Page 53 of The Rogue’s Countess

“There’s no need to cry, Miss Currer. The new chapter has been exchanged for the old one. Lord Chelmsford will be portrayed far more gently now than in the original.”

Phoebe grew still at the man’s reference to Gideon. She lifted her veil slightly to slide her fingertips beneath the netting to wipe off her damp cheeks.

“Why would you think Lord Chelmbee is the earl or that he is the reason for my concern?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“A great number of your characters are easily recognizable if not by their name, then by their actions,” the editor replied in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone. “Your distress told me the innocent party you referenced had to be someone of prominence in the chapter. It was not difficult to assume his lordship was the innocent party as the main focus of the piece was him.”

Phoebe’s breathing hitched at the man’s words, and she frantically tried to devise an explanation as to why she’d made Gideon the focus of the chapter.

“Then you would be correct in assuming that Lord Chelmsford was the character involved in the matter, but I did not do this to spare the earl any discomfort,” Phoebe lied. “A dear friend of mine would be most certainly be hurt if this piece had been made public. I did not wish to cause her any pain.”

“Then, I’m happy we were able to switch out the chapter.” The editor patted her on the shoulder again. As he circled his desk, Phoebe came to a quick decision and leaned forward in her chair.

“Mr. Meade, I will be leaving London sometime in the next two weeks. I’m uncertain when I shall return, and regrettably, P. Currer must meet an untimely death. Naturally, this means the Currer Chronicles will also cease to exist. I shall have the last chapter for you sometime in the next week. ”

Thunderstruck, the editor haphazardly plopped his short, stubby body into the wooden swivel chair. Dismay furrowed his brow as he straightened in his seat and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk, his hands clasped in front of him.

“No,” the man objected with strong disappointment. “You cannot possibly do this, Miss Currer. Think of your audience. Every time we run one of your serial installments, our sales almost double. Your readers have been clamoring for more. I’m certain we could work around your schedule.”

“Unfortunately, gossip is fodder for my storyline, and if I’m not here, it’s impossible to continue with the serial. It cannot be helped,” Phoebe said as she shook her head.

The editor slid his hands across the top of his bald head before they settled on the back of his neck, and he stared at her with a look of helplessness. Frustration crossed his features.

“I should have made you sign a contract for a specific number of installments.”

“But you didn’t,” she murmured with relief. “As I recall, you didn’t even think the serial would be popular.”

“I was wrong,” Meade sighed. With a shake of his head, he peered at her as if he could see through her veil. “If you insist on ending the Chronicles, I must ask that you provide me with three more chapters so we may prepare our readers for the end of the Chronicles.”

“Oh, but—”

“I must insist, Miss Currer,” the editor interrupted with a firm shake of his head. “It is the courteous thing to do. I took a chance on you, and I must now ask that you give me time to prepare our readers.”

Phoebe shook her head in objection as she tried to refuse the man, but she knew he was right. The editor had taken a chance on her serial, and the extra income had meant she could buy a small home in the country. While Phoebe had no need of the cottage now, it was impossible to forget how grateful she’d been for the Chronicles’ success. With a slow nod, she released a sigh.

“Very well, I shall have the last three chapters to you sometime in the next week, if not sooner.”

“Thank you,” the man said quietly. “I appreciate you agreeing to my request.”

“I have enjoyed working with you, Mr. Meade, and I regret that I am unable to continue the Chronicles.” To her surprise, Phoebe realized it was true. She had enjoyed writing the serial, but it would be foolish and dangerous to continue.

“I regret it as well, the editor said as he stood up when Phoebe rose from her chair.

“You have been very kind, Mr. Meade,” she said quietly. “I am grateful for your enthusiasm for the Chronicles.”

“Of course.” The editor quickly moved around the desk to shake her hand. “Thank you again, Miss Currer. Your work will be missed by a great many people, including me.”

With a nod, Phoebe walked out of the editorial office and made her way through the building to the street. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she stared around her. Her relief at having managed to avert disaster had been replaced by a new worry.

She needed to write three chapters without Gideon discovering her identity as the author of the Chronicles. The charity ball was in just a few days, and she had no idea how quickly Gideon would wish to leave for the wedding trip he’d proposed. How had life suddenly become so complicated, all because of an indiscretion? The thought made her wish that Mr. Currer was already dead.

The sight of a hansom cab drawing near made her lift her hand and waved to the driver. She had one more task today, and she was certain Constance’s curiosity would need to be satisfied before she could return home.

§ § §

“Married,” Constance exclaimed with a stunned expression on her face.

“Yes,“ Phoebe said quietly. “I was hoping you would do me the kindness of being my witness.”