Jacquie D'Alessandro (34 page)

A tiny smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Waiting to kiss me until your friends rounded the corner…how utterly respectable of you. Although I must point out that kissing me outdoors is highly scandalous.”

“Over the course of the next half dozen decades, I fully intend to do more than kiss you outdoors. I’m going to make love to you beneath the stars in a moonlit English garden. In the warmth of the Adriatic Sea. And countless places in between. Show you, and tell you, every day, how very much I love you.”

She blinked rapidly to dispel the sheen of moisture he detected in her eyes. “I shall greatly look forward to that.”

Allowing himself only one more quick taste of her, he
clasped her hand, then rounded the corner, where the Greybourne carriage stood at the opposite end of the building. Waving off the footman, he opened the door himself, then handed Meredith in, helping her get settled on the seat opposite Andrew and Bakari.

“I’ll be along shortly,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“Are you not riding as far as the warehouse?” she asked.

“No. It’s not very far, and the walk will clear my head.” He turned to Andrew and Bakari. “Be careful.” With that he closed the door, then signaled the driver to depart. He watched the carriage disappear around a corner, then, firmly gripping his walking stick, he turned toward the warehouse.

Since childhood, walking had always been a soothing, comforting balm, enabling him to gather and align his thoughts in a logical, methodical way. And God knows he’d never needed that more than right now. Moving through the narrow streets, he culled through the myriad thoughts buzzing through his mind and focused on one at a time.

There was no doubt in his mind that the destruction of the
Sea Raven
was deliberate. Whoever had set the ship ablaze not only meant him irreparable harm, but the sheer audacity of the act proved that his enemy was growing increasingly desperate.

Who was doing this? Who was so intent upon seeing him suffer? And why? Unfortunately, Andrew’s inquiries had not resulted in an answer.

Rounding the final corner, he arrived at the warehouse. He walked along the rows of stacked crates, heading directly toward the office. He opened the desk drawer where his ledgers were stored, and froze. Lying on top of the ledger was a single, unfolded sheet of foolscap.

I have the stone you seek. You will suffer.

Philip stared at
the note, which was written in the same hand as the others, and fury and hope collided in him. Fury that this bastard was toying with him like this, but hope…God, so much hope that he was telling the truth.
I have the stone you seek.
That could only refer to the missing piece of the Stone of Tears. It existed. He’d wager his last farthing that it had been in the alabaster box stolen the night of the break-in—and this deranged bastard had taken it, which proved that the curse was indeed at the crux of all the attacks.
You won’t have the stone for long
, he silently vowed.
I’m going to find you
and
my stone. And then make you the sorriest bastard in England
.

The person responsible for this was no stranger. His were the only crates tampered with. It had to be someone who knew him. Knew where his belongings were stored. Knew the value of that piece of stone. Knew who his family and friends were…who was important to him. Of course, that could be anyone who’d sailed home with him. Everyone onboard the
Dream Keeper
knew Andrew, Edward, and Bakari were like brothers to him. Had heard him speak of his father and Catherine, and the fact that the crates in the ship’s hold were bound for the museum and the warehouse.

The door creaked on its hinges. “Hallo,” an adolescent
male voice called out. “Is there a bloke named Greybourne about?”

“I’m Greybourne,” Philip called, hurrying toward the door. A boy about twelve years of age, garbed in dirty, torn clothing, stood in the open doorway.

“I’ve a note for ye.” His eyes narrowed. “But it’ll cost ye. Bloke what told me to deliver it said ye’d give me a ha’pence.”

Philip withdrew a coin from his pocket and flipped it in the air. The boy caught it neatly, his eyes widening at the tuppence resting in his palm. He handed over the note, then dashed away, no doubt worried that Philip would try to wrest the coin back from him. Breaking the wax seal, Philip skimmed the few lines.

Philip stared absently at the note. He did not agree that the fire was caused by a careless crew member. Nor did he believe anyone aboard the
Sea Raven
was responsible. Whoever set the blaze was the same person responsible for everything else—and that person had not just arrived today on the
Sea Raven.

Folding the note and slipping it into his pocket, he continued his pacing, his mind churning out possibilities, and tossing them away just as quickly. To the best of his knowledge, he’d made no enemies onboard the ship during his sail home. He couldn’t deny he’d made a number of enemies during his travels. Had one of them followed him to England?

