Page 67 of The Rogue’s Countess

Phoebe winced slightly as she reached for her glass to take a sip of wine. A quick glance in Gideon’s direction made her heart sink as she saw his expression. Dear God, he pitied her. A voice in her head gleefully pointed out the humiliation and pain she was feeling now would pale in comparison to what she would suffer if Gideon were to discover she loved him.

“Exactly what type of business was your father in?”

“He was a tailor and haberdasher of men’s clothing. At least he was until he discovered the gold mine. Everything changed from that point forward.”

From the moment her father had discovered the small gold mine on a piece of property he owned, he’d become fixated on having only the best for himself and for her. In truth, her father hadn’t even bought the property. He’d accepted the deed for the small parcel of land from one of his customers in exchange for payment of their debt. There had been numerous times when she’d hated that unsuspecting customer for giving her father that land deed.

“Changed how?”

“My father became obsessed with the idea of being a leader in society. He’d always admired the businessmen who’d made their fortunes from the sum of their labors. Father had wanted to be one of them.”

“And you became a part of that change?”

“Yes.” Phoebe nodded as sadness filtered its way through her. “No matter what he achieved, he needed to surpass it. When I was fourteen, he sent me to finishing school in Switzerland. While I was away at school, my father met Leonard Jerome, the father of Lady Randolph Churchill. I think it was then my father decided his daughter was going to marry a peer of the realm.”

Phoebe dropped her gaze to her plate, remembering the hellish existence she’d lived with Alfred. The price she’d paid had been far greater than the title of viscountess had been worth. Staring down at her food, she realized she’d suddenly lost her appetite. The warm touch of Gideon’s strong hand capturing hers made her jump slightly.

As their gazes locked, something undefinable flashed in his gray eyes as he carried her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. Flustered by the gesture, Phoebe didn’t move for a moment relishing the caress. It was as if he was saying he was sorry for everything she’d endured in the past.

Something about his gesture said he would make good on his promise to protect her. Gently pulling her hand free, she forced herself to take a bite of her meal. As if understanding she didn’t want to speak at the moment, Gideon remained silent and resumed eating.

The roast beef tasted like sawdust, and Phoebe released an inaudible sigh. Conversation seemed to be the only option open to her if she wanted to prevent Gideon from noticing she wasn’t eating. She’d learned that he was quick to notice the small things.

“Since you insist I must be exaggerating my ineptitude when it comes to horsemanship, what talent do you believe you lack finesse?”

“Hunting.” The immediate response took her aback as she eyed him with amused disbelief. With a wry twist of his mouth, Gideon shrugged. “My inability to shoot straight is a source of great amusement with my friends.”

“Surely your aim cannot be that terrible.”

“Unfortunately, it is. Sebastian finds it comical how bad my aim is, considering my exceptional ability to hit my mark when boxing. Percy always earns quite a tidy sum when making a wager with an unsuspecting gentleman as to what I might hit instead of the bird.”

“That’s unkind of him,” Phoebe said as she fought not to laugh at the idea of Percy Rockwood winning money on the basis of Gideon’s skill with a rifle. Gideon arched an eyebrow in reproof.

“You find that funny.” There was a distinct note of pique in his voice, and Phoebe laughed as she leaned forward to touch his arm.

“I will not lie. I do find it amusing.” She smiled teasingly at him. “But only because Lord Melton is right. I find it very humorous that your aim would be less than accurate with a rifle when I know your reputation as a pugilist borders on legendary.”

“I would not go that far,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle, but Phoebe could tell her compliment had pleased him.

“Still, you excel at the sport, albeit quite brutal from what I’ve heard.” The memory of Lady Wrotham’s description of Gideon’s boxing injuries the night they first met sent a shiver down her spine.

“It’s not for the faint of heart. I couldn’t hold my own against Gentleman Jim or John L. Sullivan in the ring even under the Marquess of Queensbury rules.” A flash of humiliation crossed his face, and she wondered if he was remembering his near-fatal fight in the East End. He shrugged as a wry smile twisted his firm lips. “But I am far superior in the ring than I am in a shooting party.”

“Then I take it house parties are not something you enjoy.” Phoebe laughed at his pained expression

“I cannot abide them. I enjoy riding to the hounds, but when my host organizes a shooting party, I do everything I can to avoid being included.”

“I would think the nightly entertainment would compensate you for whatever humiliation you might suffer in the field,” Phoebe said with amusement. As she met Gideon’s gaze, his face darkened, and she flinched. With a shake of her head, she reached out to touch his hand. “I was merely teasing you, Gideon. You cannot deny your reputation for charming the ladies.”

“I would be a hypocrite to deny that I’m worthy of the nickname Currer has given me in his satire.” Gideon grimaced before he began slicing into his beef and shook his head slightly.“ But it is one thing to admit one’s fallacies to one’s self and another matter altogether for someone else to point out I am not the most honorable of men.”

There was a note of pained regret in his voice that made Phoebe’s heart sink. Was he thinking about the reason for their marrying earlier today? She stared down at her plate for a moment before she raised her head to eye him steadily.

“You are the most honorable man I know, Gideon. This morning your actions proved that fact. You married me, believing it was the right thing to do. I only hope you do not live to regret it.” Her statement made him jerk his head up to meet her gaze.

“I have many regrets, Phoebe, but making you the Countess of Chelmsford is not one of them.”

The emphatic note in his voice matched the intensity of his expression as he met her gaze unflinchingly. Uncertain how to respond, Phoebe nodded and picked up her fork to prod the meat on her plate. She took another small bite of the entrée and swallowed as quickly as she could.