Page 34 of The Rogue’s Countess

Every time they were alone, Phoebe’s body betrayed her. The way she trembled when there was little space between them or how desire darkened her eyes every time he trailed his fingers across her skin in a light stroke. But her resistance had surprised him. For some reason, he’d thought she would succumb easily.

All the more surprising was the stinging regret he’d felt for treating her as if she were a toy for his amusement. When she’d accused him of making sport of her, the icy disdain on her features had not been reflected in her gaze. It was the pain and bitter disappointment in her eyes that had made him jerk away from her as if she’d poured hot water over his hand.

Gideon uttered a soft oath beneath his breath. What the devil did it matter whose bed Phoebe slid into? The answer that whispered through his head deepened his anger. If Aveley was taken in by her, the man deserved to be hoodwinked. The sound of his mother releasing a disgusted sigh made Gideon look in the marchioness’s direction.

“You disappoint me, Gideon. I thought you a better judge of character.” His mother’s statement made him stiffen as if that were possible, given the current state of his tight limbs already.

“I think Lady Helstone’s considerable charm has blinded you to her other less than attractive qualities,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

“You forget she was here for almost the entire month you were in Amsterdam,” his mother snapped. “I might not know all her secrets, but I know her quite well. You, on the other hand, have judged and sentenced Phoebe on a mere hour or two of acquaintance.”

“Since you profess to know several of her secrets, has she told you how Helstone was the best title she could secure with her father’s money?” Gideon growled as he narrowed his gaze at Lady Wrotham. His mother’s defense of Phoebe was proving to be well-crafted and quite exceptional. The realization only deepened his irritation.

“Really, Gideon, do you honestly believe a woman is free to reject a man her parents have selected for her?”

Gideon barely managed not to snarl that he’d considered that possibly thousands of times since that moment Phoebe had thrown herself into his arms in Montjoy’s garden. Instead, he tightened his lips to avoid explaining what had happened between him and Phoebe that night five years ago or how deeply the experience had affected him. In the days, weeks, and months after those incredible moments in the dark, the voices in the back of his head had insisted he was wrong about Phoebe.

Those same voices had urged him to go to her and hear the truth from her lips. But every time the idea pressed its way into his thoughts, Gideon had ruthlessly crushed it for fear she would make a fool of him all over again. Even now, those same voices were insisting he believe in her innocence. Aggravated by his inner voices, he gritted his teeth.

“While I concede that few, if any, women have a choice in whom they’re to marry, Lady Helstone is one of the American Dollar Princesses. It’s no secret that each one of them came to London for one thing only—a title in exchange for their exceedingly large dowries,” he ground out.

As Gideon met his mother’s gaze, his mouth twisted slightly in regret. The last time his mother had eyed him with such disappointment and dismay had been when he was a boy. Her condemnation now was no less pleasant today than it had been years ago.

“Phoebe is not one of those women. Her father wanted the prestige of saying his daughter had married nobility. In fact, Helstone was the worst possible choice for any woman,” the marchioness said with repugnance. “And God forgive me, but when the man’s mistress killed him, my first thought was that the world was better off without a man like him in it. At least I believed that until I learned the new viscount had callously tossed Phoebe out on the street with no funds or friends to call upon.”

Dumbfounded at the thought of Phoebe being thrown out of her home, Gideon stared at his mother in mute surprise. A moment later, his cynicism returned. He frowned with skepticism at the idea Phoebe had not had any income to live off of or someplace to seek safe harbor. Instantly, his conscience lambasted him for failing to remember how contemptuous the Marlborough Set had been of the Americans whose doweries had saved the great families in England.

The marchioness was slowly knocking aside every wall he’d put into place where Phoebe was concerned. She was slowly forcing him to consider the idea that Phoebe might not be who he thought she was. A fact he didn’t like because any change in his opinion had consequences where Phoebe was concerned. The thought made him resist the possibility that the woman had been completely without any options.

“Are you telling me the woman had nowhere to go? Why not return to America?” Gideon countered with growing frustration.

“Her father died almost five years ago, and she had no relatives to turn to,” the marchioness snapped angrily. “To my knowledge, her only true friend was Lord Linshal. But he fled to the continent when he was accused of being a sodomite. Even if Linshal had still been in England, I doubt Phoebe would have asked for his help. I think she would have been too proud to have done so.”

“Pride? She wasn’t too proud to accept your generous offer of employment,” Gideon scoffed. “No doubt she believed her social position would compel you to include her in any socials you hosted. An excellent opportunity to land another title.”

“Do not insult me by suggesting I am a fool, my lord,” Lady Wrotham said coldly as pain flashed across her features before her expression became stern and unforgiving. In less than a split second, a knot of regret formed in Gideon’s throat. His mother was far from a fool, but she was a generous and giving person who people often took advantage of. He shook his head sharply.

“My apologies, Mama. It was not my intent to suggest anything of the sort. I simply know what a kind heart you have and how people take advantage of you.”

“I am a grown woman, Gideon. I do not need your protection,” the marchioness said quietly as his apology made her expression soften. “Phoebe did not ask to be my personal secretary. In fact, Constance recommended her, and it took a great deal of persuasion on my part to convince Phoebe to accept the position.”

“No doubt a role she believed beneath her,” he bit out as his cynicism returned.

“Beneath her?” Anger was reflected on his mother’s face once more as she glared at him, and Gideon flinched at the scathing look she directed at him. “She was Madame Sabine’s bookkeeper at the time, and her living conditions were positively squalid, according to Constance.”

Immediately, Gideon’s muscles tightened with self-reproach as guilt crashed through him. He had no reason to doubt Constance or his mother, and he could only imagine what life must have been like for Phoebe before arriving at Chelmsford House. The pictures flooding his mind as he considered her state of existence were not pleasant ones. The images only bolstered the voices in the back of his head that declared loudly that Phoebe wasn’t a social climber.

“That you would be so quick to judge her is something I would never have expected of you, Gideon.” Quiet and firm, his mother’s voice held a deep note of disappointment, which made him flinch again. “She is not what you think her to be, Gideon. She is not Edith.”

“Edith has nothing to do with my opinion of Phoebe,” he lied.

Immediately, his mother uttered a small noise of disgust and anger before quickly rising from the table. He immediately rose to his feet as well and grimaced at the look of censure on his mother’s face. “Think long and hard about what I’ve said here, my lord. If necessary, I shall make arrangements for new living quarters. I will not have Phoebe leaving my employ because of you.”

Gideon remained silent in the face of his mother’s anger and stood rigid as the marchioness swept out of the breakfast room.

§ § §

Hours later, Gideon threw his newspaper down onto the side-table in a violent gesture of disgust. For the past hour, he’d been trying to focus on an editorial espousing numerous reasons for the passage of a bill being deliberated in Parliament. The light was low in the library, and a glance out the window revealed twilight had set in.