An image of that carriage barreling toward Meredith
flashed in his mind, and his footsteps slowed. This person clearly knew that Meredith was important to him—a fact which was a very recent development. And not known by many people. In fact, the only people who knew were those closest to him—

He halted, his mind racing as an awful possibility occurred to him. No, it couldn’t be…couldn’t possibly. But the more he reflected upon the events of the past days, he realized it could be. The puzzle pieces clicked, one by one, into place in his mind, leaving the sickening truth staring him in the face. The attacks, the broken glass, the odd absences, the conversations…yes, it all fit. He dragged his hands down his face. Damn it to hell and back, what a blind, trusting fool he’d been! His blood ran cold. And what danger had he unwittingly placed Meredith in by not realizing the truth sooner?

He quickly assessed his possible courses of actions, then with a decisive nod, he hurried back to the office, where he dashed off three brief notes and sealed them. Racing to the door, he ran outside. As he’d hoped, he spied the boy who had delivered Edward’s note earlier. The lad leaned negligently against the wooden exterior of the adjacent building, talking with another boy roughly the same age. No doubt the lad had hung about hoping Philip might have a note of his own to send—or he’d hoped that he and his friend might pick Philip’s pocket when he departed from the warehouse.

“You there,” Philip called to the boys. “I’ve a job for you.”

The boys exchanged glances, then sauntered over, all cunning bravado. “Wot kind o’job?” asked the boy familiar to him.

“I’ve some letters I want delivered.”

“Do ye, now?” the other, taller boy drawled. “And just wot’s in it fer us?”

He withdrew two coins from his waistcoat pocket. “A
bob for each of you now. When you return from your deliveries, I’ll give you an additional quid.”

“A quid fer each o’ us?” the taller boy asked, his eyes narrowed with clear suspicion.

“Yes.”

“And that’s all ye want fer such a grand sum? Just to deliver some letters?”

“That’s all I want. What are your names?”

The boys exchanged a quick glance, then moved closer. “I’m Will,” said the taller boy. He jerked his head toward the smaller lad. “This here’s Robbie.”

“Well, Robbie and Will, this is what I need for you to do.” Philip gave Will two letters and Robbie one, then carefully recited the direction to which he wanted each delivered. “Any questions?”

“Where’s our blunt?” Robbie asked.

Philip handed each of them a bob. They exchanged another look, then turned to leave. Philip mentally counted to five, then called out, “Boys?”

They turned in unison. “I want to stress that we’ve made a deal and I expect you to live up to your end. You have my word I’ll live up to mine. I therefore wouldn’t suggest you entertain any thoughts of running off with your bobs and destroying my letters. Because I shall find out if you do. And I can assure you it will be the last time you attempt such a double-cross.” He casually withdrew his pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and consulted the time, hiding his smile at the boys’ dumfounded, goggling expressions. “Do you understand?”

Both boys alternated their stunned gazes between Philip and the watch. “I…understand,” said Will.

“Me, too,” said Robbie, nodding so vigorously Philip feared the lad would rattle his brains.

“Then be off with you. There’s no time to waste.”

The boys ran off as if the hounds of hell pursued them, and Philip reentered the warehouse, satisfied that they
would both deliver his letters with the utmost speed and return for their extra money. He gave his watch a fond glance before tucking it back in his waistcoat pocket. Second time today someone had tried to relieve him of his watch. His thoughts turned to Meredith. Someone he’d never have believed capable of such treachery was trying to steal something much more valuable from him than his watch.

Profound hurt pierced him at the breach of trust, but he firmly pushed it aside.
If you wanted to hurt me, you should have come after
me
and left those I care about alone. But you won’t succeed in hurting anyone again. I know who you are, you lying bastard.
A grim smile curved his lips, and he ran his hands slowly down his walking stick.

All I have to do now is wait for you to come to me.

Meredith sat on the settee in Philip’s drawing room, sipping a cup of tea she prayed would relieve the nauseating pounding in her temples. Prince’s head lay propped on her thigh, and she sifted her fingers over the puppy’s soft, golden fur while she watched Mr. Stanton pace in front of the fireplace. Ever since he’d read the note that had been delivered a quarter hour earlier, he’d worn a fierce scowl and had moved ceaselessly back and forth across the hearth, clearly pondering a disturbing problem.

Curiosity tugged at her, but as he hadn’t said whom the note was from, she hesitated to question him. Surely he would have told her if the missive was from Philip.

Clearing her throat, she said, “I hope Philip isn’t overly fond of that carpet.”

He paused, a perplexed frown bunching his brows. “Which carpet?”

“The one you’re pacing into a threadbare state.”

Looking down at the thick Axminster beneath his
boots, he shot her a sheepish grimace. “Oh. That carpet.”

“You’re worried about Philip,” she said.

He looked as if he wanted to deny it, but then he jerked his head in a nod. “He’s been gone longer than I was expecting.”

“I’m guessing you want to go to the warehouse.”

