Read Jacquie D'Alessandro Online
Authors: Who Will Take This Man
Jacquie D'Alessandro (36 page)
“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 shoul
ders. “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.’”
Looking at his
reflection in the cheval glass, Philip tugged his dark blue cutaway jacket into place, proudly noting that not one wrinkle marred his wedding attire. Had only four days passed since he and Meredith had broken the curse? Yes, but waiting even that long to make her his wife had felt like an eternity. Thank God he’d procured a special license to end his suffering.
A knock sounded on his bedchamber door, and he called, “Come in.” Expecting Bakari, he hoped with the news that Meredith had arrived for the ceremony which was scheduled to begin in twenty minutes, he was surprised to see his father enter the room. As his father approached him, Philip was pleased to note his healthy coloring.
“Bakari was about to come to inform you that your bride has arrived, but I offered to bring the message, as I need to talk to you.”
Anticipation filled Philip.
Your bride has arrived
. Which meant that in less than an hour’s time she would be his wife. The future stretched before them like a sparkling, jewel-encrusted sea.
“I’m glad you’re here, Father, as I would like to talk to you as well.” With his marriage only moments away, he was hopeful they could make their peace with each other and enjoy whatever remaining time they had left before
Father’s health failed. He indicated the wing chairs flanking the fireplace. “Shall we sit?”
“I prefer to stand.”
“All right. I’m glad you’re feeling up to it. Indeed, you’re looking very well. Except for the sling supporting your arm, you’re the picture of health.”
A flush crept up Father’s neck. “Er, yes. And that is precisely what I’m here to discuss.” He cleared his throat. “I am, in fact, exactly that.”
“Exactly what?”
“The picture of health.”
“How do you know this?”
“Doctor Gibbens told me.”
It took several seconds for the meaning of the words to sink in. Then, with an incredulous smile, Philip erased the distance between them and clasped his father on the shoulder. “This is joyous, miraculous news, Father! To what does Doctor Gibbens credit your recovery?”
“There has been no recovery, Philip. I was never ill.”
Philip went still, then his hand slowly slid from his father’s shoulder, as a jumble of emotions assaulted him. Amazement. Anger. Disappointment. They stood facing each other, as tension thickened the air between them.
“You lied because you thought I would not keep my word to you.” He was unable to disguise the bitterness in his voice.
“I lied because I wanted you to keep your word to me while I was still alive,” Father countered. “I wanted you home, and after a decade abroad it was time for you to return. I’d wanted you home three years ago, but in spite of having arranged a marriage for you, you refused to obliged me.”
“So this time you claimed to be dying.”
“Yes.”
Philip’s jaw tightened at the lack of remorse in his father’s eyes and the defiant angle of his chin. “Surely you
realize how despicable your actions were, Father. Not only toward me, but toward Catherine as well. Underneath her brave front, she’s been extremely distraught over your impending death.”
“I made my apologies to Catherine earlier this morning. Gave me quite the dressing-down, but we’ve made our peace. She neither likes nor condones what I did, but she understands why I did it. I did not believe you would come home otherwise. Indeed, I wasn’t certain that even news of my impending death would drag you back to England.”
“Your faith in me never fails to astound, Father. Tell me, how did you achieve your sickly look?”
“I severely cut back on my eating.”
“And your pasty complexion?”
“A dusting of flour.” Before Philip could say anything further, Father continued, “You have every right to be angry, but I hope you will understand that while my actions were dishonorable, my intentions were not. Although my health thankfully remains good, that of many of my peers does not. I wanted us to have the chance to repair our relationship before it was too late, and you were not showing any signs of returning.” Father lifted his brows. “If I’d not lied, would you have come home?”
Philip’s hands clenched. “Most likely no,” he admitted.
“I sensed as much. I hope you’ll forgive me for resorting to trickery, but I felt I had no choice. I’m sorry I lied to you. However, I am not sorry you are home. I missed you, Philip. We once had a good relationship….”
Memories of days spent walking the grounds at Ravensly Manor, afternoons spent reading together in the library, evenings spent bent over the chessboard, swept through Philip, leaving sadness and regret in their wake. “Yes.” Philip pushed the word past his tight throat. “Before I failed to keep my word. Before I failed Mother. And you.”
