Page 48 of The Rogue’s Countess

The memory of what had happened afterward made Gideon stab harder at the soil he was working with. The short-lived moment of release, satisfaction, and the unexpected sensation of contentment had been brutally snatched away from him by Phoebe’s belief she was simply another conquest.

He’d not even had a chance to correct her impression before his mother’s maid had stumbled upon their intimate moment. Gideon muttered an oath as he angrily dumped more soil into the flat wood tray. The small spade in his hand savagely turned over one clump of loam after another in the box.

When Polly had entered the library, it had been as if the world had slapped him hard. As if it would alleviate his guilt, Gideon’s small spade sliced through the soil like a hoe viciously hacking away at weeds. The fury of his motions did nothing to ease his remorse. He wasn’t sure anything ever would. Not only had he been the cause of Phoebe’s humiliation. She’d actually believed she was just one more flower for him to pluck.

Phoebe wasn’t a conquest by any definition of the word. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He just knew she was different than all the other women he’d known. The opportunity to convince her of that fact had been lost the moment Polly had stumbled upon them. Phoebe believed last night was entirely her fault. She was wrong. The blame for her humiliation rested solely on his shoulders.

It didn’t matter how passionately she’d responded to his touch. He was the reason for her humiliation and pain. And she had been in pain. That much had been vividly apparent to Gideon. The vulnerability on her face had been gut-wrenchingly painful to see, knowing he was to be the cause of it.

When he’d proposed they marry, Gideon had been stunned by his impulsive offer. Not because he’d made the offer, but because he’d not thought twice about doing so. Other than proposing marriage in name only to his friend, Ophelia, Gideon had never asked another woman to be his wife. Although he’d come close to asking Edith, he’d been saved from making a fool of himself by her betrothal announcement to Stockdale.

Ophelia had been a different matter altogether. Gideon had considered all the pros and cons of a platonic marriage. He knew neither of them had been in love with each other, but he also knew companionship as one grew older was preferable to growing old alone.

Deep down, he’d known Ophelia would refuse him, which had made it easy to make his offer. Gideon had instinctively known Ophelia would never marry anyone unless it was Mathias. If he’d thought differently, he knew he would never have suggested the idea to his friend. It had been a wise decision on his friend’s part to reject him, given Ophelia and Mathias had reconciled and were now happily married.

His thoughts returned to the moment when he’d proposed to Phoebe for a second time. Frowning, he recalled her hesitation for a few seconds as she’d stared at him in confusion. For a moment, he’d been certain Phoebe was on the verge of saying yes, and he’d silently urged her to accept. In the next instant, she’d gasped and recoiled from him in obvious horror.

Not only had she vehemently refused his proposal, but she’d also assumed all responsibility for what had happened. When she’d darted from the room, it was as if he were standing on the garden path at Montjoy’s again, watching her vanish into the night. Last night, just as he had five years ago, he’d felt powerless and frustrated.

More than an hour ago, Pendleton had informed him of his mother’s wish to return to her room. Phoebe had been nowhere in sight when he’d walked into her room, but her open, half-filled trunk was still where it had been the first time he’d entered her room this morning. The sight of it had sent relief crashing through Gideon with an intensity he still found surprising.

He’d dismissed his reaction as a part of the guilt he’d been feeling since the moment Phoebe had fled the library last night. As Gideon had carried his mother back to her room, neither of them had said anything. He’d wanted to ask if she’d been able to convince Phoebe to consider his proposal, but he’d remained silent. Gideon knew his mother was still angry with him, but less so than he was with himself.

With a twist of his lips, he returned his attention to mixing the soil for the flower beds that had gone untended while he was in Holland. He’d added the small orangery to the house several years ago, and it was one of his favorite places in the house. Normally working in the arboretum relaxed him. Today it had done little to ease his dark mood. Determined to focus on what he was doing, Gideon turned his attention back to the soil he’d placed in a shallow, wood box.

A long while later, Gideon was kneeling in front of one of the flower beds with the flat box of soil on the walkway beside him. Still angry at his behavior, Gideon struggled to take care as he spread out the soil around the base of several small rose bushes he was cultivating for transfer to Lethbridge Farms.

