Page 74 of The Rogue’s Countess

“Did your father not make accommodations for you in the event of Helstone’s death?” Disapproval and anger filled his voice, and it warmed her heart that he cared enough to be outraged on her behalf.

“No. My father wasn’t the best businessman, despite his desire to be one.”

“Was there no one you could turn to?” His voice sounded strained as he asked the question, but she put it down to his being angry for her misfortune.

“My father died two years before you and I met in Montjoy’s garden. I had very few friends, and certainly none I felt comfortable calling upon for help. I remembered from my last dress fitting that Madame Sabine had mentioned she was in need of a bookkeeper. The rest you know.”

As her voice died away, Gideon remained silent, but his body had become rigid with tension as she’d shared her past with him. Phoebe turned her head to look at Gideon. Eyes closed, his stony expression reminded her of a statue. As if sensing her gaze on him, Gideon’s eyes met hers. Something flickered in the gray depths, but she couldn’t make a determination as to what he was thinking.

“Do you have any idea what a remarkable woman you are, Phoebe?” Gideon brushed the back of his hand across her cheek as he studied her. “You have more strength and courage than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“You make me sound like a saint, and I am far from it,” she protested fiercely.

Guilt curled through Phoebe as she quickly rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling to avoid his gaze. If he knew she was the author of the Chronicles, he would call her the devil incarnate. She wished to God she’d never submitted the serial to the Times. As if aware of her heightened emotions, Gideon caught her hand and carried it to his lips.

“No. You’re a survivor, and I greatly admire that about you.”

The sincerity in his voice and gaze made Phoebe accept his compliment with a small bob of her head. Silence fell between them, but it was a comfortable one, and Gideon still held her hand. After a moment, his quiet laugh was a gentle breeze across the top of her head as he leaned into her.

“As for sainthood, need I remind you that you’re married to the Earl of Chelmsford? A man who’s not yet finished indulging himself in his countess’s delectable charms. Indulgences that will be far too wicked for his wife to ever have any hope of earning such a lofty title. ”

“Far be it from me to dispute an earl, who happens to be a rogue.” Phoebe’s laughed as her arm curled around Gideon’s neck to pull him down into her. “And I prefer wicked rogues to sainthood any day of the week.”

A sinful chuckle fell past Gideon’s lips as he nipped at Phoebe’s mouth before he kissed her. Sighing softly at the caress, Phoebe pushed aside all her fear and dark secrets. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to be afraid. Tonight she only wanted to feel alive in the arms of the man she adored.

Chapter 20

Gideon swirled the brandy in his snifter with a gentle movement of his hand. A small smile twisted his lips as he studied the liquor in the glass. It was an excellent brandy, but it possessed none of the fire that his countess did. He took a sip of the cognac as he contemplated the recent changes in his life.

For the past three days, he’d awoken to the sweet scent of roses. Waking up to see Phoebe’s lovely head on the pillow next to his every morning was proving to be an unexpected pleasure. He’d taken to watching his wife while she slept. She had a delightful way of nibbling on her bottom lip while sleeping. It always created the urge for Gideon to soothe the bruised flesh.

Yesterday afternoon, he’d seen Sebastian at the Club, and his friend had cheerfully commented on the fact that it appeared married life suited him. As he reflected on his friend’s comment, Gideon had to agree with him. He was happier now than he’d ever been in his life. If this was what loving a woman was like, he could highly recommend it. Instantly Gideon froze. He was in love with Phoebe.

Stunned, Gideon stared down at his brandy as he tried to fully comprehend the fact that he was in love with his wife. When had he fallen in love with her? Although the past three days had given them time to learn more about each other, they still didn’t know each other as well as most married couples. A voice in the back of Gideon’s head snorted with mocking laughter. He’d been in love with Phoebe for the past five years.

The night they’d met in Montjoy’s garden, Gideon had known something significant had passed between them. While his head hadn’t understood it, his heart had. But when he’d discovered who Phoebe was, his head had overruled his instincts. He’d judged her unfairly and ignored the truth. Deep down, he’d always known the reason why he’d been willing to have someone nearly beat him to death that same night.

Worse, he’d not gone to her when she’d needed him the most. Gideon’s muscles tightened as he remembered Phoebe telling him how she’d been tossed out onto the street after Helstone had been killed. Never in his entire life had he ever experienced such a pang of deep guilt. The memory of her reluctance to speak of the past emphasized how terrible things must have been for her. A polite cough behind him made Gideon turn around. Pendleton stood in the doorway of the parlor with a look of discomfort on his face. It was rare that the butler ever look rattled, and Gideon eyed the man with puzzlement. His expression troubled, the man walked toward him.

“Forgive me, my lord. A note just arrived. It is addressed to Lady Chelmsford, but …the staff is quite fond of her ladyship and would not like to see her hurt in any way. I recognized the seal straight away, and as I am familiar with the letter writer in question, I thought it best to give it to you.”

Gideon frowned as the butler extended his hand to offer Gideon a small notecard. As he took the card from Pendleton, the heavy smell of an exotic perfume drifted up to his nostrils. Turning the card over, Gideon went rigid as he saw the Duchess of Stockdale’s waxed seal. Edith.

“Thank you, Pendleton. You did the right thing bringing this me,” Gideon said as he met the man’s troubled gaze. “Give me a moment.”

The servant nodded as Gideon turned away and broke the seal of the missive. God help him if Phoebe ever discovered he’d intercepted and opened a note addressed to her. However, a note from Edith was a different matter altogether. A few months after she married the duke, the woman had audaciously proposed they become lovers. Gideon had coldly rejected her offering, and in doing so, he’d made an enemy. Over the years, Edith had proven spiteful when it came to his liaisons, and he was certain the woman was attempting to drive a wedge between him and Phoebe.

My dear Lady Chelmsford,

Allow me to offer you best wishes on the occasion of your recent marriage. Gideon and I are old friends, and our intimate relationship prompted me to write to you. If you are available, I would like to call on you Monday morning. Then again, perhaps we will meet this evening at the gala for St. Catherine’s Home for the Poor.”

Yours respectfully,

Edith Bailor, Duchess of Stockdale

“God damn the woman. I’ll see her in hell first,” he muttered as he spun around on his heel. “Pendleton, come with me.”

Quickly striding out of the salon, he crossed the foyer into his study. At his desk, he pulled out a piece of stationary and picked up a pen. The writing instrument hovered over the parchment for a moment before he began to write.