Page 22 of The Rogue’s Countess

“I’ll be certain to tell Myers, my lord.”

Gideon bobbed his head in the stablemaster’s direction before turning and heading toward the rear of the house. As he entered the back hall, he dropped his hat and riding gloves onto a small table at the door, then strode down the hallway to the breakfast room. As Gideon approached the small, intimate room used only for family meals, Phoebe’s voice drifted through the air.

There was a sweetness to the sound that made him clenched his jaw as he released a soft grunt of irritation. He intended to have Phoebe in his bed, but he could not allow himself to be moved by her. The memory of his desperate search for her in Montjoy’s ballroom that night was a stark reminder as to how he’d almost made a complete fool of himself that night. Even worse was his moment of weakness months afterward when he’d come close to calling on her at Helstone Place.

Gideon had almost reached the breakfast room doorway when the sound of his mother’s laugh brought him to an abrupt halt. She’d been laughing just as merrily last night. A fact he’d overlooked due to his attention being focused on Phoebe. Now he allowed himself to enjoy the sound of his mother’s laughter.

It had been a long time since Gideon had heard her laugh so easily. It was similar to the sound he’d heard so often as a child. He’d thought never to hear his mother laugh again after his father had died. Although she’d never said it, Gideon was certain his father was the only man she’d ever really loved. The mother he’d known had been changed forever the day his father had died.

Gideon had been too young for his mother to lean on him for support when his father had died. Instead, Thomas Lancaster, the Earl of Chelmsford, had been the shoulder his mother had cried on during her moments of profound grief. The earl had been a distant cousin of his mother’s, and the two of them had known each other since childhood. Thomas had once said that he had loved Gideon’s mother since they were children.

The earl had adored his wife, and she had learned to love him and laugh again as well. Not as she once had, but her laughter had been a pleasant sound nonetheless. When his half-sister was born, the doctor had said his mother could have no more children. The news had been a blow to Thomas as he’d wanted a son and heir.

Ironically, it had turned out that Gideon, as a distant relative of Thomas’s great-great-grandfather, found himself next in line to the title. The earl had never tried to be a father to him. Instead, Thomas had become a friend and confidant as he invested his time and energy training Gideon for his future role as the Earl of Chelmsford.

His step-father had often told Gideon he couldn’t have asked for a more worthy heir, and when Thomas had died, Gideon had felt the loss of his step-father deeply. His mother had been heartbroken at the loss of her companion and friend. While her laughter hadn’t died completely when Thomas died, it had taken on a softer, less hearty sound.

While the old earl had lived long enough to ease his wife’s profound grief from the death of Gideon’s father, that hadn’t been true in the marquess’s case. It had taken the man two years to convince Gideon’s mother to marry again, and he had died less than a week after their wedding.

Both the earl and the marquess had been good men, but Gideon knew they could never replace the part of his mother’s heart that had shriveled up and died along with his father. Now, as he heard his mother laugh again, he took pleasure in the sound. It was good to hear her laugh again, even if a social climber was responsible for his mother’s amusement.

Another peal of laughter drifted out into the hallway again, and he resumed his course. At the door of the breakfast room, he paused on the threshold. Seated at his mother’s left, Phoebe took notes while the marchioness examined several swatches of material lying on the table between the two women.

Phoebe murmured something, and his mother jerked her head up in surprise to look at her companion before she laughed again. A mischievous smile tilted Phoebe’s mouth as she looked at his mother. The picture the two of them presented was one of companionship and harmony. It was a pleasing sight.

The thought made him release a barely audible growl of anger. Christ Jesus, it was bad enough the woman had haunted his dreams last night. Now he was viewing the scene in front of him like a maudlin fool. Begrudgingly, he was forced to admit that Phoebe hadn’t been lying about never wanting to hurt his mother. It was apparent even to him that the two of them had become steadfast friends in a relatively short time.

It was an unforeseen complication that could make things difficult where his interest in Phoebe was concerned. His mother was forever matchmaking, and he had no intention of allowing her or Phoebe to trap him in the bonds of matrimony. In the back of his head, a voice cackled with mocking laughter. He ignored the sound as he walked toward the buffet to fix himself a plate of food.

“Good morning, my dear.” At his mother’s greeting, he glanced over his shoulder to see her beaming at him.

“Good morning, Mama,” he paused for a moment before he turned back to the buffet and addressed Phoebe without looking at her. “Lady Helstone. I trust you slept well.”

“Yes, my lord. Quite soundly.” There was the smallest hint of an acerbic note in her reply, but it was restrained enough to make her still sound polite.

Satisfied with the meal on his plate, he turned and walked across the floor to take the seat on his mother’s right, directly across from Phoebe. She didn’t look at him as he sat down, but he saw her stiffen in her chair. Gideon took a bite of beef and studied Phoebe for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother watching him with amusement, and he shifted his gaze toward her.

“Something amuses you, Mama?”

“Did you enjoy your ride this morning, dear? I understand Xerxes was quite temperamental while you were gone.”

The fact that she’d deliberately ignored his question indicated she’d seen him watching Phoebe and had come to a conclusion. Clearly, he would have to be even more careful than he’d originally thought.

“Actually, the new man Brown hired exercised him quite a bit while I was gone.” Gideon took a drink of the coffee his mother had poured for him. “The beast was somewhat cantankerous, but a good run in Hyde Park was enough to settle him down.”

“You should take Phoebe with you tomorrow morning.”

Gideon’s cup stopped halfway to his mouth as he stared at his mother in amazement. Across from him, Phoebe coughed hard, and he was certain it was because she was trying not to choke on her food. With another cough, she shook her head, and her features revealed how appalled she was at the suggestion.

“We’ve only just now caught up with the gala’s planning details, my lady.” The look on Lady Wrotham’s face made Phoebe avert her gaze as she addressed his mother. “And you cannot possibly expect his lordship to entertain the staff.”

“I find the idea of entertaining you a pleasurable one, my lady.” Gideon met Phoebe’s gaze across the table. If looks could kill, he would not have survived. He smiled pleasantly.

“Thank you, but I have no wish to—”

“You are most definitely not staff, Phoebe, and you need sunshine,” Lady Wrotham said with a motherly look as she studied Phoebe’s face.

“Shall we say nine o’clock tomorrow?” Gideon said casually as he took another bite of his breakfast. Phoebe glared at him and shook her head.