Page 98 of The Rogue’s Countess

With an abrupt nod, Gideon spun around on his heel and walked quickly out of the hotel. His stride fast-paced, Gideon tried to think of an explanation for Phoebe being with two strangers. Two male strangers. He muttered a harsh oath under his breath. God help them if they had done anything to hurt her.

The distance to the Spanish Steps was short, and he paused briefly at the top of the famous stone stairway to study the people climbing and descending the steps. When he didn’t see Phoebe, his heart sank. Where the hell was she. Fear followed Gideon as he quickly descended the steps. At the foot of the stairs, he came to an abrupt halt in the Piazza di Spagna. Uncertain which direction to take, Gideon’s gaze searched the busy square. He was about to turn left when he saw a woman sitting at a small outdoor café flanked by two men.

The woman’s back was to him, but she was wearing a hat just like the one Phoebe had worn the other day. He distinctly remembered it because he’d teased her about the hat’s outrageous wide brim. Then there was the soft roundness of her curves beneath her dress. A second later, the woman revealed her profile as she turned her head to look at the man on her left.

Relief crashed over him. She was safe. Whoever Phoebe was with hadn’t harmed her. Although he could hear the faint murmur of her voice, it was impossible to make out what she was saying. The moment one of the two men rested his arm on the back of her chair and took Phoebe’s hand in his, every last bit of air in Gideon’s lungs was sucked out of him.

The man kissed Phoebe’s hand in an affectionate manner, and an unspeakable rage exploded inside Gideon. He wanted to pummel the stranger until the man lay half-dead at his feet. An image swirled through Gideon’s head of the man sprawled on the ground, unconscious, bloodied, and Gideon began to walk quickly toward the small party.

Gideon was still several feet away when he heard Phoebe mention his name, followed by the revelation she didn’t know how to tell him the truth. Gideon’s stride faltered as he tried to comprehend what she was saying.

What was she afraid to tell him? What was she hiding from him? Had she suddenly realize she didn’t really love him? Gideon immediately dismissed the thought. Phoebe loved him. Of that, he was certain. In the back of his head, a mocking voice asked him what he would do if he was wrong.

Anger and fear pounded through his blood as he fought off the urge to drag her out of her chair and shake the truth out of her. What could she so easily share with a stranger that she couldn’t tell her husband? Closing the distance between them, Gideon came to a halt behind her and bitterly asked her what she found so difficult to share with him.

The instant Phoebe heard his question, she immediately pulled away from the man at her side. With a jerk, she twisted around in her seat to stare up at him in horror. The idea that she might be afraid of him twisted his gut. Hadn’t he told her—showed her—how much he loved her? Had he failed to make her understand he’d never hurt her? He’d give his life to keep her safe. He loved her that much.

“I asked you a question, Phoebe,” he growled softly. “What is it you find so easy to share with a stranger but far too difficult to share with your husband?”

“Lord Chelmsford, I presume?”

“I suggest you move away from my wife,” he said coldly to the man whose arm rested on the back of Phoebe’s chair.

The small smile twisting the man’s lips made Gideon want to drop the man to the ground with a hard right jab. The bastard was laughing at him. As the stranger pulled away from Phoebe, she sprang to her feet. Anger darkened his wife’s lovely features as she faced him with a look of disgusted irritation. Gideon narrowed his gaze at her, but her anger didn’t abate.

“Gideon, I’d like you to meet my friend Lawrence Babcock, the Earl of Linshal,” she said in an icy voice. In a sharp sweep of her hand, she introduced the man who had demonstrated an obvious affection for Phoebe. In another pointed gesture, she bobbed her head toward the man on her right. “And this is his friend, Baron Siddall. Gentlemen, this is my husband, Lord Chelmsford.”

As he drew in his next breath, his gaze swung toward the man Phoebe introduced him to first. Lawrence. This was the man Phoebe considered her dearest friend. The man she’d been trying to protect the night they’d met in Montjoy’s garden. Almost as if he could see the puzzle pieces coming together in Gideon’s head, Lawrence eyed him with amusement.

“So you’re the man who stole my dearest friend’s heart,” Lord Linshal said with a cheerful smile in what was obviously a deliberate effort to ease the tension between Gideon and Phoebe. The moment her friend spoke, Phoebe jerked her head toward Linshal to glare at him. Her expression made Lawrence arch his eyebrows. “Are you going to deny you’re in love with your husband, my pet?”

Phoebe didn’t answer her friend, and she turned her head away to avoid Linshal’s gaze. The earl’s attention still focused on Phoebe, Linshal addressed Gideon.

“I confess I was uncertain whether I would like you, Chelmsford. When it comes to the woman who is the sister I never had, there are few men I would find worthy of her. But it’s quite clear to me how much you love Phoebe, despite her stubborn nature,” Linshal said with a smile.

At his cheerful statement, Gideon saw a fierce shudder rock Phoebe’s body. Linshal’s smile was pleasant as he extended his hand in friendship. Gideon didn’t move for a moment as he studied the stiff line of Phoebe’s back. Suddenly aware that he was being rude, Gideon accepted Linshal’s hand in a firm handshake and did the same with the baron.

Polite greetings dispensed with Gideon returned his attention to Phoebe. As the silence stretched out between the four of them, Lord Linshal uttered a soft sound of exasperation. Leaning forward, he whispered something into her ear. Whatever he’d said caused Phoebe’s posture to sag as if in defeat. Turning around to face Gideon, she drew in a deep breath.

“I need to speak with you, but not here,” she said in a wooden voice.

“As you wish,” Gideon said quietly. “The hotel then?”

Something indescribable flared in Phoebe’s eyes as she met his gaze for a brief moment. She jerked her head in agreement then turned to her friend. Phoebe kissed the earl with affection as she said her goodbyes. Phoebe did the same with Baron Siddal, then walked away in the direction of the Spanish Steps.

With a nod to both men, Gideon turned and followed his wife. He caught up with Phoebe easily despite her quick pace. As he came abreast of her, Gideon saw her flinch, and she immediately widened the space between the two of them.

Frustrated, he extended his hand to brush his fingertips over hers. Phoebe’s reaction was to jerk away from him and widen the distance between them even more. Christ Jesus, they’d only been apart for a couple of hours. Where had his sweet, loving, mischievous wife gone and why? He was still asking that question when they reached their hotel suite.

Closing the door of their rooms behind him, Gideon remained where he was as he watched Phoebe cross the floor to the dresser. Her movements lethargic, she slowly removed her hat and gloves. It was as if he was watching the same woman who’d come to him that day in the arboretum and accepted his proposal. As if a sledgehammer had hit his chest, Gideon’s thoughts slammed into a wall.

Phoebe wasn’t pregnant.

The sudden realization made his muscles knot with pain. The one thing she’d feared had come to pass, and it was obvious she was devastated. While he couldn’t deny it would give him great pleasure to see Phoebe growing round with his child, it was not for the reason she thought. Carrying his child would make her happy, and that’s all he wanted.

He wanted Phoebe to be happy. The fact that she was afraid to tell him there would be no child meant Gideon had failed to make Phoebe understand the real reason why he’d offered his hand to her that night in the library. Gideon inhaled a deep breath then took a step forward.

“I love you, Phoebe. Nothing. Nothing will ever change that. With each passing day, I love you more than the day before. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. No, I can imagine it. It would be a bleak, hellish existence.”