Jacquie D'Alessandro (28 page)

“Like
that
? Ye mean like a piteously green lad.” He all but spit out the words.

“No. I mean like a man kisses a woman he cares for deeply. A woman he…loves.”

Albert prayed for the floor to split open and swallow him. Never, in his entire life, had he been more mortified. Bloody hell, with his clumsy kiss, he’d given away the show.

“Is that how you kissed me, Albert?”

His shoulders slumped at her soft-spoken question. He wanted to deny it, to spare himself from being the further object of her pity, but how could he hope to convincingly lie about something so obvious? Besides, he wouldn’t have to see her pity for long. He’d be gone from here within a matter of hours. “Yes, Charlotte, that is how I kissed you.”

“Because you love me?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

He jerked his head in a nod. “Yes. Tonight my feelin’s…they got the better of me. And since I can’t promise that they never would again, I have to leave here. For both our sakes.”

“Oh…my. Albert, that kiss was the most wondrous I’ve ever received. I didn’t even know a kiss
could
be wondrous until tonight.”

Confusion filled him. “Wondrous? Are ye sayin’ you
liked
it?”

“Yes, Albert, that is what I’m saying. But you so surprised me, I did not have the presence of mind to react as I should have. I wouldn’t be so surprised if you were to try it again…now.”

He could only stare, certain he’d misheard her. “Are ye sayin’ you want me to kiss you?”

“More than anything.”

She couldn’t have struck him more dumb with a brick to his head. Half of him wanted to simply grab her and take advantage of this obvious leave-taking of her wits, but the other half demanded caution. And the assurance that his hearing had not suddenly become afflicted.

“Why would ye want me to kiss you?” he asked carefully, studying her, terrified by the seed of hope struggling to bloom in his heart.

Her eyes filled with such unmistakable tenderness, his breath cut off. “I want you to kiss me because I love you.”

Sweet God, he’d lost his mind. Daft, that’s what he was. Hearing things. Bedlam was the next stop for him.

Clearly he must have looked as dazed as he felt, because her eyes filled with concern. “Albert, did you hear me?”

“I’m not certain. Doesn’t seem possible that I heard what I think I heard. Could ye…say it again?”

A smile trembled on her lips. Then she cleared her throat and said in a slow, distinct, and quite loud voice, “I want you to kiss me because I love you.”

Sweet God, he
hadn’t
lost his mind! Reaching out, he framed her face between his unsteady hands. She stepped closer to him and lifted her face, sliding her arms around his waist.

“Charlotte…” He brushed his mouth softly across hers, almost afraid to touch her, fearful that he’d suddenly awake and discover this was nothing but a dream, a figment of his imagination. But there was nothing imaginary
about the way her lips parted beneath his, or the feel of her arms tightening around him.

Forcing himself to end their kiss before the increasingly urgent demands of his body overrode his judgment, he lifted his head. And looked at the most incredible, beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Charlotte. In his arms. Her lips moist and reddened—from his kiss. Her skin flushed with arousal—from his touch. Her eyes filled with tenderness and love—for him.

He blinked twice, still certain that she would disappear, but she remained in his embrace. God knows he didn’t want to say or do anything to disrupt this magical moment, but he had to ask. “Are ye certain, Charlotte? Certain ye want to take on a man like me?” He looked pointedly down at his leg, then raised his gaze to hers. “I’m damaged goods.”

“So am I. I can’t change my past, Albert.”

“Any more than I can change mine.” He touched her soft cheek, marveling that he could do so. “I’m only interested in yer present and yer future.”

“I’m five years older than you.”

“I don’t care.” Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I can’t believe ye’re right here, that I’m touchin’ you, that you love me. But by God, I’m not goin’ to let this slip away. Charlotte, will you marry me?”

Her eyes widened; then, to his alarm and dismay, a big tear dribbled down her cheek. “Bloody hell! I didn’t mean to make ye cry.” He brushed away the drop with his fingers, but another tear, then another, followed.

“I’m not crying,” she whispered.

“Well, then ye’ve sprung a leak, ’cause there’s water coming out of yer eyeballs.”

A noise that sounded like a sob and laugh combined rushed from her. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest. Feeling utterly helpless,
he patted her back, smoothed her hair, and lightly kissed her temple. “Charlotte, please, I can’t stand to see ye cry. Why are ye so upset?”

She raised her head at that. Framing his face between her palms, she said, “I’m not upset. I’m overcome. Stunned. It hadn’t occurred to me that you’d want to
marry
me.”

“What did ye think I’d want?” Yet the instant he asked the question, he read the answer in her eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of dishonorin’ ye, Charlotte.”

“I’m not the sort of woman a man marries.”

“The hell ye’re not. I want you to be my wife. I want Hope to be my daughter. I guess the only question is, do you want me to be yer husband and Hope’s pa?”

“If you want us—”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

She drew in a visibly shaky breath. “Then yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

It was as if the sun broke out from behind a balloon of dark clouds. Clasping her tightly against him, he kissed her long and deep, until he had to break away to keep his sanity. He rested his forehead against hers for half a minute, catching his breath. “There’s somethin’ ye should know. I’ve…I’ve never been with a woman.”

“I wish I could tell you that I’ve never been with a man. But I can honestly say that I’ve never
made love
with a man before.”

He lifted his head and smiled. “Is it true? Are ye really goin’ to be my wife?”

She smiled in return. “Yes. Are you truly going to be my husband?”

“Yes. And the sooner, the better. I, um, hope you won’t be wantin’ a long engagement.”

“Albert, it’s not necessary for us to wait until we’re married to—”

He silenced her with a kiss. “Yes. It is. Ye deserve all
the respect due a proper lady, and I’ll not besmirch yer honor by taking ye before we’re wed. I never thought I’d have ye, Charlotte. Now that ye’re mine, I can wait.”

The love and gratitude shining in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. “I cannot wait to tell Hope and Meredith our happy news,” she said. “Won’t she be surprised to learn that while she was attending a dinner party to find Lord Greybourne a perfect match, we found a perfect match of our own?”

“A mighty successful evenin’ as far as I’m concerned,” he said, returning her smile. “I only hope Miss Merrie’s was as successful.”

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 re
turn, 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. Start
ing 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.”