Suddenly aware of shadows drifting across his hand. Gideon frowned. Lifting his head, he looked out the arboretums tall glass windows and saw the sunshine had vanished behind dark clouds. A scattering of several raindrops splattered the orangery’s glass roof then stopped. The plants were in need of water, and if he opened the windows on the glass roof, the rain would water the plants. It would save him and Jimmy, the cook’s son, from watering everything by hand. It was also close to lunch, and he was hungry.

Quickly spreading the last of the soil in the flower bed, he was patting the dirt down when quiet footsteps echoed behind him. Gideon didn’t bother to look over his shoulder as he was accustomed to Pendleton coming to remind him when lunch or dinner would be served.

“I’ll be along shortly, Pendleton. I just need to open the roof windows.”

“I’m not Pendleton.”

Phoebe’s quiet words whispered across his back and into his ears. Gideon went rigid for a moment before he looked over his shoulder. Her features were composed, but her face was pale compared to her normal color. Slowly rising to his feet, he turned to face her. As their eyes met, a flush of color filled her cheeks until her wan appearance vanished. The fire she’d exhibited last night in his arms was gone, and he gritted his teeth at how his actions had extinguished her spirit.

“Your mother asked that I bring her some flowers.”

“Did she ask for any specific kind?” Gideon asked.

She answered his question with a simple shake of her head. With a nod of understanding, Gideon resisted the urge to ask her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve her charity after what he’d done. Deliberately, he also refrained from asking her if she’d changed her mind about his proposal. Gideon wasn’t ready to hear her answer yet.

The thought of her refusing him made him realize how afraid he was that Phoebe might have come to reject his offer again. A knot formed in Gideon’s stomach at the possibility, and he didn’t want to contemplate why the thought of her refusing to marry him troubled him so much. Aware he’d not moved, he cleared his throat.

“Her favorites are hyacinths,” he said gruffly.

Gideon turned and picked up a nearby flower basket he kept in the orangery along with a pair of clippers. As he handed Phoebe the basket, he tipped his head in a silent gesture for her to follow him. The bed of hyacinths and lilies he maintained for his mother was just around the bend of the pathway that wandered through the solarium. Although the extension had reduced the gardens’ size, the path winding its way through the arboretum was a pleasant walk that allowed one to enter the gardens or circle back to the doorway that led into the house.

In the wintertime, it allowed one to enjoy the outdoors despite the cold temperatures and snow-covered grounds outside. It was larger than most solariums in the city, and not even the Duke of Aveley’s was as large. The thought of the duke made Gideon clench his jaw. The man had called on Phoebe daily since the night after the dinner party his mother had hosted.

Although Phoebe hadn’t attended any social events with the man, Aveley’s persistent visits had become quite lengthy. So much so that on more than one occasion, Gideon had thought of interrupting their tête-à-tête with some excuse, but he hadn’t. Worse, the gossip Gideon had overheard yesterday morning at his club had been disheartening. Tongues had been set wagging as Aveley had apparently hinted he was seriously considering marriage.

The gossip had put Gideon in a foul mood at the thought of another man taking Phoebe as a wife. It had aroused an unfamiliar, possessive emotion inside Gideon. The knot in his stomach twisted painfully at the possibility Aveley might have gained Phoebe’s affections. Gideon scowled with displeasure as he came to a halt in front of the flower bed he used for growing his mother’s favorite flowers. Moving quickly, he proceeded to cut the stems of several flowers he knew would last several days.

As he placed a handful of the blooms in the basket Phoebe held, he met her gaze for a brief moment. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking, and his lips tightened with frustration as he returned his attention to cutting flowers. When Gideon had cut a sufficient number of blooms for a vase arrangement, he dropped the last of the flowers into Phoebe’s basket. Without a word, he stepped around her and headed back toward his workbench.

Gideon tossed the clippers into the box of tools he used regularly. Removing the work apron he’d been wearing over his clothes, he flung it to one side. He pulled his gardening gloves off his hands with equal savagery and threw them onto the flat work-space. For some reason, he’d expected Phoebe to leave the arboretum, but she had remained.