Page 1 of The Rogue’s Countess

Chapter 1

May 1895

Moonlight draped a pale shroud over the garden landscape as Phoebe descended the wide stone stairs leading into Lord Montjoy’s gardens. Behind her, the music spilled out of the ballroom. It followed her as she moved deeper into the large decorative gardens that extended away from the mansion. The further away from the house, the softer the music became until it faded to a mere whisper. Despite the heat of the day lingering in the garden, it was a welcome respite from the crowded ballroom and its stifling heat.

She had deliberately waited until Alfred was engrossed in conversation with his latest mistress and several of his friends before she’d dared to venture out into the garden. If Alfred had realized what she was planning, he would have stopped her, which meant her efforts to save her dearest friend would fail. Failure meant Lawrence would pay a far greater price than any humiliation or pain Alfred could inflict on her.

In the almost six years they’d been married, her senses had become dulled to Alfred’s drinking, philandering, and cruelty. She’d learned to step outside of herself when he rutted on top of her, but it was much harder to insulate herself from his verbal tirades. Those she tried to avoid at all cost. It was so much easier if she didn’t incite his anger.

Tonight had been one of those rare moments when she’d failed to keep her wits about her. It had been a long time since she’d spoken without thinking in Alfred’s presence. Instinctively, Phoebe’s hand reached up to touch the back of her head. Her scalp still stung from where Alfred had pulled viciously on her hair earlier this evening.

From the beginning of their marriage, her husband had never shown her kindness, and her inability to give him an heir had made things worse. After her second miscarriage, Alfred accused her of having taken steps to rid herself of a child. It was the farthest thing from the truth, A child would have made life more bearable, and his cruel words had made her lose her tongue.

Alfred had become enraged when she’d declared he might be the one responsible in the matter as well. She’d pointed to his drinking, which usually made him impotent when he shared her bed. The moment the back of his hand had hit her face, she’d learned a hard lesson. It was the first and only time he’d actually hit her, but Phoebe had never made the same mistake again until tonight.

It was only when Alfred was between mistresses that Phoebe ever had to dread him entering her bedroom to demand his conjugal rights. It was why she’d been surprised to see him enter her room earlier. He had only recently taken up with his latest paramour, and she’d been too bewildered to think twice. Before she could stop herself, she’d questioned his reason for being in her rooms. Normally, Alfred inflicted pain with cruel words. In his inebriated state, he’d tried to slap her. When she’d darted out of the way, the only thing he’d been able to grab hold of was her hair. She winced again as the memory seemed to make her scalp sting worse.

The garden path darkened as the row of trees lining the pebbled walkway blocked the night sky. Ahead of her, she could see where the path broke outward to encircle a small fountain illuminated by the moon. As she left the trees’ shadows, she sat down on one of the white marble benches situated around the ornamental structure to wait. Lawrence would be here soon.

Soft voices echoed nearby as other guests sought a more intimate setting. It wouldn’t be difficult for her and Lawrence to convince someone that they were having an affair. Rumors of a liaison would simply be seen as the result of a longtime friendship. Alfred would most likely beat her for daring to cuckold him, but it didn’t matter. News of her alleged affair would save Lawrence from prosecution. Phoebe frowned as she recalled how frantic her friend had been when he’d visited her that morning.

Phoebe had just finished pouring a cup of tea when Lawrence had called on her. Although clearly upset, her friend had managed to wait until the door had closed behind Bateman before speaking.

“I’m done for, my pet,” Lawrence exclaimed in a hoarse voice as he kissed her cheeks in greeting then turned away to pace the floor like a caged animal. Her friend was rarely rattled, but his manner was that of a hunted man.

“What’s wrong?” she exclaimed softly.

“I was careless.” One hand shoving its way through his blond, wavy hair, her friend prowled the room with a dark and grim expression. “I wouldn’t be in this damnable position if I had simply used my head.”

Even despite his obvious fear, Lawrence still struck a dashing figure. With his firm, full mouth, long, sooty eyelashes, and crystal blue eyes, women in the Set always vied for her friend’s attention. It wasn’t simply his looks that caused a stir. He was witty, charming, and kind. Although, as far as mothers were concerned, it was her friend’s title and money that was the true attraction. Already wealthy in his own right, as the future Earl of Linshal, Lawrence stood to inherit a great deal more once his father was gone.

Yet, none of those things were what made Phoebe adore her friend. As an American heiress, her father had bought her a title. It wasn’t something she’d ever asked for or wanted. In fact, she would have preferred to simply wait to fall in love with a man who loved her as well. But her father had been adamant that only a husband with a title was good enough for his daughter.

Worse, he’d had made no effort to be discreet about the fact when hunting for a husband suitable for his daughter. While her dowry had not been something to sneer at, it had been less than substantial to secure her a duke or earl. Her father’s blatant, and often uncouth, efforts to gain her a title was why a great many of the Marlborough Set had always viewed her with disdain. Alfred’s bombastic, often drunken behavior only exacerbated the situation. Nor did her husband’s low standing on the social ladder in terms of land and wealth.

The first few social events she’d attended after her wedding had been nothing but haughty condescension and outright snubs. It was at one of those affairs that Lawrence had witnessed several women snub her. He’d immediately charged to her rescue and introduced her to members of the Set who had willingly included her in their circle.

From that moment forward, she and Lawrence had been best friends, and over the years, the bond they had formed was akin to that of brother and sister. Although Alfred disliked Lawrence, her husband knew Phoebe’s friend opened doors all the way up to the Prince of Wales himself. Doors that would have remained closed to them without her friendship with Lawrence.

It was a social power Alfred was keenly aware of, and she was certain it was the only reason he’d never forbidden her to discontinue her friendship with Lawrence. It was a fact for which she was grateful as Lawrence was the only person she could confide in completely. In turn, her friend had placed his trust in her as well.

“Come sit down and tell me what’s happened.” Phoebe patted the cushion beside her on the settee. Like an obedient child, Lawrence sat down next to her.

“It’s Coombs. He saw Anthony and me leaving the Boulders club together,” her friend rasped. “He’s denounced me as a sodomite to several of his friends.”

“Dear lord.” Phoebe stared at him in heartfelt dismay.

Almost from the beginning, Phoebe had known Lawrence was different than other men. It didn’t make her love him any less. She’d always believed Lawrence was who he was simply because it was the way God and nature had made him. Now he might be punished for the fact, and the thought horrified her.

“Ever since the bastard lost all that money to me when my mare beat his stallion at Newmarket, he’s had it in for me.” One hand rubbing his forehead, Lawrence leaned forward to stare at the rug beneath his feet and shook his head. “Now he’s determined to ruin me or worse, have me locked away.”

“Are you certain he saw you with Anthony?”

“Yes,” her friend said with a dark note of dismay in his voice. “He didn’t say a word. He just smiled, and I knew he wouldn’t simply turn his head away as someone else might have.” A shudder ripped through her friend, and Phoebe wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

“Surely there’s something we can do to discredit Coombs so others think he’s simply trying to make trouble.”

“I’ve been up all night trying to think of something. Anthony has already left for France, and I can’t think of any other alternative for myself.”