Page 91 of The Rogue’s Countess

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Gideon. I’m not even asking you to try. I know how difficult forgiveness is. I simply wanted you to know that I realized my mistake in time and that I am glad—grateful I was able to save you any humiliation. I would never have forgiven myself if I’d failed. I truly am sorry.”

Gideon jerked with surprise, and his gaze narrowed to study her closely. Phoebe didn’t flinch beneath his gaze. When it became obvious she’d failed to reach him, she quickly turned away as her vision began to blur. Phoebe’s hand fumbled to grasp the doorknob, and when she found it, she tugged the library door open to dart through it.

Phoebe closed the door behind her, and the sharp thud it made as the door clicked shut made her jump. A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away only to have another one wet her skin.

“Phoebe, dearest. Are you all right?” At the sound of her mother-in-law’s voice, Phoebe quickly wiped another tear away and kept her head bent.

“I just have something in my eye, Mama. Forgive me. I need to change.”

Without waiting for her mother-in-law to speak again, Phoebe hurried toward the stairs and ran upward as fast as she could. All she wanted was to reach the privacy of her room. The tears Phoebe had been holding back began to stream down her cheeks. No one was in the hall to witness Phoebe’s sorrow and pain, for which she was grateful. Throwing herself through the door of her bedroom, Phoebe closed it behind her. Blinded by her tears, she stumbled to the bed where she curled up in a small ball to sob quietly at what she’d lost. Now she would live in a purgatory of her own making.

Chapter 23

With a snarl of fury, Gideon’s hand swept across his desk in a wide arc and sent several ledgers and a paperweight flying off the desk and into the wall with a loud crash. What the fuck was wrong with him? He should have let her go. What kind of man would insist she stay?

A desperate one.

Not once since he’d discovered that savagely written chapter had Gideon even considered the possibility she would leave him. In truth, Gideon knew he should not have been surprised by Phoebe’s declaration, but he had. Stunned and desperate not to lose her, Gideon had blindly grasped at anything he could think of to keep her with him.

“Fuck.”

Gideon’s hand struck out again and sent a small stack of books flying off the corner of his desk. He was a fool. What had he hoped to achieve by trapping her for a second time in a marriage she didn’t want? Had he really thought she might come to care for him if he kept her with him? Gideon snorted with disgust before a dark groan rumbled out of his chest. His biggest mistake had been his failure to realize what it would cost him not to let her go.

That point had been driven home only moments ago. It had taken every ounce of willpower Gideon had possessed not to carry Phoebe upstairs and make love to her when she’d responded to him as she had. She might despise him, but her body responded to him like a violin did to the bow a master wielded. But if he had given in to his desire, he would have condemned himself for certain. Gideon had no doubt that in a blind moment of passion, he would have confessed his soul to her.

Hands braced on the top of his desk with his head bowed, Gideon remembered Phoebe’s warmth as she’d pressed her body deeper into his. Her response had been a clear demand of need. It had been impossible not to become intoxicated off the scent of wild roses teasing his nostrils or the hot sweetness of her mouth. She had been a fire he’d wanted to consume and be consumed by.

When he’d finally managed to bring his desire under control and break their kiss, it had been difficult to keep breathing as he’d stared down at her. Eyes closed, desire had made her radiant. Her breathing had been ragged, and her lips swollen from his kiss. It was at that specific moment he’d understood the fresh hell he’d descended into and would experience every time he held her in his arms. God, how he loved her, and God, how much he wanted to make her pay for the way she’d cut his heart out with that damn chapter of hers.

Gideon turned away from the desk to stare at the sheets of paper strewn about the floor. He closed his eyes as he remembered the torment reflected on Phoebe’s face as he’d thrust the ink-covered pages at her. Her anguish had startled him, and Gideon was convinced she’d been deeply distressed knowing he’d seen the chapter. The pain darkening Phoebe’s lovely brown eyes had made him want to pull her into his arms and tell her that even despite the vicious words she’d penned, he loved her.

A snort of contempt escaped him at how eager he’d been to console her. Then there was that pretty little speech of hers as to how she’d begged to keep the newspaper from printing the chapter. She’d even said she’d wronged him—declared he wasn’t like the caricature in her serial. It was difficult to believe her when he remembered the scathing pages of ridicule he’d read.

