Page 14 of The Rogue’s Countess

“I refuse to take no for an answer, Phoebe. Shall we say tomorrow at three o’clock? Lyndham House on Park Street in Mayfair.” The countess smiled merrily and didn’t give Phoebe the opportunity to express any objections. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

Still smiling, Lady Lyndham slipped her arm through her sister’s, and the two women walked out of the room before Phoebe could gather her wits and refuse the woman’s invitation.

§ § §

The next afternoon, Phoebe was still trying to comprehend how she’d managed to find herself stepping out of a hansom cab onto the sidewalk in front of Lyndham House. She paid the driver then slowly climbed the steps to the wide front stoop and its impressive door. Phoebe glanced down at her gown and winced. She’d only had time to pack a few dresses before Jasper had tossed her out and into the streets. Of all her day gowns, this dress looked the least outdated.

Why hadn’t she simply sent a note with her regrets? The thought tugged a wry smile to her lips. When it came to the Countess of Lyndham, she was relatively certain the woman would not have allowed her to escape so easily. Phoebe had no idea why the countess had invited her to tea, but she would express her thanks after a reasonable length of time and take her leave.

She inhaled a deep breath and tried to settle her nerves as she tugged on the doorbell handle. In seconds the door opened, and a butler invited her into the house. Phoebe was in the middle of removing her hat and gloves when a door to her right opened to reveal the Countess of Lyndham. To Phoebe’s surprise, she saw a glimpse of relief flit across the woman’s lovely features. The countess quickly crossed the main entrance’s floor to greet her warmly. A welcoming smile curved her mouth as the countess caught Phoebe’s hands in hers and gave them a light squeeze.

“Phoebe, you’re here at last. I was a bit worried you might send word you were unable to come,” Lady Lyndham exclaimed as she linked her arm with Phoebe’s and gently moved them toward the room she’d emerged from.

“I almost did, my lady,” Phoebe replied as she winced slightly at her confession. A frown of disapproval furrowed the other woman’s brow.

“I really do insist that you call me Constance, as I fully intend to call you Phoebe,” she chided Phoebe in a firm yet gentle voice. In the next breath, the countess smiled with exasperated amusement. “And do not let my brother Percy convince you that I prefer Connie. He knows I can’t abide the name. But I am so happy you came. I would have been deeply disappointed if you hadn’t.”

“Then, I’m delighted I’ve not spoiled your afternoon.” Phoebe laughed. The sound surprised her. It had been a long time since she’d found anything to laugh about, let alone smile. In the course of the past two days, the countess had managed with ease to make Phoebe laugh.

“Indeed, I would have been quite put out if I had been forced to come fetch you from Madame Sabine’s clutches.” The countess laughed.

As they entered the salon, Phoebe saw four women sitting around a low-level tea table. Trepidation swept through her, and Phoebe came to an abrupt halt. She recognized the Marchioness of Wrotham, and the woman pouring tea was Lady Lyndham’s youngest sister. The two older women, Phoebe didn’t know. At a light touch on her arm, Phoebe jerked her head toward the countess.

“You are among friends, Phoebe.” With a reassuring smile, Lady Lyndham gently pulled Phoebe across the room. As they reached the small group, all four of the women smiled a welcome. Constance gestured toward the oldest of the four women, seated in a chair close to the fireplace with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Grandmama, this is Lady Helstone. Phoebe, may I present the Dowager Countess of Lyndham.” Before Constance could turn away, the older woman arched her eyebrows slightly as her bright-eyed gaze skimmed over Phoebe in an assessing manner.

“Helstone? Are you married to that blackguard Helstone?” The question was blunt and to the point, but the kindness echoing in the dowager’s voice took the sting out of the words.

“No, my lady, I was married to Alfred Wakefield. Jasper Wakefield is the new Viscount Helstone. One Helstone was more than enough for me,” Phoebe said as she instinctively straightened her posture in preparation for a set down. The dowager countess’s eyes widened in surprise before she started to laugh boisterously.

“Now, I understand why my granddaughter took to you so quickly, my dear.” The older woman winked at Lady Lyndham. “You have the same backbone my Constance here has, which is why I made sure she married my grandson. She was just the thing the boy needed to keep him on his toes.”

“You know quite well, Grandmama, that no one can make Lucien do anything he doesn’t want to do.” Constance smiled and shook her head. The dowager raised her eyebrows as her gaze narrowed on her granddaughter-in-law.

“And you know good and well the amount of sway you have over him, Constance. The boy would move heaven and earth for you.”

“And I for him,” Constance replied as she stepped forward and kissed the elderly woman on the cheek.

Turning away from her grandmother, Constance continued with the introductions. With a sweep of her hand, she gestured in the direction of a plump older woman seated next to the marchioness.

“Aunt Matilda, Lady Wrotham, this is Lady Helstone. Phoebe, may I present Lady Matilda Stewart, my aunt, and her good friend, the Dowager Marchioness of Wrotham. And my sister, Louisa, soon to be the Countess of Argaty, is the one pouring the tea.”

“I’m delighted you were able to come, lass,” Constance’s aunt exclaimed in a soft brogue as she smiled warmly at Phoebe. “I know Constance was worried you might send your regrets.”

As Constance guided Phoebe to a nearby chair, Lady Stewart leaned forward to pour a cup of tea.

“Louisa, fix Lady Helstone a plate of those cress sandwiches Cook made, and one of those scones as well, while I pour the lass a cup of tea.” The Scotswoman said firmly.

“If anyone wishes to know how your nieces came to be so strong-willed, one need only look to you, Matilda,” Lady Wrotham said drolly before she smiled at Phoebe. “How are you, my dear Lady Helstone?”

“I am well, thank you. I hope you are in equally good health.” Phoebe said quietly as she sat down in a chair next to Constance and accepted a cup of tea from Lady Stewart.

“Do you know each other?” Constance asked in obvious surprise. She stared at first Phoebe and then Lady Wrotham.

“We do.” The marchioness smiled with genuine pleasure before a contemplative expression crossed her, still smooth and youthful face, despite her age. “Although I don’t believe we’ve seen each other since the…”

The dowager marchioness’s face took on a pained look as she met Phoebe’s gaze. A knot threatened to close Phoebe’s throat, but she smiled at the older woman. It was obvious from the woman’s dismay that she’d not intentionally referred to Alfred’s death and subsequent scandal.