Page 62 of Make Mine a Marquess

“Sugar?” Aram repeated.

“That’s right. Saltpeter, sugar and a flame. And poof!” Hugh raised his hands to emphasize an explosion.

On the way home, Landon’s jaw was tight. “Willard was too smart to have his name on the bill of goods or the receipt. He used his hired lackey, Aiden Cawley.”

Aram shook his head. “We already looked at the ship’s manifest for the cargo and there was no saltpeter on it.”

“They must have labeled the crate falsely. It’s easy to do. Either the marine surveyor didn’t check, or they paid him to look the other way. Somehow, saltpeter was on that ship.” Landon was certain. It explained so many things. The great gobs of smoke. The swiftly burning fire. The distinctive reddish color of the flames.

“I do recall something else that was on the ship’s manifest for the cargo,” Aram said.

Landon searched the recesses of his mind. “Sugar! Bloody sugar.” The ship was headed to the Middle East and sugar was always in demand. Things were starting to make more sense.

But it wasn’t enough. They knew who was behind the nefarious deed and how it was accomplished, but nothing linked Willard to any of it. “We need to find that accomplice.”

Aram clasped him on the shoulder. “We will find him. Meanwhile, what of your other plans? I take it you and Miss Dawson are playing more than just tavlou?”

An image rose in his mind of Phoebe contemplating her next move, her blue eyes focused on the backgammon board as she leaned forward, giving him a glimpse of the perfect swell of her breasts. His skin had grown hot, and the blood had pounded in his brain and through his body.

Christ, just thinking of her now was arousing.

“She’s hiding something,” Landon said. “I saw her coming back from the village alone when I was searching Willard’s room. She was dressed in a dark cloak with a hood.”

“Yet you recognized her from that distance?” Aram asked.

He’d recognize her anywhere. Without meaning to, he’d memorized the way she walked. Gracefully and with pride. The hood of the cloak had slipped, and before she could reach up to secure it, her golden hair had gleamed beneath the late afternoon sun.

His voice was gruff. “I recognized her.”

Aram watched his face. “When will you see her again?”

“This afternoon, if she comes for another match.”

“Good. Stay focused, my friend.”

Oh, he would. He was getting closer and closer to vengeance. Soon he’d have his revenge and his justice. Once he did, he’d be free. Free to finally pursue a future for himself without the burden of dead sailors and five long lost years upon his shoulders. With renewed purpose, he swore to use any means necessary to get it.

…

“You’ll look lovely in the gown we chose, Phoebe.” Her mother held open her wardrobe doors and fingered the blue silk. “Madame Annette has outdone herself.”

“You’re right, of course, Mother.” Phoebe’s voice sounded hollow to her own ears in contrast to the first time she’d seen the blue silk gown. The garment was like a shimmering lake and would catch the light from the ballroom chandeliers. Madame Annette was indeed talented, and the silk fit her like a second skin to nip at her waist, to accentuate her bodice and the length of her legs. The color emphasized her blue eyes.

But today, she felt nothing but empty inside.

She sat on the edge of her bed as her mother whisked the gown from the wardrobe.

The upcoming ball signified the near conclusion of the house party. They would stay one more day before departing for home. Phoebe usually experienced a thrill from lovely clothes. But tonight, the gown, which she’d once been excited to wear to the upcoming country ball, seemed as confining and damning as something she’d wear to the gallows.

The truth of her rioting emotions was as striking.

She did not want the house party to end.

She did not wish to marry.

At least, she did not wish to marry the baron.

Maybe she needed more time to accept the match and the impending changes to her life. Still, more time made little sense since she’d readily accepted the baron’s proposal a full two months prior to the start of the house party. She’d never once protested or spoken a contrary word about the match to her parents. Rather, she’d been set on her course of action, on her future, and she’d been content.