Who Will Take This Man?

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.

Twenty-one

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?”