WHO WILL TAKE THIS MAN?

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  “This has nothing to do with another woman, your grace. The problem is that I am... cursed.”

  No one spoke for several long seconds. Finally Lord Hedington cleared his throat and, after casting a surreptitious glance at Miss Chilton-Grizedale, said in a low voice, “It is, I believe, quite common for men to occasionally suffer from such an... affliction. My daughter’s abundant beauty will surely rekindle your... urges.”

  A choking sound erupted from Miss Chilton-Grizedale, and Philip’s father paled. Philip actually felt a blush creeping up his neck. Bloody hell, he could not possibly be having this conversation. He dragged his hands down his face. “Your grace, I am not impotent.”

  There was no mistaking the duke’s, or Philip’s father’s, relief. Before anyone could speak, Philip continued, “I am speaking of a curse, one written on a broken stone tablet I discovered just before sailing from Alexandria.”

  Philip’s mind drifted back to Alexandria, to the day, months earlier, when he’d found the stone. Squinting against the bright sun, breathing in the hot, dry air that felt and smelled like no other... air redolent with the scent of history and ancient civilizations. Air that he would miss with an ache he couldn’t describe when he departed the following day for the country of his birth. To honor an agreement he’d made a decade earlier. An agreement he could postpone no longer, now that his father was dying.

  He’d been nearly ready to quit for the day—his last day—but his reluctance to put away his tools—for the last time—to wipe the dust and dirt and sand from his hands—for the last time—propelled him to continue. And minutes later...

  “The day before I was to depart Alexandria for my voyage back to England, I made a discovery—an alabaster box. Inside the box was an intriguing stone with writing upon it in an ancient language. As ancient languages are of special interest to me, I was especially excited about the find. I took the box and retired to my cabin on board the Dream Keeper in preparation for our departure at dawn. When I deciphered the stone, I realized it was a curse.”

  Lord Hedington’s countenance resembled a thundercloud. “What sort of person places any credence in such nonsense—”

  “It is not nonsense, your grace. Such things were very common in ancient times, and indeed still exist today in many cultures.” Philip drew a deep breath, then continued. “Based on the translation and my estimation of the age of the stone, which is called the Stone of Tears, I judged that the curse was most likely cast during the first or second century B. C. I’ve deduced that it was composed by a man who, just prior to his marriage, discovered that his betrothed had betrayed him with another. The curse was cast upon the man’s betrothed, and it called for three events to occur—two during the days just prior to the wedding, and the third two days after the wedding. Before the wedding, the curse decreed, the bride-to-be would suffer a non-life-threatening fall, then a severe headache. I believe these were meant to symbolize her ‘fall’ from grace and the ‘pain’ the man’s bride-to-be inflicted upon him. Then, two days after the wedding, the bride would... die.”

  Silence followed his words. Then the duke lifted his quizzing glass and peered at Philip. “So you believe, based on some scribblings on an old piece of rock, that if you were to marry my daughter, she would die two days after the wedding. Does that sum it up?”

  “Yes, actually, that sums it up perfectly. The curse specified that the bride of anyone who read the stone would suffer the curse—or his wife, if he were already married. And I have read the stone. At first I held out some hope that perhaps the curse had been broken over the centuries, but unfortunately recent events dash that hope. You will recall that two days ago, Lady Sarah suffered a non-life-threatening fall, and then a severe headache. Just as the curse portends.”

  “Coincidence—”

  “It is not, your grace. It is proof which cannot be ignored, especially when coupled with the missive I received several hours after my return to England.”

  “Meaning precisely what?”

  “During the first week of our voyage home, I pored over the stone, looking for any small clue I might have missed. When not in my cabin, I kept the stone hidden so as not to risk anyone else finding and translating it. However, several days into our journey, while studying the stone, I heard a loud booming noise. Concerned, I ran from my cabin.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I thought I’d hidden the stone, but apparently in my haste I failed to do so. When I returned, I discovered one of my colleagues, Edward Binsmore, in my cabin. He’d come to check on me due to the noise. When he entered my cabin, he saw the stone on my desk and, being as knowledgeable with the ancient languages as I am, he translated it. We both instantly realized the ramifications of him doing so, as Edward had a wife awaiting his arrival in England.”

  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 ex
changed 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.”

  Lord Hedington harrumphed. “As I’m not certain at this moment what to believe or make of this curse story, I have to agree with Ravensly that no word of it is to leave this room.” His scowl encompassed the entire group. “Agreed?”

  Everyone nodded and murmured their assent.

  “And I want to find my daughter.”

  “Both excellent plans, your grace,” Philip agreed. “However, I believe the more pressing matter at the moment is the hundreds of guests waiting in the church.” He dragged his hands down his face, his gaze alternating between Father, Lord Hedington, and Miss Chilton-Grizedale. “Since we’ve agreed for now not to mention the curse, we shall have to agree upon another excuse, for I’m afraid we can no longer delay a formal announcement that today’s wedding will not be taking place.”

  Grim-faced, Lord Hedington and Father headed toward the door. Just as Philip fell into step behind them, a low moan, followed by a thud, sounded behind him. He looked over his shoulder and froze.

  Miss Chilton-Grizedale lay sprawled in a heap on the floor.

  Meredith came awake slowly. Someone was massaging her hand in the most delightful manner. She forced her heavy eyelids open and suddenly found herself staring up into Lord Greybourne’s bespectacled brown eyes. The instant their gazes met, his expression filled with relief. She blinked. He did not look at all like a frog. He looked scholarly, but in a disheveled sort of way. Eminently masculine and strong. And he smelled delightful. Like sandalwood and freshly laundered linen. Yes, he looked most decidedly un-frog-like. And suddenly puzzled.

  “No, of course there are no frogs here,
Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

  Heavens, had she spoken out loud? Surely not. A buzzing commenced in her ears, and she stared into his face. He seemed like a decent man.... announce that today’s wedding will not be taking place... not taking place.

  And he’d just ruined her life. Dear God.

  “Glad you’ve finally come around,” he said. “Had thought you were made of sterner stuff, but clearly I was mistaken.”

  A frown pulled down her brows. “Come around? What do you mean?”

  “You swooned.”

  “I did no such thing. I am not prone to the vapors.”

  Good heavens, what was wrong with her tongue? It felt thick and foreign in her mouth.

  He smiled. A crooked half smile that creased a dimple in his cheek. “Well, for one not prone to the vapors, you sunk like a papyrus brick tossed in the Nile. Do you feel well enough to sit up?”

  Sit up? She cast her gaze about and realized with no small amount of chagrin that she was lying on her back on a sofa. And that Lord Greybourne sat perched upon the edge of the sofa, his hip pressed against hers, her one hand clasped between his wide palms, which continued to gently caress her skin. Heat radiated up her arm, spreading warmth through her entire body—warmth that had nothing to do with the consternation suffusing her. He was entirely too close, and she was entirely too... prone.

  Good heavens, she had swooned! The reason for her vapors came rushing back in a wave. Lady Sarah... no bride... no wedding... cursed groom—who was indeed rough around the edges, in ways she’d never imagined.

  Snatching her hand from his, she lifted her head, but the movement served no purpose other than to accentuate the odd floating sensation behind her eyes. A low moan passed her lips.

  “Take some deep breaths,” Lord Greybourne said, and demonstrated by drawing in a mighty breath that puffed out his chest, then slowly exhaling. His warm breath tickled the curls surrounding her face.

  “Do you think I don’t know how to breathe?” She hadn’t meant to sound quite so testy, but this disastrous debacle coupled with his closeness to her person had clearly tossed her off kilter.