Page 96 of The Rogue’s Countess

“Enough, Phoebe. You knew the chances of becoming pregnant, let alone carrying a child to term, were against you. Moping around like a sulking cat won’t change anything.”

With another pinch of her cheeks, she quickly rose from the dressing table’s bench to collect her hat and place it on her head. When it was securely pinned in place, she gathered her gloves and parasol then left the suite. As she made her way down to the hotel lobby, she passed a young woman holding the hand of a little girl. The woman smiled in a silent greeting while her daughter shyly waved hello.

Phoebe forced a smile to her lips then increased her pace in an effort to put distance between herself and them. When she reached the lobby, she took a few steps toward the hotel’s dining room only to realize she wasn’t hungry. Instead, she walked toward the hotel’s main doorway and the sunshine beyond. The sun’s warmth might ease the chill that still engulfed her.

Wrapped up in her thoughts, the sound of someone calling her name drifted close to the edge of her internal musing, and Phoebe paused for a brief moment to glance over her shoulder. Seeing no one, she dismissed the soft echo as having come from her own imagination, and she continued toward the exit.

“Phoebe.”

This time her name was a louder cry in the air, and it mixed with the fast, light clatter of shoes on the marble floor from only a few feet away. Phoebe stopped again and looked over her shoulder to see Lawrence and Anthony hurrying across the lobby in her direction. Stunned to see the two men, she stared at them with her mouth parted in amazement. The moment he reached her, Lawrence enveloped her in a warm, tight embrace and kissed her cheek.

“What are you doing here?” she gasped in bewilderment as she returned the gesture of affection.

“We’re here for the annual Palio Madama Margarita.”

“The what?” Phoebe arched her eyebrows in puzzlement.

“It’s a festival in Castel Madama where the entire town becomes a medieval village almost overnight. It’s become a yearly destination for us. The last two days of the event is the jousting match, which Anthony participates in. Although I’d rather he not.”

“You worry too much.” Anthony Evans, Baron Siddall, arched his eyebrows at his partner before greeting Phoebe with a broad smile and a peck on each cheek. “How are you, my dear, Phoebe. It’s been far too long since we saw each other.”

“Hello, Anthony.” She smiled at the man who was several years younger than Lawrence. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“When are you going to visit us in France? Lawrence told me he asked you a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head. “I…Gideon and I haven’t been married very long, and I’ve not discussed it with him.”

“And why are you here, my pet?” The question made Phoebe flinch as she tried not to think about her current situation. When she didn’t immediately answer, Lawrence looked around with a frown of disapproval. “And where is this husband of yours?”

“He’s meeting with a horticulturist.”

“Are you telling me the man brought you to Rome simply to leave you alone while he dashed off somewhere?” The disapproval in Lawrence’s voice was accompanied by a thinning of his lips and a flash of anger in his gaze.

“No. I encouraged him to go.” Phoebe shook her head sharply as she corrected her friend. “We’ve been in Rome for the past two weeks. It’s…it’s our wedding trip.”

“All the worse for leaving his bride alone,” Anthony said with condemnation in his voice.

“Stop this.” Phoebe eyed both of them with irritation. “I told Gideon to go. I know how much he enjoys puttering around in his garden at home, and I didn’t want to sit through a discussion about plant soil and what flowers grow best.”

At her fierce repudiation of their judgmental observations, both Lawrence and Anthony stared at her in surprise. Lawrence’s amazement swiftly disappeared as he narrowed his gaze at her.

“Something’s happened.”

“Nothing has happened other than Gideon and I have confessed our true feelings for one another.” Phoebe forced a smile to her lips and shook her head. “I am blissfully happy in knowing my husband loves me as much as I love him.”

“Then why aren’t your eyes shining with happiness, not to mention the fact you’re as pale as a ghost.”

“I am happy, Lawrence. I truly am,” Phoebe said fervently.

“I don’t believe you,” her long-time friend said briskly. Lawrence raised his hand as Phoebe started to protest. “Don’t say a word, Phoebe. We both know I can read you as easily as I can a book. Anthony?”

“Why don’t we take Phoebe to that small café we found yesterday,” Anthony suggested quietly. “Something tells me she’s not eaten today.”

“A capital idea,” Lawrence said with a nod.

Before she could say another word of protest, Lawrence pulled her arm through his, and with a nod to his partner, her best friend guided her out of the hotel. As they stepped out into the sunlight, Phoebe blinked until her eyes adjusted to the light. His hand over hers to prevent her from escaping, Lawrence’s expression was one of concern and a hint of anger.

Phoebe was certain the irritation twisting her friend’s mouth was at his incorrect assessment that Gideon had made her unhappy. The three of them headed in the direction of the Spanish Steps in silence. When they reached the famous stairway, they descended the steps designed in the shape of a large butterfly.