“Yes, it could have been much worse. As much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Philip, we need to ask ourselves two questions: What if the thing he spoke of is the missing piece of the Stone of Tears? And what if he found it?”
With Edward’s disturbing questions still buzzing through his mind, Philip instructed Bakari to arrange for transportation for Edward.
“I’ll report the evening’s events to the magistrate before returning home,” Edward promised.
“I still think I should go with you-” Philip began.
“No. There is nothing to be gained by you leaving your guests. I’ll take care of it and report back to you in the morning.”
Philip reluctantly agreed. “All right. I’ll plan to arrive at the warehouse directly after breakfast.” He rested his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “We’ll find out who did this.”
Edward nodded, then departed. The instant the door closed behind him, Philip turned to Bakari. “How serious are his injuries?”
“Most troubling is lump on head and glass embedded deep in back of hand. He’ll hurt, but heal.”
Philip’s relief did nothing to assuage his concern. “There may be… trouble. I want you to take extra precautions.”
Bakari merely nodded. Philip’s request was one he’d heard numerous times during their adventures together. Bakari was well acquainted with trouble, and Philip had every confidence in the man’s ability to circumvent it.
Casting a meaningful glance toward the drawing room, Bakari harrumphed, and Philip nodded. Time to return to his guests. After taking a deep breath to compose himself, he returned to the drawing room. He’d barely set foot in the room when Meredith appeared beside him.
“There you are! Wherever have you been? The waltz is about to begin, and…” She frowned. “Is something amiss?”
His gaze settled on her concerned blue eyes, and his insides squeezed tight. No harm would come to her. Or to anyone else. He would see to it. “Just a small matter that required my immediate attention.”
She studied his face, and he forced his concerns aside-for now-and willed his expression to go blank. Still, some of his turmoil must have shown, for she asked, “Not Mr. Stanton, I hope? Lady Bickley reported he’s feeling under the weather-”
“No, Andrew is safely ensconced in his bedchamber with one of Bakari’s restorative toddies, which will render him cured by morning, I’m certain.” He glanced around the room, noting the speculative gazes resting upon him. “Was I missed?”
“Yes. Everyone’s been asking for you.”
He turned and looked directly at her. “I meant by you.”
Color rushed into her cheeks, charming him, making his fingers itch to reach out and brush over that beguiling blush. “Well, of course. I didn’t know where you’d hidden yourself. Lady Bickley and I were about to form a search party. There’s a roomful of women waiting to receive your invitation to waltz.”
“Excellent. May I have the honor of this dance?”
“Certainly not. I am not here to dance. I am here to-”
“Make certain all these young women believe I’m some sort of fascinating explorer, and to drop hints in gossipmongers’ ears that reports of my inability to… perform are grossly false.”
She cocked a brow. “You make it sound as if that is a bad thing.”
“Heavens, no. What man wouldn’t want a bevy of beauties to think him fascinating?”
“Exactly.”
“And no man wants to be drought of as unable to… perform.”
“Precisely.”
“Between those two recommendations and the fact that I’ve all my hair and teem, not to mention my lack of a paunch, I’m certain I’ve already made great strides with the good ladies in my drawing room.”
“Indeed.”
“Therefore, I insist you dance with me.” Before she could refuse, he leaned a bit closer and confided, “You would be doing me a great service. I’m afraid I’m not a proficient waltzer. If I were able to work out my deficiencies with you, rather than trodding upon the toes of any potential future brides and thus alienating them…” He raised his brows in a meaningful fashion.
She pursed her lips. “Perhaps you are right-”
“Of course I am. Come. The music is starting.” Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he led her to the dance floor.
“It’s a very simple dance,” she whispered. “All you need to do is count. One-two-three. One-two-three. And alternate your feet.”
The quartet struck up a tune. Philip held her one hand raised at the exact proper height, settled his other hand in the precisely proper position on her back, then swept her around the floor. She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes vividly blue, a delicate rose staining her pale skin. Her sweet, delicious scent wafted up to him, and he drew a deep breath to capture the elusive fragrance.
Pie. This evening she smelled like blackberry pie. His favorite dessert. Her turquoise gown accentuated her extraordinary eyes, and while the garment was undeniably modest, it still offered a teasing glimpse of cleavage. His gaze settled on her full, moist lips, and he swallowed a groan.
Bloody hell, so much for keeping things in their proper perspective and his suddenly nonexistent ironclad control. Dancing with her definitely fell into the category of “very poor idea.” Yes, he’d wanted to hold her in his arms, but he had not considered what sweet torture it would be. It required all his concentration to hold her at the proper distance and not yank her against him and bury his face against her tempting skin. To taste her lips. Her lips… God. He gritted his teeth, and counted furiously to himself, one-two-three. One-two-three.
After their third trip around the floor, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I believe you told me a Banbury tale, my lord. You’re a very fine waltzer.”
He lost count, faltered, then trod upon her toes. She gasped.
“Dreadfully sorry, my dear. You were saying?”
She glared at him. “Lord Greybourne. That little display was very much like the sort of tricks young boys play, a topic I am well versed in. If you think to fool me with such carryings-on, you are destined for disappointment.”
“I would never step on your toes on purpose, Meredith.” Her eyes widened slightly at his use of her Christian name. “However, I must confess I did recently learn the basics of the waltz. ”
“How recently?”
“This afternoon. I commandeered Catherine and forced her to teach me so I wouldn’t disgrace myself this evening.”
“She made no mention of this to me.”
“I asked her not to. I wanted to surprise you.”
“I… see. Well, she did an admirable job. You’ve quite got the hang of it. So well, in fact, that you need not waste any more time dancing with me. Lady Penelope is standing by the punch bowl. I suggest you partner her first.” She steered him toward the punch bowl with a purposeful gleam in her eye, and he, just as purposefully, swung her in the opposite direction.
“I believe you are leading, Meredith. That is the gentleman’s prerogative, if I’m not mistaken.”
“I’m trying to get us to the punch bowl,” she said in a hissing whisper.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Tongues will wag if you don’t stop dancing with me.”
“Tongues are already wagging about me, so I cannot see that it matters. Indeed, further speculation would no doubt only add to my ever-growing mystique.”
“You are impossible! A quick turn around the floor is one thing, and I appreciate it, as it lends to my credibility that you clearly still have confidence in me and my matchmaking abilities. However, the reality of the situation is that you are a viscount, and I am the hired help, and this dance is quickly approaching the time past what is proper.”
Annoyance skittered through him. “You are my
“If you insist upon looking at it like that, fine. Then you will recall that you also have more than two dozen other
