

“But you yourself said it must be worth thousands of pounds. If it was Cleopatra’s, I’m guessing that is a conservative estimate. To consider destroying something so rare and valuable-”

He silenced her by touching his fingers to her lips. “You are more rare and valuable than anything. Come. It’s time to end this curse.” Taking her hand, he led her to the decanters, where he poured a goblet of red wine.

Feeling as if she were in a daze, Meredith watched him crush the gem into the crystal. Dear God, that gem was priceless, and he’d crushed it without a thought in his bid to save her.

“Philip… what if you’re wrong?”

For an answer, he drank from the goblet, then handed it to her. “Drink.”

She did as he bade, swallowing the remaining liquid. Then they stood in silence, watching each other. A minute passed. Meredith’s heart pounded with trepidation as they waited for a sign, a clue that the curse was broken.

Another tension-fraught minute passed. Nothing. Her trepidation escalated to panic. Philip’s eyes reflected the same worry and concern she knew he saw in hers. Dear God, drinking the crushed pearl had accomplished nothing save destroying a priceless gem. The hope that had bloomed in her heart slowly extinguished, leaving despair and heartbreak in its wake.

But suddenly she experienced an odd sensation in her head. Her eyes widened.

“What is it?” Philip asked, his anxious gaze searching her face.

“My headache,” she whispered. “It’s gone.”

A noise from the desk caught their attention, and they turned in unison. Meredith grasped Philip’s hand, her amazement turning to stunned shock as the Stone of Tears appeared to tremble upon the desktop. Then, as if pushed by an invisible hand, the stone fell from the desk, hitting the parquet floor with a thud, breaking into hundreds of pieces, which then slowly crumbled until nothing save a pile of sand remained.

Her gaze flew to Philip’s. “Dear God, did you see that?” she asked, unable to fathom what she’d just witnessed, afraid to hope that that handful of sand meant what she prayed it meant.

“I did. And except for you, it falls into the category of ‘the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ ” A slow smile curved his lips and he drew her against him. “My darling Meredith, it means that we have broken the curse-literally and figuratively. We’re free.”

Relief weakened her knees. “It’s truly over?”

“Yes. As for everything else, it’s just beginning.” He cupped her face in his hands, and his smile faded. “Bloody hell, you have no idea how frantic I was. How sick inside. How utterly terrified.”

“No more so than I, I assure you.”

“As much as I hate what Edward did, part of me understands the desperation that drove him. If anything had happened to you, it would have driven me mad.”

Anxious to erase the tension in his eyes, she smiled. “Well, thanks to you, I am fine. Luckily you had one of your moments of brilliance-at a very convenient time.”

“That moment of brilliance was inspired by you.”

“Quite the well-suited pair, are we not?”

“I was not the one who needed convincing of that.” He lowered his head and kissed her with long, slow, deep perfection, until her knees turned to porridge and she sagged against him. He left her lips and trailed hot kisses along her jaw and down her throat.

“This is the second time you saved my life, you know,” she murmured, tilting her head to give him better access. “Surely that deserves some sort of reward.”

“And don’t think for one moment that I won’t collect.”

He straightened, and she smiled at the sight of his fogged-up spectacles. Sliding them off his nose, he asked, “You know how you frequently comment on my lamentable lack of propriety?”

“I prefer to call it giving discreet hints.”

“I’m certain you do. However, I suggest you brace yourself, my dear, for the instant I get you into my bedchamber, you are going to see a shocking lack of propriety.”

Anticipation tingled down her spine. “Heavens. No doubt I should swoon at such a statement. Luckily I am not prone to the vapors.”

Raw emotion blazed from his eyes. “I’m greatly relieved to hear it.” After dropping one quick kiss onto her lips, he stalked to his desk, where he scribbled off a quick note.

“To Andrew and Bakari, letting them know the quest has ended,” he explained. Striding back to her, he dipped his knees, then swung her up into his arms. Before she could do more than gasp, he exited the room and strode down the corridor into the foyer, where they were greeted by James, who, bless him, didn’t turn an eyelash at the sight of Philip carrying her-again.

Philip handed the footman the note and said, “See that it is delivered to Mr. Stanton at the British Museum immediately, James.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And then see to it that I am not disturbed.”

“Yes, my lord.”

With that, Philip took the stairs two at a time, while Meredith clung to his neck, flames firing her skin. “You truly are incorrigible,” she whispered.

“So you are fond of telling me.” He entered his bedchamber, kicking the door closed with his boot, then locking it. He then strode to the bed and gently laid her upon the counterpane, following her down, covering her with his body. “Are you ready for me to show you exactly how incorrigible?”

Reaching up, she sifted her fingers through his disheveled hair, absorbing the delicious feel of his weight pressing her into the mattress. Smiling up into his beautiful brown eyes, she said, “My darling Philip, that falls into the category of ‘absolutely yes. ’”