Since she wished to postpone thinking about the dreadful ramifications should he fail, she asked, “How long do you estimate it will take you to search through your crates?”

He frowned and considered. “With help, perhaps a fortnight.”

The wheels in her head whirred. “That should give us ample time to come up with a contingency plan.”

“And what sort of plan do you suggest, Miss Chilton-Grizedale? Believe me, I am open to suggestions. But I fail to see any, as the facts are quite irrefutable: If I do not break the curse, I cannot marry. And I must marry. However, with this curse hanging about my neck, I would risk the life of any woman I married-something I am not willing to do. And I cannot imagine any woman being willing to do so.”

Unfortunately, Meredith was hard-pressed to immediately name anyone who would want to marry even the heir to an earldom, only to risk expiring two days later. “But surely-”

“Tell me, Miss Chilton-Grizedale, would you be willing to take such a risk?” He stepped closer to her, and suddenly the room seemed to shrink significantly. “Would you want to risk losing your life by becoming my bride?”

Meredith fought the urge to back up, to fan herself to relieve the heat creeping up her neck. Instead she lifted her chin and faced him squarely. “Naturally I would not wish to die two days after my wedding, if I were to believe in such things as curses. Which, in spite of your compelling arguments, I am still inclined to regard as a series of unfortunate coincidences. However, the point is moot, my lord, as I have no desire to ever marry.”

Surprise flickered behind his spectacles. “That places you in a category of females that I believe you might be in all by yourself.”

“I have never objected to solitude.” She tilted her head and studied him for several seconds, then asked, “Do you normally place people into ‘categories’?”