Page 42 of The Rogue’s Countess

“No, I said I thought her intentions were less than noble. Your words this morning made me change my mind.”

“Do you mean to tell me that in a matter of hours, you’ve changed your mind about Phoebe simply based on my opinion?” the dowager marchioness scoffed.

“Yes…no.”

“Which is it, Gideon? It’s a simple yes or no answer.”

“I would think you would be happy that I’ve finally decided to marry,” he growled, deliberately ignoring her question. “You’ve hounded me long enough to find a wife and start a family. Now you seem to object to my marrying at all.”

“Then explain to me why you chose Phoebe?”

“Are you saying you disapprove?”

“Of course not,” his mother exclaimed sharply. “I love Phoebe. She’s become very dear to me.”

“Then what is it you object to?” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“I’m not objecting at all. I’m simply flabbergasted that you would ask someone you don’t like to be your wife.”

“I never said I didn’t like her,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

“Well, considering your attitude this morning, I would have wagered a large sum to the contrary,” his mother said as she narrowed her gaze at him. “Why do I think there’s more to this sudden about-face where Phoebe’s concerned.”

Desperately, Gideon struggled to offer an explanation that would appease his mother and end her interrogation. Phoebe had been terrified his mother would learn what had happened from Polly. If he could spare her any further humiliation, he would. Still struggling to come up with a rational explanation for his decision, Gideon’s heart sank as his mother’s face darkened with suspicion and anger.

“What have you done, Gideon?”

The sharp question grated on him as if someone had sliced him open. As he struggled to find the right words to explain things, his brain ran into a wall in every direction. For the first time in his life, Gideon was afraid of his mother’s reaction. He’d seen her disappointment in him this morning, and he was certain it would be even greater now.

“Tell me now, Gideon. What have you done?” she snapped in a voice that demanded he answer her with the truth and nothing else. He drew in a deep breath. God help him. He could only pray Phoebe would forgive him for this betrayal. Gideon drew in a deep breath, then released it as he met his mother’s gaze.

I compromised her,” he said quietly. The dowager paled as she stared at him in shock.

“You did what?” she whispered.

The note of disbelief in her voice was all the more painful for the condemnation he heard there as well. If she had shouted at him, it would have been less excoriating. At the moment, it was as if someone had doused him in acid. He didn’t know which was the most painful, that he’d disappointed his mother or the injury he’d done to Phoebe for a second time within an hour.

“I believe you heard me correctly,” he snarled as he stood up and began to pace the floor, no longer able to meet her gaze for the contempt he saw in her eyes.

His mother’s judgment of him increased the heavy weight of his guilty conscience. He fully deserved her condemnation, but admitting it did little to ease the pain he was suffering for giving her, or Phoebe, the opportunity to judge him and finding him lacking.

“I know I did. I am simply trying to comprehend how my son could do such a thing.” Icicles could not have been as cold as the dowager’s voice.

The anger, shocked dismay, and deep disappointment in his mother’s voice made her every word as vicious a blow as ones he taken in the ring the night he and Phoebe had met. Gideon’s gaze met the marchioness’s gaze and flinched at the contempt he saw on her face.

“It was not intentional,” he said quietly as he struggled not to sound defensive.

As he prowled the floor, he remembered Phoebe’s willingness to surrender to his touch, but he was the one who should have shown restraint. He should have had more respect for her tonight and five years ago. He’d failed on both occasions, and he had no excuse to fall back on. Nothing except he’d allowed his body to control his actions and not his head.

It was why he bore the lion’s share of blame and responsibility for what had happened this evening. Gideon doubted he would ever be able to forgive himself for being the cause of Phoebe’s humiliation. As difficult as it was to admit, he truly deserved the name P. Currer had given him in the author’s satirical work.

Never in his life had his actions been so dishonorable. There was no excuse he could offer that would absolve him of his actions. The realization made his mother’s obvious contempt for him all the more painful. That his mother would be ashamed of him was something he would never have thought possible until tonight. Unable to face Lady Wrotham, he continued to pace the floor.

“She’s refused to marry me,” Gideon bit out with self-loathing. In the back of his mind, a voice reminded him that he hadn’t really asked. He’d simply come up with a solution that would protect her reputation.

“Can you blame her?” Lady Wrotham sneered.

Gideon’s muscles grew taut as he came to a halt and forced himself to face his mother. The contempt in the dowager marchioness’s voice was reflected in her expression. He flinched, then shook his head as he remembered the horrified look on Phoebe’s face when he’d said they would marry.