“Yes.”

“But you haven’t because you promised Philip you’d look after me.”

A tired smile creased his face. “Philip did not mention you were clairvoyant, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

“It requires no special intuition to see how concerned you are. I think you should go.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t leave you.”

“So bring me with you. I’m worried about him, too.”

He studied her for several seconds, an unfathomable expression in his dark eyes. Then a slow smile turned up the corners of his lips. “Yes. I’ll bring you with me. That might work out perfectly.”

At the Denby Arms, Edward opened his door in answer to a discreet knock. A footman held out a silver salver bearing a wax-sealed note.

“This just arrived for you, sir.” The footman sniffed. “Delivered by a most raggedly dressed lad, you should know.”

Frowning, Edward took the letter, closed the door, then broke the seal.

Approaching the foyer in her father’s townhouse, Catherine noted Bakari intently reading from a piece of foolscap.

“I heard the knocker,” she said as she stepped into the foyer.

She clearly startled Bakari, who hastily shoved his let
ter into a fold of his loose-fitting trousers. Raising her brows, she said, “I was hoping Philip had arrived.”

“He has not.”

“Who came to the door?”

“Delivery boy.”

When he did not elaborate, Catherine prompted, “And what did he deliver?”

“Letter. For me.”

Obviously the contents of the letter had upset Bakari, as he was clearly agitated. Before she could question him, however, he murmured, “Please excuse me,” then he hurried down the corridor leading to the kitchens.

Seated in the carriage, the words of Greybourne’s note seared through his brain, infuriating him anew.
I’ve figured out how to break the curse without the missing piece of stone. Meet me at the warehouse.

Break the curse?
I’ll not let you, Greybourne. Oh, no. You have not yet begun to suffer. But you will, you bastard. You will. I’m on my way.

When Will and
Robbie returned to the warehouse, both reporting the successful delivery of his letters, Philip breathed a sigh of relief. He paid them their quids, along with an extra pound each for proving so trustworthy. Their eyes nearly popped from their sockets at such a windfall. Pity tugged at Philip’s heart for the two dirty-faced lads. He’d seen so many like them, both here in London and abroad. Children, who through no fault of their own were forced to live on the cruel streets, fighting each day for survival. Children who viewed the world with flat-eyed expressions that hid hunger, fear, hopelessness, and despair. It was exactly what Meredith had faced, and he marveled anew at the strength, character, and determination it had taken for her not only to successfully rise above such circumstances, but to help Albert and Charlotte do so as well.

Before sending the lads on their way, he said, “If you boys are interested in work—
honest
work—you come see me.” He rattled off his direction.

“That’s where I delivered one of yer letters,” said Will. His eyes widened. “Were that fancy place yer house?”

“Yes.” He fixed them both with a penetrating stare. “There’s work available, but know that I will not tolerate being lied to or stolen from. Not once. The decision is
yours.” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Now go buy yourselves something to eat.”

The boys studied him for several seconds, then dashed off. Philip watched them disappear from view, hoping that they would take him up on his offer. God knows he couldn’t hope to save all the children of London, but perhaps he could help Will and Robbie to help themselves. He’d given them the opportunity. The rest was up to them.

Alone again, Philip paced in front of the office, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths. His gaze swept the area, noting the careful placement of his walking stick, hidden by the shadows of the crate it leaned upon. Everything was ready for him to confront his enemy.

His enemy. A humorless laugh pushed past his tight throat.
And all this time I’d thought you were my friend….

His pacing halted when he heard the door open. A familiar voice called out, “Are you here, Philip?”

“Yes. By the office.”

Rapid footfalls sounded against the wood floor. When his guest rounded the corner and faced him, Philip stilled from the impact of staring into the dark eyes of this man he’d for so long believed to be his friend. Emotions pelted him from all sides, and he frowned. Damn it, he hadn’t anticipated that under his anger he’d experience this deep sense of loss. And sadness that it had come to this. Bludgeoning back his unwanted feelings, he said, “Glad you could come. There’s something we need to discuss.”

“So I gathered from your note. You’ve found a way to break the curse without the missing piece of stone? How extraordinary. You must tell me how.”

“And so I shall. But first, tell me, how are your injuries?”

Philip watched him roll his shoulders and flex his hand. “Improving.”

With a lightning-quick move, Philip reached out and
grabbed Edward’s upper arm and squeezed. A sharp cry of pain erupted from Edward’s lips and he jerked himself free of Philip’s grasp, backing up several paces.

“It’s a miracle that Catherine didn’t break your arm when she hit you with the fire iron last evening,” Philip said coldly. “She’s quite a strong woman.”

