His father squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds, then met Philip’s gaze. “If I were to pretend to believe all this rubbish, I’d say that clearly you believe very strongly in this curse. However, that belief is misguided, and, for all our sakes, you must put aside these… notions and attempt to correct this debacle you’ve created. You’ve spent too many years away from civilization, immersed in ancient customs that simply do not apply in today’s modern world.”

“There is no mistaking the words scripted on the stone.”

“They are words, Philip. Nothing more. From what you’ve told me, they are the ramblings of a jilted, jealous man. They have no power-unless you insist upon giving power to them. Do not do so.”

“I’m afraid I cannot oblige you, Father, other than to assure you that I shall devote myself to the search for the missing piece of stone.”

Lord Hedington harrumphed. “As I’m not certain at this moment what to believe or make of this curse story, I have to agree with Ravensly that no word of it is to leave this room.” His scowl encompassed the entire group. “Agreed?”

Everyone nodded and murmured their assent.

“And I want to find my daughter.”

“Both excellent plans, your grace,” Philip agreed. “However, I believe the more pressing matter at the moment is the hundreds of guests waiting in the church.” He dragged his hands down his face, his gaze alternating between Father, Lord Hedington, and Miss Chilton-Grizedale. “Since we’ve agreed for now not to mention the curse, we shall have to agree upon another excuse, for I’m afraid we can no longer delay a formal announcement that today’s wedding will not be taking place.”

Grim-faced, Lord Hedington and Father headed toward the door. Just as Philip fell into step behind them, a low moan, followed by a thud, sounded behind him. He looked over his shoulder and froze.