Page 73 of Make Mine a Marquess

Good God. What maggot was eating his brain? He needed to clear his thoughts. Concentrate on the goal. Revenge was within his grasp.

“More whisky will not help.” Aram appeared by his side.

Landon didn’t spare him a glance. “I know.”

“The lady slipped outside. Her mother is not with her.”

His voice sounded even more terse. “I know.”

“Will you follow?”

“You’re delaying me.”

Aram gave a slight shrug. “You should know that I plan on asking Miss Stanwell to dance.”

“You are a lucky fellow.” A servant walked by with a tray. Landon swapped his empty whisky glass for two flutes of champagne.

“Same goes for you, my friend.”

Phoebe had banked fires of passion beneath the surface. Every kiss had driven him more and more to distraction. It was too easy to forget his well-crafted plans of revenge. A sourness settled in the pit of his stomach. “If only I hadn’t met her under—” Landon shut his mouth.

“Under unfortunate circumstances?” Aram offered. “I do believe that the lady has the power to touch you deeply.”

“Impossible.” His jaw clenched. “She is a means to an end.”

“Maybe at first. But she’s innocent in all of this. We have found no evidence of her involvement in Willard’s crimes.”

“I agree. It’s been some time since I even considered it.” When he’d first seen Phoebe sneaking back into the house, his suspicious nature had arisen. She might have snuck into the village to do Willard’s dirty work. Perhaps even warn Aiden Cawley that Landon and Aram had been searching for him. Or facilitate some other detail of Willard’s plot. His mind hadn’t been fully at ease since the ship’s fire, and he’d had five long years to dwell on his suspicions and hone his distrust.

Then, seeing her leave the house the next time, he had followed her. When they’d met with Sarah Smith and her charity house of unwed expectant mothers, he’d discovered that his suspicions were unfounded. The experience had affected him more than he’d like to admit. He’d found himself repairing a door. Phoebe had arrived with a laundry basket perched on her hip. She’d set the basket down and stood by his side, handing him tools as he’d worked. He’d enjoyed the manual labor, found purpose in the work, and for the first time in a long time, he hadn’t been preoccupied with thoughts of revenge.

“Good, then you must know that she has grown to trust you. And if my instinct is correct, she is falling in love with you.”

Landon stood stock still, his heart drumming in his chest. He pressed his lips together. “You’re wrong. She’s going to marry Willard.”

“Maybe she feels like she has no choice. You can offer her a choice.”

“You’re speaking in riddles, man.”

“I will make it simple. You can marry her yourself.”

Landon nearly recoiled. “No. That was never my plan. And she deserves better.” Despite his denial, he had thought of it more and more lately. Of how sweet it would be to have her grace his arm as his wife. The trouble was he had changed after the ship’s fire, and not for the better. His entire existence was consumed with revenge. Phoebe was pure and perfect. A selfless soul who sacrificed to help the less fortunate. His soul was damaged and blackened by fire. She deserved to find a man who could unconditionally love her.

He could never love.

“What makes you think you are not the right man for her?”

“I can’t give her what she needs. What she deserves.”

“I disagree, my friend.” Aram gave him a maddeningly annoying look—one that said he didn’t believe him. “Then if you insist on sticking with your plan, do not hurt the lady.”

Not wanting to engage with Aram any longer, Landon turned on his heel and headed out the open French doors.

Moonlight glinted off Phoebe’s golden hair. He was reminded of the first time he’d seen her. The only difference was that tonight she wore a blue gown instead of the white costume and quiver of arrows.

Thankfully, they were alone on the terrace. Every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation of touching her. “You look like a goddess. Just as when I first saw you by the garden bench.”

She turned and again…he was struck by her beauty. Her upswept golden hair revealed the long, graceful line of her neck. The bodice of her gown artfully exposed the swell of her luscious breasts. He recalled the feel of them pressed against his chest. Her blue eyes were tilted at the corners with long, dark lashes. It wasn’t just her beauty that drew him. She was keenly intelligent and a challenging tavlou player. Most men didn’t find a woman’s intelligence an attractive quality. He was not one of them. She was fiercely loyal and had empathy for others. Her dedication to her charity was compelling and admirable. But it was her passionate kisses that could bring him to his knees and was most dangerous. He wondered what she was thinking.