Jacquie D'Alessandro (23 page)

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Merrie, Lord Greybourne,” Albert broke in, making Meredith want to kiss him with gratitude for the interruption, “but I’ve just checked off the last item in the crate. Nothin’s missing.”

There was no mistaking Philip’s relief, a sentiment Meredith wholeheartedly shared. “Excellent news,” he said.

“Perhaps not,” came the earl’s grim voice. “I’ve just finished with our crate, Philip, and there’s an item unaccounted for.” He tapped his finger on the ledger. “According to your records, a ‘gypsum vessel’ should have been packed in this crate.”

Philip gently set down the marble statue he still held, then looked at the spot where his father pointed. An odd expression passed over his face, then his complexion visibly paled. He dragged his hands down his face. “Damn. I should have noticed…should have made the connection.”

“Noticed what?” Meredith asked, unable to keep the alarm from her voice.

“I recall seeing this entry when I examined the ledgers, but when I noted ‘vessel’ it didn’t seem of any special significance, as I read it to be ‘vessel’ as in ‘boat.’ Not surprising, as you’ll note that there are a predominance of nautical items in that particular crate. I assumed a boat carved from gypsum. But I should have considered that vessel might just as easily have meant ‘box’ of some sort.
And I certainly should have made the gypsum connection.”

“What do you mean?” the earl asked. “What is gypsum?”

“It’s a common mineral, been used for centuries to carve into vases, boxes, and such. It’s also called alabaster…which is what the box I found containing the Stone of Tears was carved from.” He exhaled a long breath. “It would seem that there was an alabaster box in this crate. And now it’s gone.”

Only nine crates remained
.

By six o’clock that evening, they’d completed searching through three more crates—without success. Discouraged, Philip called the work to a halt. His muscles ached, his damp shirt clung to him like an uncomfortable second skin he longed to shed, and hunger he couldn’t ignore much longer grumbled in his stomach. Indeed, the work effort would have ended hours earlier if Meredith hadn’t had the foresight to bring a basket filled with biscuits, scones, cheese, jam, and jars of cider.

He had no intention of quitting for the day, but some food and a change of clothing were in order. Besides, he couldn’t expect anything more from his father, Meredith, or Goddard today. They’d all worked the entire day without a single word of complaint. He’d made his father take several breaks, but the earl appeared to thrive with the work, and was reluctant to quit each time Philip insisted he rest.

In addition to eating and changing his clothes, Philip also wanted to catch up with Andrew, who either was still not feeling well, or had gone to the museum. There was much they needed to discuss.

His father, followed by Goddard, headed down the long walkway toward the exit. Before Meredith fell in be
hind them, Philip asked, “May I have a word with you, Meredith?”

Goddard halted, looking over his shoulder at Meredith with a questioning gaze.

“It’s all right, Albert,” she said with a tired smile. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

With a nod, Goddard continued down the walkway.

When he was certain he couldn’t be overheard, Philip walked toward her, halting when only two feet separated them. Streaks of dust marred her creamy cheeks and grayed her lustrous dark hair, to say nothing of the havoc her labors had wrought upon her brown gown. She looked tired, rumpled, and dirty. Yet even as guilt slapped him for causing her untidy state, he couldn’t deny that even tired, rumpled, and dirty, he found her more appealing than any perfectly turned-out female he’d ever seen. His fingers all but itched with the desire to grab hold of her and rumple her further.

“I want to thank you for your tireless help today—yours and Goddard’s—and for thinking to bring a hamper of food and drink. I’m afraid I tend to forget such mundane matters as hunger and thirst when I’m embroiled in something. Your forethought falls in the category of ‘sheer genius.’”

She favored him with a tentative smile. “Thank you, but the truth is it falls more into the category of ‘self-preservation.’ I deduced we’d be here for most of the afternoon, and further suspected that no one would think of food or drink until we were all faint from hunger. I knew if
I
were the first person to suggest we abandon our work to seek out sustenance, I would be branded a—”

“Hothouse flower?”

“Precisely. And clearly my plan worked beautifully, for rather than categorizing me as a ‘limp, weak, female,’ you believe I’m a genius.”

“Well, your offering was much appreciated, and absolutely delicious. One of the finest meals I’ve had in ages.”

“That’s only because you were so hungry. I’d wager that even if I’d served you sawdust patties you would have gobbled them up with nary a complaint.”

“Hmmm. You may be right. But be that as it may, you quite saved the day, and in return for your generosity in providing me with such a wonderful meal, I would like to return the favor. Will you dine with me tomorrow evening?”

Wariness filled her gaze. “Dine with you?”

