Page 90 of Make Mine a Marquess

Tears clouded her vision, and she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. She needed to leave this house. Flee. Forget both men, especially the Marquess of Landon. His inner demons, his lust for revenge, his hatred of the baron, would destroy everyone close to him.

Especially her.

This heartache was worse than years ago. Looking back, Phillip had been a childish crush, a young girl’s fancy. Landon was different. The type of man a woman would never forget. A man who valued her spirit, her need to help others. A man who did not seek to clip her wings, but who wanted to see her fly. A perfect lover.

Had any of that been real?

She stepped away from the door. She needed to save what was left of herself, and a confrontation with the two men outside her door was not the way. Slipping back into bed, she pressed a hand to her heart as if she could hold it together. It felt like it was broken, shattered into a thousand pieces.

How would it ever heal again?

Chapter Twenty-Five

This time, it wasn’t hard to find Aiden Cawley. The man had returned to the village on his own. Landon knew why, after he’d discovered the letter written by Willard.

Cawley would only get payment in full when Landon’s body was delivered to his cousin’s doorstep.

The barkeep had told them Cawley had spent the night in one of the tavern’s rooms after too much gin the night before. Landon and Aram sat at one of the tables, waiting for the bloke to rise. They would have barged into the room, but decided it was best if Cawley, who was oblivious to their presence, dressed on his own.

This time, Landon hadn’t bothered to disguise himself in worn clothing; he was garbed as a fine lord. Aram was dressed the same. The tavern’s patrons watched both men beneath hooded gazes. The pair ignored the stares.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Landon said.

“As is your right, my friend,” Aram said, then eyed him quizzically. “But what about Miss Dawson?”

“What about her?”

“The incriminating letters in your pocket were found in her room,” Aram said.

“So?” He didn’t like the direction of the conversation. He also knew his friend could not be waylaid.

Aram’s brown eyes watched him. “And you stayed the night. I assume she walked in on you.”

“She did.”

“And her future?”

Landon’s jaw tensed. “She isn’t marrying Willard.”

“Then you have achieved all you have set out to. Once the letters, along with Cawley’s statement, result in Willard’s arrest”—he inclined his head to the second floor of the tavern where Cawley was staying—“the Dawsons would never go ahead with the marriage anyway.”

“True. Either way, my cousin will not get a shilling of Phoebe’s dowry.” When the truth came out about her fiancé, Phoebe would be free of his dastardly cousin. Everything he planned would soon come to fruition.

An image of her lying beside him last night was ingrained in his mind. He’d never forget their passionate evening. She was everything a man could want and more. Adventurous and without inhibitions, she’d been his fantasy.

Doubtless, he’d suffer the most. Recalling every sigh, every moan, would haunt him and have him aching every night.

His only consolation was that she’d never know why he’d been in her room in the first place. She believed he’d missed her, not that he was searching for incriminating letters against her fiancé. She had no reason to suspect otherwise.

She deserved better. Better than Willard.

And much better than a damaged man like himself.

“Why do I sense hesitancy in you?” Aram asked.

His friend was too observant. He ignored the question. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings for Phoebe, not when he didn’t fully understand them himself.

But Aram wouldn’t let him off that easily. “Aren’t you at all concerned about the effect everything will have on her?”