Page 52 of Make Mine a Marquess

“I’d rather think about helping here. I know the house party will end, but once I know where to send help, I can continue from Town. Finding Sarah Smith is a much-needed distraction.”

Beatrice looked as if she would argue more, but thankfully, Landon joined them. “I’m grateful both of you ladies accompanied me. It was a successful visit.”

“We learned things as well,” Beatrice said as she gave Phoebe a sideways glance. “You should know the tenants we spoke with are happy you’ve come back, my lord.”

He nodded. “I reassured them. Everything will change now. Nothing will be as it was.”

Nothing will be as it was.

Phoebe feared his words were true. Now that she’d spent time with the marquess, nothing could go back to the way it had been. Her feelings for Willard had changed. Whereas she hadn’t really considered him previously, what hadn’t bothered her in the past now settled like a lump of coal in her gut.

She’d wanted a businesslike marriage, a mutual arrangement. Her dowry in exchange for the title her parents desired. She’d never wanted passion—that led only to disaster and heartache. She’d experienced both in her youth from a stable worker. She’d initially thought Landon was a rogue and a liar. He’d lied about when he’d first returned to England. Dressed as a pirate, he’d approached her and lied to her in the gardens during the masquerade ball.

But then she’d gotten to know him. He was intelligent. A survivor of a tragedy. And most impressive, he cared for his tenants. Truly cared for their well-being. Instead of avoiding him, she longed to spend time with him, and—heaven help her—craved his kiss, and anticipated heated competition over a game of backgammon.

Nothing will be as it was.

It was all madness, and these feelings could only lead to her doom. She must strengthen her resolve and resist the tempting man riding beside her. Because a broken engagement was not an option.

Chapter Fourteen

Phoebe’s maid, Anne, handed her a letter when she arrived back at the house. “This arrived for you in the morning post while you were out riding, miss.”

The letter was not sealed, and the handwriting was bold printed script. It looked like a man’s handwriting.

Phoebe tore open the letter and, discovering its author, her heart beat swiftly. “It’s from Sarah! Sarah Smith!”

Beatrice nudged her. “Read it out loud. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Phoebe’s voice rose with excitement. “She would like to meet in person. Tomorrow, if possible.”

“Where?” Beatrice asked.

“In the village. Outside the milliner’s at noon.”

Beatrice sank onto the settee. “Thank goodness she didn’t say in the tavern!” Beatrice snapped her fingers. “You said at noon?”

“Yes.”

“That’s when the musical performance is to take place. The Madison twins are to play and sing once again. Everyone is expected to attend.”

Phoebe bit her bottom lip as her mind raced. “Everyone but me. I’ll have to think of something.”

…

“The tenants like Miss Dawson.” Landon poured two tumblers of whisky and handed one to Aram. He’d met his friend in the study soon after returning. A tenseness had enveloped him after the afternoon ride, and he needed a drink. The unwarranted stress made no sense, since everything had gone well with his tenants. But if he was honest with himself, he knew the precise reason behind his agitation.

Phoebe.

“Are you surprised about the tenants liking Miss Dawson?” Aram asked.

Landon swirled the whisky in his glass before taking a sip. “No. She has a way about her that puts others at ease. She wasn’t born an aristocrat and doesn’t have the sense of entitlement found amongst the English nobility. She managed to give the baskets to the women without it seeming like charity. They are hardworking and proud people.”

“And you admire that about her, too, don’t you?”

“What?”

“That she wasn’t born a lady,” Aram said.