And then saying she didn’t expect him to forgive her. Why would Phoebe want his forgiveness? For that matter, why should he forgive her? She’d made her feelings quite clear with her words. Why should he forgive her such a caustic attack on him? The question filled his head with an image of Phoebe’s pale, drawn features, and Gideon remembered her saying that forgiveness was difficult. She hadn’t mentioned him or Edith by name or what he’d done last night. But he had no doubts as to what she was referring to.

Never in his entire life had Gideon ever made a blunder of such monumental proportions as he had last night. He could have been accused of many things in his youth, but stupidity was not one of them. Yet the manner in which he’d confronted Edith last night had been something even a wet behind the ears schoolboy would have thought twice about doing. It had been the most ill-conceived, dull-witted act he’d ever committed in his life.

He should have sent Edith a note via a footman to have her meet him somewhere without the possibility of being seen. Gideon prayed Phoebe was the only one who witnessed his despicable behavior. Despite his wife’s scathing words, he didn’t want to see her hurt. He loved her, no matter how much she loathed him.

Another loud noise of self-disgust escaped him. Only a fool would love a woman who held him in such contempt. Bending over, Gideon angrily collected the papers that Phoebe had thrown at him. The pages crackled as he picked up the offensive work in sharp, vicious movements along with the note she’d received from her friend.

The last page scooped up off the floor, Gideon carried the sheaf of papers to the fireplace and tossed them onto the fire. As the flames danced around the paper, satisfaction swept through him. He was rid of the damn thing. Hands braced against the mantelshelf, Gideon watched the paper begin to curl up and burst into flames. The note took longer to catch fire, and as the flames licked at the stationary, he recalled Phoebe’s reaction when he’d confronted her about the note.

Gideon hadn’t known what to expect when he’d demanded the truth from her, but he’d been completely unprepared for her righteous indignation. Nor had Gideon expected to believe anything she had to say about the note or its author, but he did. There was no doubt in Gideon’s mind that Phoebe and her friend’s relationship was purely platonic and nothing more. However, the Currer Chronicles was a different matter altogether.

Blue and yellow flames danced across the pages in the hearth as Gideon watched the vitriol burn. Although Phoebe had mocked him frequently in the Chronicles, it wasn’t that he was a target of her pen that Gideon found irritating. It was Phoebe’s satirical depiction of him that had always set his teeth on edge. Far too often, he’d actually seen himself in her droll, witty words.

Gideon dragged in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. It was one thing to accept his own faults, but for someone to expose his flaws in such a droll and witty manner had not been a pleasurable experience. And Phoebe’s pen had been exceedingly scintillating. He could not deny her skill at lampooning him or anyone else for that matter.

A growl of anger rumbled out of him as Gideon began to pace the floor. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he actually feeling proud of the fact that his wife was the anonymous author of a popular satire? A satire in which she’d made him a figure of fun on more than one occasion. Worst of all, she’d written a piece designed to publicly eviscerate him. The voice in the back of his head reminded him that she’d not allowed the Times to print it.

Gideon looked over his shoulder at the fireplace where the flames were eating away at the last of the chapter’s pages. His jaw tightened as he turned away from the fire once more. Watching it burn didn’t ease the pain Phoebe’s words had inflicted. She’d spared him nothing in the chapter that was quickly becoming ash in the fireplace.

Her depiction of Lord Chelmbee choosing his liaisons with a mere flick of his fingers had made Gideon appear as if he was a man of few morals and obsessed solely with pleasures of the flesh. Perhaps worst of all, the words had made it clear how much Phoebe loathed him. But if she despised him, why had she stopped the chapter from being printed?

Phoebe had said she’d written the chapter because she wanted to make him feel as small as she had when he’d condemned her. Gideon uttered a soft oath beneath his breath. It was true that he’d baited and taunted Phoebe from the moment he’d returned from Amsterdam. Could he really fault her for not wanting to strike back?

The memory of her apology a few moments ago made him frown in confusion. The regret in her voice had been undeniable, but there had been something more than regret in her voice. Another emotion had been threaded beneath her remorse. He drew in a deep breath of frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose.