Page 9 of Make Mine a Marquess

Landon bent to retrieve one of the lawn bowls for the next group. “You made for a spirited partner.”

Phoebe’s mind was awhirl as she knelt to pick up one of the bowls. She couldn’t hold back any longer. “I remember you, my lord.”

Landon arched one dark eyebrow. “From years before? I do not think so. I certainly would remember you.”

“No. From last night.”

A heartbeat passed and she thought he would deny it, but then his full lips curved in a smile. “You are as observant as you are beautiful.”

She lowered her voice. “You do not deny it, Lord Pirate?”

“I know better than to deny a goddess, Lady Diana.”

She swallowed. Was he calling her a goddess or using the name simply because she’d worn the costume at last night’s masquerade?

“Why lead everyone to believe that you just arrived this afternoon when you had actually arrived last night?” Or had he arrived even earlier? Days? A week? Perhaps longer? She knew nothing about him.

“Because I wasn’t ready.”

What on earth did that mean? Before she could ask, he took the bowl from her hands and their fingers brushed. It was the briefest touch, yet her breath caught in her throat and her heart jolted.

“You lied,” she blurted out. She hated liars. Her past was not to be forgotten. “Why ask to partner me in lawn bowls when you could ask any lady, any available lady at this house party? None would refuse the formerly missing marquess.”

She grew conscious of others watching them as they spoke. The ladies whispered behind fluttering fans. The men bantered as they drank. Were they in London, the scandal sheets would fly into homes with talk of the Marquess of Landon’s first appearance.

“You want to know?” he asked.

Once again, her gaze fell to his lips, then slid to the divot in his chin. He was darkly handsome, the complete opposite to the fair-haired baron. “I would not inquire otherwise. Why ask me to play?”

“When I saw you in the gardens, I believed you were a goddess. Dressed as the mythical Diana, you were lovely beneath the light of the moon, and I was awestruck.”

His answer was not what she’d expected. Heart pounding, she stumbled but he was quick to reach out to steady her. Phoebe caught her breath. “Words of flattery come smoothly to you, my lord.”

“I speak the truth.”

Her anxiety veered sharply to anger. “Truly? I find that hard to believe.”

“Maybe you’ll believe another confession. I wanted to kiss you last night before I knew who you were and that you were engaged to the baron.”

Oh, my. He shouldn’t voice that admission. Not here. Not now. Not ever. A gentleman didn’t speak that way to a lady. And any sensible lady would put him in his place. Walk away. Never look back. Run.

Then why were her feet planted to the ground?

No! No! No!

She swallowed again. Her mouth was suddenly dry and parched. “I am in need of refreshment.”

He bowed. “Of course. It was a pleasure, Miss Dawson. I look forward to becoming better acquainted to my cousin’s fiancée during coming days.”

She affected an ease she did not feel. “I’m certain Lord Willard is ecstatic to have you back home.”

Something flickered far back in those dark eyes, something more telling than the smooth words that had escaped his lips moments before. She fled.

Her mother met her at the refreshment table. Mrs. Dawson fluttered her fan to cool her warm cheeks. “I daresay, all the women are talking about the return of the marquess. And to think, we are the first to see him. All of London will be jealous! They will invite us into their homes just to learn everything.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“It works in our favor that the marquess intends for the house party to carry on.”