Page 61 of The Rogue’s Countess

His words made her cheeks grow hot, but it was the sincerity in his voice that alarmed Phoebe. If the man decided to use his renowned charm on her, it would be impossible to hide her feelings. The barrier that shielded her heart from him was far too weak to protect her if she didn’t take care.

“While I think you might need glasses, I thank you for the compliment.” She forced a smile to her lips as she pulled her hand free of his and stepped back. “I must go see Lady Wrotham. There are still a few final arrangements to make for the ball Saturday night.”

“I’ll see you at dinner then.”

It was more an edict than a question, and Phoebe simply nodded. The thought of dining alone with Gideon was more than she was capable of at the moment. The emotional strain of the day had depleted what little energy Phoebe had after a sleepless night. The past few moments were enough for her to know she had nothing in reserve to withstand any intimate time in his company. She would look in on the dowager marchioness and then retire for the night.

§ § §

Phoebe winced as Madame Sabine accidentally stabbed her with a straight pin. Immediately, the modiste apologized, but Phoebe reassured her it was nothing. From her seat in a comfortable chair near the window, Lady Wrotham pointed to a bolt of material that Sabine’s assistant showed her. The assistant made a note on a small notepad she carried, while the marchioness looked at Phoebe with a smile of satisfaction.

“On Sunday morning, the Set will be talking about the new Countess of Chelmsford and vying for her attention with their invitations and calling cards.” At the woman’s elation, Phoebe shook her head.

“Invitations I have no wish to accept.”

“There are some you will need to accept, dearest,” the dowager marchioness chided gently. “As Gideon’s wife, there are some people you cannot ignore.”

Phoebe closed her eyes as she waited on Madame Sabine to finish pinning the gown the woman had thrown over Phoebe’s head a few moments ago. For the past four hours, the seamstress had taken measurements for day dresses, evening gowns, and accessories as part of the trousseau the marchioness had insisted Phoebe needed.

After leaving Gideon in the study yesterday evening, Phoebe had gone to look in on the dowager marchioness. The older woman had greeted her enthusiastically and declared that Sabine was coming to fit Phoebe for a trousseau and wedding dress. Phoebe had protested that a full wardrobe was unnecessary, but the marchioness had pleaded that she wanted the trousseau to be a special wedding gift just for Phoebe.

Phoebe had reluctantly agreed, which was why she’d been standing in front of the dressmaker for longer than she wanted. Her gaze focused on Lady Wrotham, who was examining a pair of gloves Sabine’s assistant was showing the marchioness. The excitement and happiness radiating off of her future mother-in-law were almost tangible sensations. For the last several hours, the woman had directed the small scene in front of her from a nearby chair. Every time Phoebe tried to override the older woman’s demand for another gown, Lady Wrotham dismissed her protests with a wave of her hand.

“Sabine, you are certain the dress for tomorrow morning will be ready in time?” Lady Wrotham’s voice echoed with concern, and the dressmaker nodded her head without stopping her work.

“It will be delivered first thing in the morning, my lady,” the dressmaker said with deference. “The evening gown you order for Lady Helstone will be ready tomorrow as well.”

“What gown?” Phoebe asked in surprise as she looked at the dressmaker, who quickly averted her gaze. Phoebe immediately turned her head to look at the marchioness. The woman felt the texture of the material on a bolt the dressmaker’s assistant had undone for her, forcing Phoebe to repeat her question. “What gown?”

“For the charity ball, Saturday night.” Lady Wrotham looked at her as if Phoebe knew all about the gown.

“I didn’t order a gown.”

“I did,” the dowager said with a happy smile as Sabine’s assistant offered up another bolt of material for the marchioness’s examination. “I placed the order two weeks ago. I wanted to surprise you with a new gown for the gala.”

“Two weeks—”

“Oh, and Sabine, she’ll need at least three traveling dresses.”

“Three,” Phoebe exclaimed with a shake of her head. “My la—”

“Phoebe,” the dowager interrupted her in a chastising manner as she directed a stern look in her direction. Phoebe sighed quietly.

“Mama, I do not need three traveling dresses.”

“Why must you insist on refusing me a little bit of fun, dearest?” The marchioness shook her head and eyed Phoebe with affectionate exasperation. “I’ve not enjoyed myself so much since Alice was to be married.”

“Very well.” Phoebe drew in a deep breath and exhaled it in defeat.

“Really, Phoebe, I am having fun. If Alice were here, she would tell you it’s true.” Lady Wrotham released a sigh of disappointment. “I do wish she and Duncan could be here tomorrow, but they will meet you this fall when they come to visit.”

As Sabine continued to pin different parts of the dress Phoebe wore, the door to the marchioness’s room opened. She glanced over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Polly. It was one of the other maids who hurried to the dowager’s side. The young girl handed Lady Wrotham a note, then stepped back to wait. The marchioness quickly read the note before her head jerked up to eye Phoebe in dismay as she waved the paper in the air.

“Gideon says you didn’t eat dinner last night, and he suspects you didn’t eat this morning either. Is this true?”

“I was exhausted last night and wasn’t hungry.”

“And breakfast?”