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds, then a frigid calm settled over Edward’s features, a frightening contrast to the hatred blazing in his eyes. “So you know.” He shrugged. “It was inevitable that you would discover the truth sooner or later. If you hadn’t done so on your own, I would have revealed myself to you…eventually. After I’d had the pleasure of watching you suffer the loss of those you love. But satisfy my curiosity. How did you figure it out?”

“Several things regarding your story about the night of the break-in here at the warehouse bothered me, but I couldn’t figure out what they were.” Philip’s gaze dropped to Edward’s wrapped hand. “The morning after the robbery, I noticed broken glass scattered all about the floor, which would only make sense if someone had broken the window to
gain
entry. Yet you claimed that you broke the glass to
escape
the warehouse, in which case the glass would have broken in the other direction and have been scattered
outside
. The guard didn’t let you in.
You
broke the glass to enter the warehouse, which resulted in your injury.”

His gaze dropped to Edward’s wrapped hand. “Both you and Bakari mentioned that you had glass embedded in the
back
of your hand. If you’d tripped, as you’d claimed, the glass would have embedded itself in your palms. But if you’d used your fist to shatter the glass to break into the warehouse, then it would have cut the back of your hand. My mistake was in blindly accepting your version of the events of that evening when they were all lies.”

Philip pinned him with a narrow gaze. “
You
killed the guard. You being beaten was a result of trying to escape him after he discovered your presence in here. You were the one who robbed me. And the minute it occurred to me to doubt your word, the pieces clicked into place.”

Edward inclined his head. “It is as you say. How very clever you are. Unfortunately for you, not clever enough to live to tell your tale to anyone else.”

In spite of his anger, Philip couldn’t squelch the pity tugging at him. He hated what Edward had done, yet losing his beloved wife had obviously driven him to this madness. “I want you to know, Edward, that I am deeply sorry for what happened to Mary. I never meant for anyone else to see the Stone of Tears. I kept it hidden in my cabin onboard the ship—”

“Did you think I didn’t know you were hiding something?” Edward said, the words spitting out like a cobra’s venom. “Something of great value that you did not want to share? I was determined to find it. During the storm I was finally given my opportunity to search your cabin. Very clever hiding spot, in your boot, but not clever enough.”

Philip’s heart skipped a beat. He
had
hidden the stone before he’d rushed from his cabin. In the confusion of the storm, the mast breaking, the details had become a blur. A layer of the guilt he carried peeled away, along with his pity. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “
You
brought this curse down upon yourself and Mary by your own greed. I wasn’t trying to keep some treasure from you—I was trying to keep anyone else from translating that infernal stone. I’d hidden it. You went looking for it. Invaded my cabin, my privacy, and look what it got you.”

“You dare to shift the blame for Mary’s death to me? You’re the one who found the stone. If it weren’t for you, she’d be alive.”

“As she would be if you hadn’t allowed your greed to get the better of you.”

“Stop! Damn you, the fault is yours. And you’re going to pay for it.” His gaze darted about the area. “Not that it matters, as you will be dead in less than a minute, but I assume that either Andrew or Bakari—perhaps both of them—are on their way here as well?”

“No. This is between you and me.”

“Pity. Their arrival here would have saved me the trouble of going to them, but it matters not. Their hours are numbered.” With a quick movement, he withdrew a pistol from his jacket and pointed it at the center of Philip’s chest. “Unfortunately, you will not still be alive to see them die, but
you
will die knowing that those you hold dear will soon follow you.”

Philip shook his head. “I won’t allow you to hurt anyone else.”

A sharp bark of laughter erupted from Edward. “Indeed? You cannot stop me. You
will not
stop me.”

Philip didn’t move so much as an eyelash as he studied his foe. He needed time, had to keep Edward talking. “I’m sorry about Mary, Edward—”

“
Sorry?
” he repeated in an awful voice. His eyes narrowed into hate-filled slits. “That doesn’t bring her back, now, does it? Nothing will. Not your pity, nor your useless financial gestures. Do you think that
money
can take her place? Assuage your responsibility? Could money replace the woman
you
love, Philip?”

The mere thought turned his stomach. “If there was a woman I loved…no.”

“Don’t lie to me. ’Tis obvious how you feel about Miss Chilton-Grizedale. Of course, I won’t have to actually kill her. You’ve taken care of that for me, by professing your love and asking her to marry you. Who knew that that would activate the curse?” A high-pitched laugh escaped him. “How bloody perfect!”

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Philip repeated in a frigid voice.

Edward’s expression turned to one of amusement as he looked pointedly between the pistol and Philip. “I’m afraid I must disagree.”

“Meredith isn’t going to die because I am going to break the curse.”