A muscle jerked in his father’s jaw. “I’ve waited years
to say this, Philip, and now that the moment is upon me, the words are still difficult….” He exhaled a long breath. “I did us both a great disservice that day when your mother was caught in the rain, then fell so ill. Yes, I was upset and distraught, but not at you. At the fates that were robbing me of her. She’d been so fragile for so long, and we’d known for months the end was near. That day, I said things to you in anger. Hurtful things impinging your honor that I did not mean. But things which, once said, erected an ever-growing wall between us I did not know how to scale…a wall I hope we can, as adults, somehow climb over. You’re a fine man, son. I should have apologized to you years ago. As I did not, I can only pray that it is not too late. I’m sorry.”
His father extended his hand. Philip stared at the gesture of sorrow, friendship, and respect, and swallowed to dislodge the lump in his throat. Feeling as if a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders, he reached out and clasped his father’s hand in a firm grip. Philip wasn’t certain who made the first move, but seconds later they were embracing in a back-thumping hug. When they stepped apart, both pulled linen handkerchiefs from their pockets. Dabbing at his eyes, Father said, “Blast it, Philip, this place is bloody dusty. You simply must hire more servants. Especially now that you’re taking a wife.” He slipped his handkerchief back into his pocket. “You said there was something you wished to discuss with me?”
“Yes. Actually, I wished to thank you. It was your efforts to secure me a bride that set into motion the series of events that led me to this moment: anticipating taking Meredith as my bride.”
Father’s brows rose. “I see. Does that mean you forgive me for deceiving you in order to get you home?”
“I suppose it must, for if you hadn’t, I would not have returned. And if I hadn’t returned, I would not have met
Meredith. So indeed, it would appear that I am grateful for your deceit.”
“About Miss Chilton-Grizedale, Philip…although she is not of the peerage, I quite like her. And Catherine assures me she will lend her support to your wife and that she has the makings of a fine viscountess.”
“She does, Father. On my word of honor, she does.”
“Well, that is good enough for me.”
Standing next to Andrew, Philip watched Meredith enter the drawing room, and his breath hitched. She wore a pale blue muslin gown, exquisite in its simplicity, the un-adorned column highlighting her extraordinary eyes and vibrant coloring. Her midnight hair was gathered into a classic Greek knot, and strands of lustrous pearls, his wedding gift to her, were wound through the shiny tresses. Her gaze locked onto his, and a smile filled with pure love and happiness trembled on her lips.
She walked slowly toward him, her gloved fingers resting lightly on Albert’s sleeve. Albert, who beamed with pride at his “Miss Merrie,” and who would be marrying Charlotte Carlyle early next month.
Albert delivered Meredith to Philip’s side with a solemn nod, to which Philip responded with an equally grave bow of the head. Then he looked down at the woman who owned his heart. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.
“Thank you. So do you,” she whispered back. “Your father told me about your conversation.”
“Quite the trickster, is he not?”
The vicar cleared his throat and frowned at them.
“Yes,” Meredith whispered with a smile, blithely ignoring the vicar. “I thanked him profusely.”
He smiled in return. “As did I.”
“I think the vicar is growing impatient with you two,”
Andrew whispered into the fray. “His face resembles a thundercloud.” He nodded toward Meredith. “You look lovely, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”
She beamed at him. “Thank you, Mr. Stanton, as do you. So lovely, in fact, I’m certain that it won’t be long before
you
are standing before the vicar. Indeed, I intend to see to it.”
Andrew shot Philip a pointed look, to which Philip shrugged. “She
is
the Matchmaker of Mayfair, you know.” He returned his attention to Meredith, whose beautiful eyes glowed up at him.
“You look happy,” he whispered.
A slow, beautiful smile lit her face. “Happy? I prefer to call it unequivocal, indubitable, flagrant, euphoric joy.”
He laughed, earning him a stern glare from the vicar. “Yes, I’m certain you do. And this time, my darling Meredith, I completely agree with you.”