The duke’s face turned crimson. “I don’t believe in this tomfoolery you are spouting.”

“That is certainly your choice, but that does not make these curses any less real. My friend Edward Binsmore’s wife is dead as a result of this one.”

The duke waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, but a flicker of uncertainty flashed in his eyes. “Sarah informed me about her fall at the dressmaker’s shop. Clearly the chit must have struck her head during the incident if she even listened to this cock-and-bull tale. I cannot believe you passed along such a nonsensical tale.”

Philip looked steadily at Lord Hedington, hoping the man would see the depth of his sincerity. “I could not be responsible for your daughter’s death. And I very much believe that if we had married she would have died. You may not believe in the curse,” he said quietly, “but given the facts I presented, can you honestly tell me that you would be willing to risk your daughter’s life on the possibility that I am wrong?”

Lord Hedington pressed his lips tightly together, then finally shook his head.

“Given the circumstances,” Philip continued, “I told Lady Sarah I quite understood if she chose to cry off. Indeed, I strongly encouraged her to do so.”

Lord Hedington’s face paled a bit. “And if she hadn’t?”

Philip’s gaze did not waver. “I would not have married her. Not today. I cannot consider doing so until I determine if there is a way to break the curse.”

“Then why the bloody hell did you come here today?” the duke demanded.

“I did not know of Lady Sarah’s decision. I tried to see her yesterday, but she remained indisposed. If she’d chosen to come to the church today, I wanted to talk to her, explain again why we could not marry, at least at this time. Encourage her to consider a postponement. I couldn’t just abandon my bride at the altar.”