“So you indicated. How do you intend to do that without the missing piece of stone?”

Philip smiled. “You’re going to give me the missing piece of stone.”

“Again, you are mistaken.”

“You have the missing piece. You wrote as much in your last note. You stole it the night you robbed me. It was in the alabaster box.”

Madness glittered in Edward’s eyes. “It was. I read it. I alone hold the answer to breaking the curse, and I will never share it with you. Never.”

Knee-weakening relief smacked Philip. Edward’s words made it clear that there was indeed a way to break the curse. Now all he had to do was get that missing piece of stone. And survive this encounter. Moving slowly, he maneuvered himself so that his walking stick was directly behind him.

“Show me the stone, Edward.”

Edward laughed. “Oh, I intend to. What better way to make you suffer than to show you that which you shall never have? It’s rather like leaving a man tied in the desert, just out of reach of an oasis.” Slipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew a stone, half the size of his palm.

Philip’s heart pounded. Without a doubt, it was the missing piece of stone.

“You want to know what it says, don’t you?” Edward taunted. “Well, you’ll never know. You’re going to your grave, Greybourne—the same place you sent my Mary. And I want your last thoughts to be of losing everything you love.”

“Killing my family won’t bring back Mary.”

“But it makes you suffer. Of course, killing your family is not as important as killing Miss Chilton-Grizedale.” An unpleasant smile curved his lips. “An eye for an eye, Philip.”

“You’ll never get away with this. You’ll hang.”

“It matters not. My life is over. You and your curse saw to that.”

His gaze locked on Edward’s, Philip took a half step forward. “Give me the stone, Edward.”

“Don’t come any closer, Philip.”

Philip moved another half step. “Why not? You’re going to kill me anyway.” Another step. Then he looked over Edward’s shoulder, widened his eyes, and shook his head.

“What—?” The instant Edward swiveled around to see who or what was behind him, Philip reached for his walking stick.

Realizing he’d been duped, Edward whirled back around. Philip swung the walking stick, catching Edward across the chest. Edward’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in mad fury, but he quickly recovered, dodging Philip’s next swing. With an inhuman roar of rage, Edward rushed forward, smashing into Philip, sending him crashing against the stacked crates. The walking stick fell from his grasp.

“You bastard,” Edward heaved, trapping Philip against the wall with the full weight of his large body. Philip struggled to move, but ceased when he felt the pistol jammed directly under his ribs. One twitch of Edward’s finger would end his life. He’d heard that insanity drove men to great strength, and Edward was proving that correct. His forearm pressed against Philip’s throat, cutting off his air. Black dots began to swim in front of his face. Knowing it was now or never, he heaved himself forward, throwing Edward back several paces. He grabbed Edward’s wrists. One hand held the pistol, the other the stone. Eyes riveted on each other, they struggled fiercely.
Sweat coating his skin, muscles screaming against the strain, Philip tried to direct the pistol away from him.

“You think you’re going to win this?” Edward ground out, his face only inches from Philip’s. “Think again, you bastard. I’ll see to it that no matter what happens, you’ll not win.”

A dull thud, followed by the sound of Edward’s boot smashing down, turned Philip’s blood to ice.

“The stone is destroyed,” Edward whispered. “And so are you. I hope you rot in hell.”

The pistol fired.

The carriage had just halted outside the warehouse when the sound of a pistol shot rent the air. Heart pounding with fear and dread, Meredith grabbed Mr. Stanton’s arm. “Dear God. That came from inside the warehouse.”

“Stay here,” he said, opening the carriage door and jumping to the ground.

“I’ll do no such thing. Philip is in danger. I can help.”

He slipped a knife from his pocket. “Help? How?”

Jumping to the ground, she hefted her rock-laden reticule. “I’m armed.” She lifted her chin. “And determined. You’re not leaving me here.”

He raised his brows. “You any good with that thing?”

“Would you care for a demonstration?”

They stared at each other for several seconds, then he jerked his head in a nod. “You’ll do. Don’t make a sound, stay behind me, and for God’s sake, don’t get yourself killed.”

Clasping her hand, he led her silently forward. They’d only taken half a dozen steps when she halted and squeezed his hand. Heart pounding, she whispered, “There’s someone in the shadows.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Bakari stepped forward, a long, curved knife held in his fist.

“What are you doing here?” Andrew whispered.

“Same as you. Hope to save his life.”

Andrew nodded, then indicated with a jerk of his head that Bakari should bring up the rear. The warehouse door stood ajar, and they slipped in the opening. Moving silently forward, Meredith forced long, slow, deep breaths into her constricted lungs, fighting back her fright. If something had happened to Philip…