Page 25 of The Rogue’s Countess

“Until last night, his lordship and I had only met once before. It was a brief encounter several years ago at a ball Lord Montjoy hosted,” Phoebe replied quietly as she picked up the London Times where she’d dropped it the moment Gideon had toyed with her while his mother was out of the room. “I’m surprised Lord Chelmsford even remembered me.”

“Oh my dear, do you truly think yourself forgettable?” Her employer gently remonstrated Phoebe for her remark. “You are a lovely woman, Phoebe. Any man would be hard-pressed not to try and win your heart.”

Lady Wrotham’s words sent an icy chill rolling over Phoebe’s skin. Marriage offered a woman nothing and a man everything. She shook her head and forced a laugh past the knot trying to close her throat.

“I have no heart to win,” she said. “I am like Mr. Currer’s character, Lady Waddlestone. I shall never marry again.”

“You cannot possibly mean that, Phoebe,” Lady Wrotham gasped in dismay.

“Well, perhaps comparing myself to Lady Waddlestone, or rather Lady Waddington, is unwise. I think the woman’s dramatic protestation that she’ll never marry again was simply designed to ensure Lord Nitwitherspoon pursues her. Naturally, that was enough incentive for Lord Pluckward to announce that he will succeed in convincing the poor woman to marry him before Nitwitherspoon does,” Phoebe paused to lean forward and speak in a loud, conspiratorially whisper. “I cannot think of anything more unpleasant than listening to the man drone on about how his prize cock won in a faceoff with Lord Nitwitherspoon.”

Laughter broke past marchioness’s lips at Phoebe’s remark. Relief made Phoebe breathe easier as her effort to distract the woman succeeded. Alva wagged her finger at Phoebe in an admonishing gesture while still laughing.

“You are just as shockingly wicked as Mr. Currer, my dear. Prize fowl indeed.” Lady Wrotham released an unladylike snort. “We both know Currer is poking fun at Pickward and Witherspoon strutting around like prized roosters as they fight each other for Lady Waddlestone’s affections.”

“Ah, but are we certain that’s what Currer is referring to? It’s quite possible the man might have meant something far more base and intimate.”

Phoebe smiled mischievously at Lady Wrotham, who stared at her in horrified dismay for a moment before the woman began to laugh until tears formed in her eyes. After several moments, Lady Wrotham finally caught her breath, one hand pressed against her chest.

“My dear, Phoebe. I’m so glad you came to work with me. I’ve laughed more in the past three weeks than I have in a very long time.” The marchioness leaned forward and clasped Phoebe’s hand in hers. “I look forward to watching you put Gideon in his place when he’s being particularly pig-headed.”

Phoebe’s stomach lurched at the woman’s comment. The proposition of putting Gideon in his place was only asking for more trouble than she needed. When it came to a battle of wills, Phoebe was certain she would lose far more often than she would win. Lady Wrotham tipped her head to one side and frowned with concern.

“Are you feeling all right, my dear?” The woman’s question jolted Phoebe out of her thoughts, and she smiled. Not every skirmish between her and Gideon had to be verbal or limited to the page.

“Yes, I was simply thinking about the buffet for the charity ball. We still need floral arrangements for the food table. I thought roses might be the best choice. They should be readily available.”

“An excellent idea, my dear.” Lady Wrotham nodded her head. “The roses at Lethbridge Farm will be in full bloom. Gideon has won several prizes for his roses at the county fair.”

“We could also have the baker create a large cake for our dessert. It could be festooned with dozens of marzipan flowers of all kinds.” Phoebe paused for a moment, uncertain how her employer would react to her next suggestion. “We could even have the baker hide one or two bumblebees in the foliage.”

“What a clever idea. I think we should add one or two small frogs, a few caterpillars, although Gideon is certain to point out that caterpillars are not always good for plants. Perhaps even a small bunny nibbling on a leaf?”

“I’ll discuss it with the baker when I meet with him tomorrow,” Phoebe said with a smile of satisfaction as she imagined Gideon’s reaction when he saw the cake. . The man would be livid because he would know she’d deliberately arranged for the insect to be added to the cake.

“Excellent. There was something else I needed to tell you. What was it?” Alva frowned in concentration before she smiled, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Ah yes, I forgot to mention I saw Constance at the milliner’s yesterday. She asked as to how the two of us were faring in each other’s company. I told her that she could ask you at dinner this evening.”

“Tonight?” Phoebe dragged air into her lungs that had suddenly stopped working as she met the woman’s gaze.

“Yes, tonight. I know Constance is looking forward to seeing you, and I invited Baron Tuttle and the Duke of Aveley to join us, so I have an even number of guests.”

“It’s hardly suitable—”

“Of course, it is. I also do not wish to have an odd number at the table,” Alva said as she waved her hand in dismissal of Phoebe’s objections. “I plan on seating you next to the Duke of Aveley. He’s a delightful man. He will make some lucky woman a good husband.”

“I’m certain he is, my lady, but it’s inappropriate.” Phoebe’s stomach lurched as she remembered Gideon accusing her of being a social climber. She had no doubt he would believe she’d convinced the marchioness to include her in the evening’s events.

“Balderdash, my dear.” Alva shook her head as she scolded Phoebe. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out. Although we’ve only known each other for a short time, I have become quite fond of you, my dear.”

“And I, you, my lady.” Phoebe sighed softly, determined not to become any more attached to the woman than she already was. “While I am grateful for being treated as an equal, others will not view me in the same light.”

“Why ever not?” Alva exclaimed in amazement. “You are a viscountess. If someone should treat you otherwise, they shall answer to me.”

Phoebe’s heart sank as she looked at the marchioness’s indignant expression. It was impossible to tell her employer of Gideon’s low opinion of her. Even if the woman believed her, Lady Wrotham loved her son dearly, and Phoebe could not imagine the disappointment the woman would feel. She bit down on her lip as she tried to think of something that would allow her to reject the invitation. Lady Wrotham reached out to touch Phoebe’s hand.

“I can almost see your mind spinning trying to find a way to refuse me, but I won’t let you,” Alva said firmly. “I’ll have your promise that you will join us for dinner this evening, Phoebe.”

In the face of Lady Wrotham’s determination, she realized it was hopeless to argue. As the marchioness arched her eyebrow expectantly, Phoebe sighed softly. She now understood where Gideon’s tenacious manner came from.