Page 66 of The Rogue’s Countess

Phoebe looked at Gideon, who was studying the butler with a small frown. With a sharp jerk of his head in the butler’s direction, Gideon glanced at Phoebe then nodded.

“I take it dinner is ready?”

“It is, my lord,” Pendleton said with a slight bow. Gideon nodded, then turned to Phoebe and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Trepidation swept through Phoebe as she met her new husband’s gaze. Dear God, what could the two of them possibly discuss during their meal without the marchioness on hand to stimulate conversation? When she didn’t move, Gideon arched his eyebrow. There was a sardonic expression on his face, but something flashed in his gaze, which made her swallowed hard. Her heartbeat accelerating, Phoebe accepted his arm once more and allowed him to lead her into the dining room. As she released her hand from his arm, she moved to take her seat opposite him at the end of the table. Gideon’s strong hand held her back.

“Come sit next to me. I prefer not to shout down the length of the table.”

It was a request, but there was no mistaking the command underlying the quiet words that Phoebe instinctively knew better than to protest. With a nod, she allowed Gideon to guide her to the chair at his left. Without even a hint of surprise, one of the footmen hurried forward to move Phoebe’s place setting to the seat Gideon had led her to. When their glasses were filled with wine, Gideon lifted his goblet toward her.

“To the beautiful new Countess of Chelmsford.”

The quiet words rang with a sincerity that made Phoebe’s cheek grow hot as she murmured a word of gratitude and took a sip of her own wine. Silence drifted between them as they began their meal. The consommé was a warm beef broth, which was followed by Vol au vents. The savory pastries were filled with mincemeat and served warm. As Phoebe took a small bite of her pastry, Gideon cleared his throat.

“Plans for our wedding trip are almost complete, and I thought we might leave at the end of next week.”

Phoebe barely managed to suppress her gasp of horror. That left her only three days, four at the most, to write the last three chapters of the Chronicles. She would need to visit Constance tomorrow afternoon and write at least one chapter and start on the second. Friday and Saturday would be filled with last-minute things to do for the gala on Saturday night.

Sunday, it would be impossible to visit Constance, and Monday was her scheduled visit to Madame Sabine’s. No doubt the marchioness would keep her there most of the day, particularly when she learned Phoebe and Gideon would be leaving at the end of the week. As she tried to calculate the available days she had to finish the Chronicles, Gideon frowned, and his mouth thinned with obvious irritation.

“If you prefer, I can do away with all the plans for the trip.” Startled by his abrupt words, Phoebe jerked her gaze toward him.

“I’m sorry, I was simply calculating all the things I needed to do before we leave. There’s the gala on Saturday, and Mama has arranged for the two of us to visit Madame Sabine on Monday for fittings.”

“I see,” Gideon’s expression swiftly changed from annoyance to one of amusement. “I would not wish to prevent you from having enough dresses before we leave.”

“Mama is insisting on far too many.” At her sigh of disgust, Gideon laughed.

“I believe Alice expressed a similar exasperation at all the fittings when she and Mama were in the midst of acquiring her wedding trousseau.”

“She’s unrelenting.” Phoebe smiled and arched her eyebrows in amused disgust. “But her enthusiasm shows exactly how much pleasure she’s deriving from selecting the fabrics, patterns, and all the accessories.”

“Mama has always enjoyed her visits to the dressmaker’s.”

“At the rate with which she’s insisting I need this or that gown, I will have a wardrobe filled with far too many dresses. I’ll not be able to pull one from the chifforobe without six more falling out behind it.”

“I think you are the first woman I have ever met who has shown a tendency not to be preoccupied with fashion.” Gideon laughed. “However, I hope you’re planning on acquiring one or two riding habits.”

“If I recall correctly, Mama insisted on two. I was appalled when she insisted I have three travel gowns.”

“Then I’ll arrange for us to go riding while we are in Tuscany.”

“You might regret that. My skills at horseback riding are sadly lacking, and you’re quite apt to find me lagging behind you or chasing me when the animal I’m riding runs wild.”

“Something tells me you’re far more proficient than you give yourself credit for.”

“No,” Phoebe said with a laugh. “I truly am a poor horsewoman.”

“Then I’ll help you improve your skills.”

“And I thought I was the optimist,” Phoebe said wryly. “However, if you insist, I will be an attentive pupil. Although, I have given you fair warning as to my hopelessness.”

Gideon chuckled softly as one of the footmen held a platter of roast beef and potatoes in front of him. Using the serving spoon and fork, he placed the meat and vegetables on his plate.

“Even if you’re correct in the assessment of your riding skills, you clearly have a head for figures. Mama has mentioned several times that you’ve made life much easier to bear when it comes to the gala.”

“I’ve always had a talent for bookkeeping. I used to maintain the household accounts long before father became so obsessed…so obsessed with things.”