Who Will Take This Man?

Philip dropped all pretense of studying the chessboard. Unwanted, unwelcome jealousy pumped through him, along with a healthy dose of anger. “We’ve returned to civilization, Andrew. That is hardly a proper way to describe a lady.”

The look Andrew shot him was one of pure innocence. “So there «some decorum buried in there. I meant no disrespect, of course. I was merely obliging your request to list her attributes-ones that I believe any man with eyes would instantly note, by the way. Except you, it seems. Interesting. Especially as you are normally most observant.”

Oh, he’d observed. Observed everything about her, including her striking eyes, her complexion, her lovely hair, and the hints of her feminine form beneath her bronze-hued gown. It just irked that Andrew had also noted them.

“Too bad she isn’t one of those willowy blondes you prefer,” Andrew mused, “Although I imagine it wouldn’t matter. From everything you’ve told me, I gather you’re expected to marry some ‘Lady’ something-or-other as opposed to a regular ‘Miss. ’”

“Yes, that is what is expected,” Philip said. The words felt like desert sand upon his tongue.

“Yet there have been many occasions when I’ve known you to do the exact opposite of what was expected, Philip.”

Philip studied his friend for several seconds before replying. “That was in Egypt. Turkey. Greece. This is England. I returned here to do what is expected of me.”

“To marry someone you barely know. You’re abandoning the life you love abroad, your explorations, giving up your freedom.”

This was a familiar argument between himself and Andrew. “I’m honoring an agreement that granted me my freedom for the past ten years. And between the British Museum and the private museum you and I plan to co-found, I shall have more than enough to keep me busy.”

“I suppose. But you’ve given up a great deal. It certainly seems that you should have the woman you want. I myself would never marry for less than love.”

Philip couldn’t contain his bark of surprised laughter. “I find it difficult to envision you in the role of lovesick suitor, Andrew. I’ve seen you in the company of numerous women over the years, yet none seemed to have captured your heart.”

“Perhaps because my heart was already otherwise engaged.”

Philip stared, nonplussed. Although it was sometimes difficult to determine if Andrew was speaking in jest, those quietly spoken words held no trace of amusement. He’d known Andrew for five years, had lived in close quarters with him all that time, shared life-and-death experiences with him, yet this was the first mention of this unrequited love.

“Is your heart otherwise engaged?”

A fleeting expression of what looked like pain flashed in Andrew’s eyes. Then a rueful, sheepish grin pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Caught.”

Unable to hide his surprise, Philip asked, “Is she American?”

“No. I met her years ago. During my travels.”

“And you fell in love with her?”

“Yes. My fate was sealed the moment I laid eyes upon her.”

“Well, then why didn’t you marry her?”

“Unfortunately the lady was already married.”

“I see.” Silence settled over them while Philip digested this new information about his friend. “Do you love her still?” he finally asked.

Once again their eyes met, and Philip was struck by the bleak expression in Andrew’s dark eyes. “I will always love her.”

“Did she… love you in return?”

“No.” The word came out as a harsh whisper. “She was true to her husband, to her marriage vows. She did not know of my feelings. She did nothing to encourage them. I simply lost my heart to her.”

Philip tried to suppress his pity and amazement. He’d never seen Andrew so serious, so undone. So sad. Reaching out, he squeezed Andrew’s shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Andrew. I had no idea.”

“I know. And I’m not certain why I told you, except…” He shook his head, then pressed his lips together, as if having a difficult time forming the words, uncharacteristic of the normally unreserved Andrew. “I know you’re a man of integrity, Philip. A man of your word. A man who must choose a wife. I suppose I’m just hoping that you will choose… carefully. And follow your heart. I was not able to do so, and it is a pain I would not wish upon anyone, most especially my closest friend. Perhaps your betrothed marrying another was fate. A sign that you were meant for another.”

Before Philip could fashion a reply, Andrew’s expression changed, replacing his air of melancholy with his normal lopsided grin. He inclined his head toward the chessboard and moved his queen. “Checkmate.”

Philip shook Andrew’s hand, then turned toward Catherine and Miss Chilton-Grizedale who had arisen and were crossing the room. “Have you finished with the guest list?”

“Yes. The invitations will be sent out tomorrow. And we can hope that by the evening after next, you will have found someone who appeals to you. Miss Chilton-Grizedale and I have made up a list of candidates that is certain to please you.”

A knot settled in his stomach. “Excellent. Now we can only hope that I am able to break the curse. For if not, it doesn’t matter how perfect a woman you find for me, I will not be able to marry her.”

Silence fell over the group like a shroud of fog. Finally Miss Chilton-Grizedale said, in her practical, brisk way, “I believe our best course is to remain hopeful. Nothing breeds bad luck more than a pessimistic outlook.” Her gaze wandered to the mantel clock. “Good heavens, I had no idea it was so late. I really must be going.”

“I must go as well,” Catherine said.

They all walked to the foyer, where Bakari called for both Philip’s and Catherine’s carriages.

After tying her bonnet beneath her chin, Catherine hugged Philip. “Thank you for a delightful evening. I’ve missed sharing meals with you.”

“Thank you for your help. If there is anything I can do-”

“You can continue searching for the missing piece of stone so that the wedding can take place.” Turning toward Andrew, she inclined her head. “A pleasure, Mr. Stanton.”

Andrew bowed over her gloved hand. “The pleasure was mine, Lady Bickley.”

Philip walked Catherine down the walkway to the waiting carriage. After seeing her safely inside, he returned to the foyer, where Miss Chilton-Grizedale and Andrew were sharing a laugh over something. An uncomfortable wave of jealousy washed through him. He forced a smile, then reached for his walking stick.

Andrew noted his walking stick and asked, “Going somewhere, Philip?”

“I am seeing Miss Chilton-Grizedale home.”

Her cheeks flooded with color. “That is not at all necessary, my lord. I would not wish to indispose you.”

“I insist. Whereas my sister lives just down the road and has two footmen in addition to her coachman to protect her, you live quite a distance from here, and there are all manner of criminals who lurk about at night.” He raised his brows. “You’ve harped on my lack of decorum, yet when I make a gentlemanly gesture, you argue.”

She appeared to bristle. “Harp? I prefer to call it reminding.”

“I’m certain you do.”

“There’s no point in arguing with him, Miss Chilton-Grizedale,” Andrew broke in. “Philip can be quite stubborn. Indeed, I suggest that you add ‘capable of putting up with pigheadedness’ on your list of qualities in his future wife.”

She laughed. Humph. He didn’t think Andrew’s comment was particularly humorous. Then an enchanting smile lit Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s face-a smile directed at Andrew-a fact which further tensed Philip’s muscles.

“I’ll add it as soon as I return home.” She held out her hand to Andrew. “Good evening, Mr. Stanton.”

Andrew raised her hand and bestowed a kiss upon Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s gloved fingers-a kiss that, even to Philip’s dim memory of all things decorous, lasted considerably longer than was strictly proper. “A delight, Miss Chilton-Grizedale. I’ve not been fortunate enough to spend the evening in such lovely company for a long time. I hope we meet again soon.” Turning toward Philip, he said, “I’ll see you in the morning.” With that he climbed the