“Yes.” His lips quirked upward. “I’m certain you don’t mean to look and sound so horrified. I promise you won’t be served sawdust patties.”

He could see that she meant to refuse him. Before she could do so, he added, “This would be a perfect opportunity for me to get better acquainted with some of the ladies from last night’s party.”

She blinked twice, then a look of unmistakable relief, which he found most discouraging, passed over her features, instantly followed by what could have been a flash of disappointment, which he found most
en
couraging. “Oh! You mean to invite other people to join us?”

“I shall write the invitations myself. I think eight is a nice number for a dinner party—you, me, and six other young ladies. I’ll look over last night’s guest list and make my choices. May I count on you to come?”

“Yes. I’d be delighted.”

“Excellent. I’ll send Bakari ’round in my carriage to pick you up. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

“That will be fine.” She looked at him for several seconds, then said quietly, “Philip…I’m glad that you’re taking steps to further your acquaintance with these young ladies. Any one of them will make you an admirable, respectable wife.”

“I’m counting on it, Meredith. We both want me to choose an admirable, respectable wife, and rest assured, I plan to see that we both get exactly what we want.”

When Philip arrived home, Bakari informed him that Andrew had spent the day at the museum and was still not home. Philip ordered a hot bath, and while he waited for the tub to be filled, he retired to his private study with Bakari and took the edge off his appetite with several slices of freshly baked bread and a wedge of cheese.

After bringing Bakari up to date on the day’s proceedings, he said, “I have a bad feeling, Bakari, this missing gypsum vessel might be the very thing we’re searching for. And you know how my bad feelings have a disturbing propensity for proving correct.”

Bakari shuddered. “The sandstorm in Thebes, the storm off Cyprus, the grave robbers in Cairo—don’t remind Bakari.”

“I find it extremely odd that it was the only thing missing, and you know I’m not one to put faith in coincidence. I didn’t dwell on my concern, as I did not want to alarm the others. And I refuse to give up hope. There are still nine crates at the warehouse, and the
Sea Raven
with her cargo of the remaining artifacts will, I hope, arrive in the next several days. Perhaps this gypsum vessel was indeed a boat.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Damn it all, I should have made the connection. I can only pray that this doesn’t prove to be the most costly error of my life.”

“Bakari pray, too,” the small man said in a grave tone Philip recognized all too well. It was Bakari’s “I’ll pray for all I’m worth, but it probably won’t do much good” voice. Bloody hell.

After finishing off his last bite of bread, Philip said, “There’s something else I need to discuss with you. I’d
like you to arrange a small, intimate dinner party for tomorrow evening. Mediterranean-style.”

Bakari’s black eyes glittered. “Intimate?”

“Yes.” Philip outlined what he wanted, knowing Bakari would commit his instructions to memory and carry them out to the letter. When he finished his instructions, he rose. “My bath must be close to ready by now. By the time I’m finished, Andrew should be home. The dinner hour draws near, and it isn’t like him to miss a meal.”

Sure enough, when, freshly bathed and clothed, Philip entered the dining room forty-five minutes later, Andrew was seated at the cherrywood table, enjoying a bowl of what appeared to be a hearty soup. Nodding at the hovering footman to bring him the same, Philip slid into the chair across from Andrew, whose clothing and hair bore evidence of dust and grime.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am.” His gaze flicked over Philip’s clean clothes and still damp hair. “I envy you your bath. I requested one, but I had to eat first. I think I quite horrified your staff by reporting to the dining room looking like something that’s been dragged across a dusty floor. Thank God Bakari is here to act as a buffer, else I think I’d have been tossed outside.”

After the footman set a steaming bowl in front of Philip, Philip dismissed him. He and Andrew ate in concentrated silence for several seconds before Philip spoke. “As you didn’t pounce the moment I walked in with the good news that you’d found the missing stone, I assume today’s search at the museum was unsuccessful?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Only three crates remain. Edward assisted me, at least as well as he could with his injured hand. He told me what happened last night. Nasty business. He’s lucky he lived to tell the tale. Said he thought some artifacts were broken during the scuffle.”

“Sadly, five were. However, it could have been much worse.”

Andrew shot him a questioning look. “Was anything stolen?”

Philip filled him in on the day’s events, reporting the guard’s death and the missing gypsum vessel. “Damn it Andrew, I should have made the connection.”

“I looked those ledgers over, as did Edward and Bakari. None of us picked up on it, Philip. Stop blaming yourself.”

Philip nodded absently. “Clearly the same person is responsible for the robbery and the threatening notes. I need to discover his identity before anyone else is hurt. Toward that end, I’m planning to hire a Bow Street Runner to investigate. I think the person responsible is most likely someone who sailed on board the
Dream Keeper
with us. Someone who is familiar with the artifacts and the curse.”

