Page 57 of Make Mine a Marquess

She inwardly frowned, confused. She’d always found comfort in Willard’s familiarity—his dress, his manners, his behavior. She knew what to expect and not to expect. Raging passion was last on her list. It wasn’t even desired.

Rather, she longed for the stability of a predictable, normal aristocratic marriage. A stuffy English union. That way, she could pour her own passion—her tendency for exuberance which had led to past disasters—into a worthy cause, such as the Society of Unwed Mothers.

Oh, she understood her husband would expect his marital rights. If she liked her spouse, didn’t long for him, then she believed her heart would be safe.

When had her plans changed? Had it happened during a game of backgammon? Or a ride in the country to visit tenants the marquess cared for, the same tenants Willard had neglected? Or simply because of the marquess’s heated kisses?

She needed to refocus. To remember why she’d agreed to her parents’ choice of husband for her. She knew they both desired a titled daughter for their own reasons, and that deep down, they believed it was best for her. As for herself, she was done with rogues and liars. With the baron, she knew what she was getting—knew the advantages and disadvantages.

Yes, she must refocus.

She just needed time. “Lord Willard sought our counsel and asked if the wedding could take place immediately upon our return to Town,” her father said.

“We offer no protest, of course, but there are other factors,” her mother said.

A traitorous sliver of hope sprang in her chest. “What factors?”

Her mother’s hand fluttered in the air. “Your father’s solicitor is preparing the marriage contract. I was to arrange the reading of the banns in our parish church.”

“I don’t understand,” Phoebe said.

Her father was a shrewd businessman and Phoebe knew he would negotiate the most advantageous contract for the family and ensure she would be cared for. Her mother would do her part regarding the planning of the wedding. Starting with the banns.

“The banns have not been read. I intended to arrange for them after our country sojourn, not beforehand. How was I to know the baron would want to marry so swiftly?”

“He needs her dowry,” her father said matter-of-factly.

“Archibald!” Her mother turned to face him, her face reddening. “A crude accounting is unacceptable amongst ladies and—”

Phoebe looked at her mother. “It’s true, Mother. We all know it. But Papa will arrange it so that I am not to worry.”

Mr. Dawson’s mouth was grim. “Titles have been exchanged for money for centuries. We are no different. What I haven’t told you, Phoebe, but what you should know, is that the baron not only gets your dowry, but more money, as time passes, if needed. But I will be in control of the purse strings.”

“Archibald!” Her mother’s face reddened even more, as she pressed a hand to her heart. “She does not need to know.”

“No more hysterics!” Her father pounded his fist on the table. “You shall get the entry into Society you’ve longed for, and I will get the clout to enter those fancy men’s clubs. Business has never been better.” Her father looked at her with pride. “And our dear Phoebe will be a lady.”

Phoebe felt as if her breath had been cut off. “You plan to continue to pay Lord Willard after our wedding?”

“Only as needed. It’s for your security. I need to know my girl will be looked after.”

Rioting emotions assailed her. First, she was appalled that Willard expected more money and that he would accept it. She felt like a prized horse at Tattersall’s. Second, her father was smarter than even she had thought. And devoted.

“I’m glad you told me, Papa.” It was another reason she wanted to please him. To not disappoint either of them.

Her mother, however, disliked her father’s honesty. She stood as straight as a schoolmarm and glared at her husband. “I am accustomed to your crude manners, sir, but hope they become refined when we arrive back to London.”

Her father wouldn’t back down. “I will be on my best behavior at the frivolous Wednesday night assembly at Almack’s you keep mentioning. Assuming Phoebe gets a voucher, of course, and you accompany her.”

Her mother’s response was a huff.

“And what of Willard’s request to swiftly wed?” Phoebe turned the topic back to the question at hand. She wanted to flee before her parents began more sparring.

“It will have to wait until we return, and the reading of the banns occurs,” her mother said.

Phoebe wanted to kiss her mother for the delay. Instead, she bit her inner cheek to prevent herself from smiling and lowered her voice demurely. “I understand, Mother.”

Chapter Fifteen