Page 26 of The Rogue’s Countess

“I will come,” she said quietly. Immediately, Alva’s expression became one of delight.

“Thank you.”

Satisfied with Phoebe’s promise, the marchioness changed topics and began to review the guestlist for the charity ball. Her employer’s voice sounded as though she were far away as Phoebe tried to determine which of her few gowns would be suitable for the evening. Everything she owned was outdated, but she knew better than to use her lack of suitable clothing as a reason to beg off attending the dinner party. Phoebe’s gaze fell on the newspaper to the side of her plate. Although it was impossible to avoid this evening’s meal, it had become patently clear that she needed to find a new position as quickly as possible. Failure to do so would be disastrous.

Chapter 7

Phoebe froze at the bottom of the stairs as she heard the hum of conversation drifting out of the salon. One hand on the stairway balustrade, she wanted to turn around and hurry back up the stairs to her room. She could always send word that she had taken ill. A quiet tread on the stairs behind her made Phoebe spin around on her heel to see Gideon descending the stairs.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The man was devastating, even when frowning. The dinner jacket and tie he wore was in the style made fashionable by the Prince of Wales several years earlier. Before he reached the foot of the stairs, she quickly stepped back out of reach. She had yet to recover from this morning’s encounter in the breakfast room.

Gideon’s gaze remained locked with hers as he descended the stairs and reached the foyer. In a lazy move, he rested his elbow on the flat curl of the bannister and folded his hands together. He looked completely relaxed as he leaned against the post. Despite the nonchalant pose, the manner in which he studied her was that of a predator contemplating how much he would enjoy his evening feast.

Phoebe’s heart slammed into her chest as she knew exactly what kind of meal it would be. He would devour every inch of her with his mouth and hands—his entire body. The thought made every muscle in her body tighten. With just one look, the man could make her crave his touch.

The sensitive spot between her legs contracted in reaction to the erotic thoughts suddenly flowing through her head. Vivid images of her body entwined with his made her draw in a quick breath, which she quickly swallowed before drawing in another one. Dear God, she was mad to be imagining such things. Gideon’s eyes narrowed slightly as a small smile touched his lips.

“So, you managed to secure an invitation to the table this evening.” The condescension in his voice rankled, and Phoebe stiffened.

“I did not ask to be invited. I tried to refuse, but as you said this morning, Lady Wrotham is quite dogged in her efforts to achieve an objective.”

“No doubt,” he murmured satirically. Skepticism darkened his face, and Phoebe thought she saw a flash of disappointment in his gaze. “Although I find it difficult to believe as it’s obvious you’ve dressed for battle this evening.”

“Battle?” Startled, she blinked in confused surprise at his comment.

“If you thought to capture my attention, you have it. But I am surprised you decided to launch a counter-attack so quickly.”

“Your—I did not dress to catch your eye, you arrogant beast,” she hissed with disgust at his assumption. “This is the only gown—”

An eyebrow arched in surprise, Gideon eyed her with curiosity as she abruptly stopped speaking. Humiliation made her face grow warm with embarrassment as Phoebe realized that for a second time today, she’d referred to her limited wardrobe. All too aware of his skeptical nature, the man most likely thought she hoped to secure a new dress from him. It was the last thing she would ever accept from any man, especially the Earl of Chelmsford.

He knew nothing about her. The man had judged her and found her wanting. She was tired of allowing others to make her feel small when they were no better or less than her. Worst of all, his poor opinion of her troubled her far more deeply than she wanted it to. The fact that he believed she was capable of marrying for money and position cut deep. It left her feeling as vulnerable and exposed as the night he’d made love to her.

“I’m disappointed,” he said with a smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“I don’t understand.” She tipped her head to one side and scowled at him, and Gideon chuckled.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t think of me while preparing for the evening.” His smug comment angered Phoebe, and she glared at him for a moment, then smiled.

“Oh, but I did, my lord,” she said with cloying sweetness at him. “I thought about you a great deal.”

“Ahh, and exactly what did you think about me, my sweet Phoebe. I hope your thoughts were pleasant ones.”

“They were indeed. I plotted several different ways to bring about your demise, Lord Chelmbee.” Phoebe smiled cheerfully at the way he stiffened the moment she used the name she’d given him in the Currer Chronicles.

“And pray tell what method did you settle on, Phoebe?” Something in his quiet question said she might pay a price if she continued to taunt him, but Phoebe was enjoying the fact that she’d managed to get under his skin.

“Well, Lord Chelmbee, I thought it would be amusing to tie you to a tree, drench you in honey, and wait for whatever animal arrived to feast on your limbs.”

Irritation flashed in his silvery eyes as she mocked him again with his nickname. Delighted with his reaction, she smiled with great amusement. He truly loathed the nickname P. Currer had given him. The man would be livid by the time she was finished lampooning him in the next installment.

Phoebe had already begun the next chapter in the serial. She would have to come up with something even more disdainful than what was already on paper. In the back of her mind, a small voice warned her to take care. If he were ever to discover she was the author of the satirical chronicles, his reaction would be far from pleasant.

Still, it was impossible not to enjoy his response to the volley of barbed words she’d inflicted on his pride. The man deserved to be taken down a notch or two for arrogantly believing she’d dressed to please him. Mocking laughter echoed loudly in her head as the voice reminded her how she’d wished for something more fashionable to wear this evening. Phoebe quickly and blithely dismissed the thought. It was her vanity, nothing more, that had made her long for a new dress.

Gideon narrowed his gaze at her, and the irritation on his handsome features made her choke back a laugh. Suddenly a wolfish smile curved his mouth. It instantly put her on her guard. The man was a formidable opponent when it came to verbal taunts. She had held her ground so far, but her ability to launch rapid salvos of scorn in his direction was limited when they were face-to-face. In a battle of wits, she was far better equipped to injure his pride with her pen than in a verbal exchange.

His movements were deceptively unhurried as he straightened to his full height and took a step toward her. Phoebe steeled herself not to take a step backward as he closed the small space between them. The instant mere inches separated them, she realized her mistake. Bergamot and pine flooded her senses, and she swallowed hard at how wonderful he smelled.