Page 65 of The Rogue’s Countess

Phoebe sighed as her gaze shifted down to focus on the Chelmsford emerald on her finger. If someone had asked Phoebe to describe how she was feeling at the moment, she would have been forced to say she felt numb. She was married. It was a state Phoebe had vowed never to enter into ever again. While Gideon had given his word not to control her, it was impossible not to feel uneasy about what the future held.

Yesterday, when he’d announced his intentions to find P. Currer, she’d been in a state of panic. She knew her fierce reaction to Gideon’s news had startled him, and she’d fled the dining room without any thought as to how suspicious her behavior might look. Later in the afternoon, he’d apologized for not consulting her about it.

When he had tried to convince Phoebe to allow him to continue with his efforts to find Currer, she’d adamantly rejected the idea. He had been far from happy with her decision, and a part of her wondered if he still might try to find Currer without her knowledge.

The thought made her realize she couldn’t risk visiting the newspaper more than once. Phoebe would need to submit all three of the chapters she’d promised Mr. Meade at the same time. It meant she would need to visit Constance almost daily if she wanted to rid herself of P. Currer quickly. Worse, she would be unable to avoid mentioning Gideon and their marriage. Not mentioning their wedding would arouse suspicion.

Eyes closed, she massaged her forehead as she contemplated how to finish the Chronicles without Gideon discovering the truth. Behind her, a quiet knock on the door between her room and Gideon’s made her body grow taut. Steeling herself for whatever might come, she called out a quiet invitation to enter her room.

As the door between the two chambers slowly opened, she stood up to face Gideon as he entered her bedroom. The sight of him made her heart skip a beat. He was dressed for dinner, and as always, he looked splendid. Phoebe’s mouth became dry as he crossed the floor toward her.

“The color blue suits you. It always has.”

The quiet appreciation in his voice made her heart flutter. She glanced down at the dark blue gown. The color was similar to that of the dress she’d worn the first time they’d met. The memory of that night caused her cheeks to grow hot as she lifted her gaze to meet his. As if he could read her thoughts, a small yet wicked smile tilted his mouth.

“Sometimes the male sex does pay attention to what a beautiful woman wears.” His words made her cheeks grow hotter, and he laughed softly. “And you blush as sweetly now as you did five years ago.”

“It was dark. How could you tell?” she said with a sniff of irritated disbelief. This time his laugh was rich and full-bodied.

“Because I could feel the heat of your skin beneath my hand.”

“Oh,” she uttered, unable to think of a suitable reply. Gideon, his mouth still curled slightly with amusement, reached into his pocket.

“I had thought this would be ready by this morning, but it wasn’t. It’s why I was gone so long this afternoon.”

He closed the distance between them and offered her a slim jeweler’s box. Uncertainty swept through her, and Gideon bobbed his head, silently urging her to take it. Phoebe accepted the box and slowly opened it. Nestled in the blue velvet was a necklace of small emeralds that sparkled in the light from the gaslights on the wall. She drew in a sharp breath and looked up at Gideon.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” Phoebe said before looking down at the necklace again and lightly running her fingertips across the jewels.

“Here, let me put it on you.”

Before she could speak, Gideon stepped forward and took the necklace from its box while gently turning her away from him. As he placed his gift around her neck, the masculine smell of him drifted beneath her nose. The scent of pine, leather, and something spicy made her close her eyes for a moment. As she drank him into her senses, the words ‘if only’ kept spinning through her head.

A second later, his lips seared her flesh as he kissed the hollow between her neck and shoulder. Phoebe drew in a quick breath, and her eyes flew open to meet his in the mirror. Something in his gaze stirred a fire in her belly, and she didn’t protest as he turned her to face him. Silence hovered between them, and Phoebe trembled as Gideon stroked her cheek lightly before he took a step back and glanced around the room.

“It’s been some time since this room was last renovated. If there’s something you’d like to change, simply mention it to Mrs. Albright. Between her and Pendleton, they can find an architect to meet with you about any changes you’d like to see made.”

“I see no need to change anything,” Phoebe said as she looked around the room.

It was true. There was nothing that displeased her about the room. At her reply, Gideon released a heavy sigh. Confused by his reaction, she turned her head to look up at him. Frustration furrowed his brow as he gestured toward the door.

“We should go downstairs. I’m sure Mama is waiting in the salon.” At his somewhat brusque statement, Phoebe laughed.

“You know, as well as I do, that she is never early.”

“Perhaps, but there is always a first time,” he said with a small smile curving his lips. Phoebe laughed again as she walked toward the door.

“There are many things about the marchioness that are unpredictable, but timeliness will never be one of them.”

As they stepped out into the hall, Gideon offered his arm. Without thinking, she curled her hand around a hard, muscular arm. The instant she touched him, heat streaked up her arm to spread its way through her body. A small tremor rippled through her, but if Gideon noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. Phoebe darted a quick look up at Gideon’s profile as they made their way toward the stairs. Although his expression was unreadable, there was quiet strength to his profile that gave her an unexpected sense of calm. When they reached the salon, Phoebe turned her head to eye Gideon with amusement.

“As I said, Mama is not known for her timeliness.” Before Gideon could reply, Pendleton appeared in the salon doorway.

“My lord, her ladyship has sent word that she will not be joining you this evening.” The butler’s words made Phoebe inhale a small gasp of alarm.

“Is she feeling unwell?” Gideon asked with a note of concern in his voice.

“No, my lord, Lady Wrotham indicated you and Lady Chelmsford had no need of company tonight.”