Page 53 of Make Mine a Marquess

He did. A little too much. He clenched his jaw and tried to disguise his frustration. How many hours before he saw her again?

As for Phoebe not being born a lady, neither was his own mother. As Landon thought of his mother, a warmth centered in his chest, easing his stress for a brief moment. She’d openly expressed her love for her son and used to thank the servants. From what he’d witnessed at his time at Eton, aristocratic mothers didn’t usually express affection for their sons, and they definitely didn’t openly express gratitude toward their servants.

“My mother wasn’t born a lady, but she was more of a lady than most of the haughty women of the beau monde I’ve known.”

A thought struck him, one he’d never considered before regarding a female. His mother would have liked Phoebe.

The realization made matters worse, and his agitation increased with a vengeance. He drained the contents of his drink, then set it down on the end table. It shouldn’t matter if his mother would have enjoyed an afternoon drinking tea and chatting with Phoebe. It didn’t change his past or his future plans.

“She volunteers for a London charity for unwed mothers. Mrs. Dawson doesn’t know the extent of her daughter’s endeavors,” Landon said.

Aram rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger. “I wonder why Miss Dawson chose that specific charity? If she is as involved as you say, have you wondered why?”

“I’ve thought of it. She had a look in her eyes when she spoke of the charity. I’m thinking she met a young woman there she’d befriended. Or she knew of a girl who’d gotten herself into trouble. I haven’t come out and asked her.”

“Perhaps.” Aram’s voice was laced with suggestion in a way that made Landon feel as if there was more.

“What are you suggesting?” Landon snapped a bit too harshly. “That she herself got into trouble?” The thought that Phoebe had been pregnant was ludicrous, really. Landon couldn’t imagine it. Yet the flash in her eyes had spoken of something else. His instincts, which had been honed from survival, were heightened.

Aram slightly arched an eyebrow, the only reaction to Landon’s harsh tone. “I’m not suggesting anything. Only that you could learn more about her the next time you play tavlou. Such knowledge might prove useful.”

He knew what his friend meant. Anything that could be used against Willard was worth looking into. His jaw hardened more. “I intend to,” he snapped.

Landon knew his pent-up frustration was the reason for the razor-sharp edge to his voice. He didn’t care.

“You seem stressed,” Aram pointed out.

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Before waiting for his response, Aram snatched Landon’s abandoned glass and went to the sideboard and removed the decanter stopper. “I’ll pour you another. I haven’t seen you in such a state of stress in a while.”

“You are misinterpreting things.” But Landon took the glass and drained its contents in a single swallow.

Aram shook his head. “I don’t think so. Rather, I believe Miss Dawson is getting under your skin. I’d say you even admire her. Either way, you are preoccupied. She’s unlike any of the ladies in this house. Unlike most of the ladies in London.”

His friend was too perceptive. Especially when it came to Phoebe. “I don’t need reminding. Nor am I besotted or at risk of losing my head. Her seduction is part of a greater plan—a plan to destroy the man responsible for the deaths of many innocent sailors and my own near demise. Even after we find evidence of his criminal acts, seducing away Phoebe’s dowry will ensure that Willard is unable to pay off his debts or pay a solicitor.”

Aram hesitated, seeming to weigh his words. “I’ve been thinking. Plans can change. Why not seize some happiness for yourself? When this is all over, you can make her your marchioness.”

His friend was needling him, dammit. “I cannot. And you know why. You were there for most of it.”

Aram leveled his gaze. “You survived.”

“Barely.” Landon let out a gruff laugh. “Seduction is one thing. Marriage is another entirely. It’s not in the cards for me right now, especially not with Phoebe Dawson.” Frustration twisted in his gut. “I’ve changed and you know it.”

“Ah, you believe you are damaged by vengeance?”

His jaw tightened. “Damaged. Driven. What’s the difference?”

“Once you get your vengeance, what of the lovely miss?” Aram asked.

“She will go on to find an amorous suitor. One who gives her illusions of love.”

Aram arched a dark eyebrow. “Illusions?”

“It doesn’t exist. Either way, my past has made me unworthy. When I do marry, it will be far in the future and for the sole purposes of an heir, not a poet’s lies of love.” His voice was full of bitterness.

“Then why this urgency I sense in you to see the miss?”