Andrew studied him for several seconds, then said, “Why not let me conduct the investigation? Edward can handle the remaining crates at the museum. I’m already acquainted with everyone from the
Dream Keeper,
and you know I’m capable of ferreting out information.”

“Yes, you proved that when you recovered the stolen Aphrodite statue in Athens, and you’re certainly capable of defending yourself should the need arise. You’re certain you want to do this?”

“Yes. I want this bastard stopped as much as you do. I’ll begin tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Relieved, and confident that Andrew would hunt down the truth, Philip said, “I also had an interesting conversation with Meredith’s friend and butler, Albert Goddard, today.” He briefly outlined the story Albert had related about how he’d come to live with Meredith.

“Goddard’s fortunate to have survived such a horrid
childhood,” Andrew said grimly. “Clearly there’s more to your Miss Chilton-Grizedale than meets the eye.”

“Yes, the lady is something of an enigma. And you know how I enjoy a puzzle.”

“Is that what you intend to do? Enjoy her?”

“Actually, I’ve decided to take your advice.”

“As well you should, since I am, ahem, rarely wrong. Er, which piece of wisdom, exactly, have you chosen to follow?”

He eyed Andrew over the rim of his wineglass. “I’m going to court her. Before I met Meredith, I was fully prepared to marry a woman I didn’t know to honor my agreement with my father. Now that I must choose someone else to be my wife, I’d prefer to marry someone I…like. Someone I desire.”

“A wise decision. I couldn’t imagine marrying someone I didn’t know. Of course, it would be undeniably better if you more than…liked Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

“I barely know her.”

“From where I stand, you know all you need to. But liking and desiring her are certainly a good start. Since the sweeping romantic gesture is not your forte, I’d be happy to offer a few suggestions.”

Philip narrowed his eyes. “Contrary to what you believe, I have made several such gestures before.”
Several?
his inner voice snickered.
Fine. None.
But he’d certainly thought about it, had meant to make such a gesture. He’d just never met a woman who’d inspired him to do so. Until now. “And toward that end, I’ve invited Meredith to join me here for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“A dinner party? I’d love to come.”

“Pity. You’re not invited.”

“Ah. So it is
that
sort of party. Not to worry, I’ll toddle off and make myself scarce. Believe I’ll go back to Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Emporium. Quite enjoyed it last evening, and I’d like another crack at it.” A lazy smile
lifted one corner of Andrew’s mouth. “Great way to work out the frustrations—pounding the piss out of someone in the ring. You know how I love a good fight.”

“Last evening?” Philip’s gaze dipped to Andrew’s hand, and for the first time noticed the swollen, bruised knuckles. “I thought you’d taken to your bed.”

“I had. I fell asleep after drinking Bakari’s concoction, and awoke feeling much improved. Decided to head out and see something of the city. I recalled you mentioning Gentleman Jackson’s during one conversation or another, and I decided to pay the establishment a visit.”

“My father thought he saw you out and about, but I assured him it wasn’t you. My relief knows no bounds that there aren’t two of you running amok in London.” A frown pulled his brows. “I wonder why Bakari didn’t mention you’d gone out.”

“I slipped down the servants’ stairs so as not to disturb the party.”

“You were welcome to join us.”

“Very kind of you, I’m sure; however, I was afraid if I attended, all the ladies who were there for your perusal might be swept away by my fascinating American charm.” He coughed modestly into his hand. “Didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Believe me, you were welcome to the lot of them. Save one.”

“Hmm, yes. Miss Chilton-Grizedale. You may have fancied a young lady before, but I’m sure you realize there’s a difference this time.”

Philip nodded slowly. “Yes. This time it matters.”

“Courting her will prove a challenge, especially since all her energies are focused on finding you a bride.”

A slow smile pulled at Philip’s lips, and he lifted his wineglass in salute. “Ah, but she needn’t bother, as I’ve already chosen one. Besides, you know how I love a challenge.” He glanced at the mantel clock. “And speaking of
challenges, are you up for some crate-searching at the warehouse tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. And while we’re in the East End, on our way home, let’s stop in a pub.”

“Sounds intriguing. Are we looking for something—besides trouble?”

“Information.”

“About…?”

“A chimney sweep named Taggert.”

The following morning, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep, Meredith sat in the gig, staring straight ahead while Albert handled the reins. He appeared lost in thought, for which she was grateful, as her own preoccupation rendered her silent.

Philip. Damnation, she had to stop thinking about him. But how? Last night he’d occupied every corner of her mind—which was bad enough, but it was the
way
he’d occupied her mind that was so unsettling.