“Not at all,” Meredith said briskly. “A lie is making false statements. ‘Tis not a lie to simply not tell everything you know.”

“Actually, I believe that is called a ‘lie of omission. ’”

“It appears you possess an overactive conscience, Lord Greybourne.” At least she could be grateful that he had a conscience-dusty relic though it most likely was.

“More a case of liking my facts and definitions to be neatly aligned.”

“Must be your scientific nature.”

“Yes.” The low hum of muffled voices drifted into the room. Lord Greybourne rose and walked to the window. His lips flattened. “People are leaving the church. Clearly the announcement has been made.” For several seconds he appeared lost in a brown study, then suddenly his eyes focused directly on her. “It has just occurred to me that this episode no doubt bodes poorly for you and your matchmaking enterprise.”

Meredith stared at him, grimly noting that his position by the window bathed him with a golden halo of light- quite a feat for a man she regarded as the devil himself.

“Bodes poorly?” She nearly laughed at his understatement. “Ruination of gargantuan proportions more aptly describes the future of my matchmaking enterprise.” She did not bother to voice the obvious-that this entire mess was his fault-him and his wretched curse. Surely there must be a way to fix this? She chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds, and a possible solution sprang to mind.

“I’m certain we can agree that the cancellation of today’s ceremony is problematic, not just for me, but for everyone involved,” she said. “If, however, you and Lady Sarah were to marry at a future date, preferably soon, that would dispel any scandal, and everyone would see that I did indeed make a wonderful match.”

He nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “I agree with your theory. However, you are forgetting about the curse.”

She debated whether to baldly state her opinion regarding the curse.