Page 15 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Awakened from a sound sleep at this hour, I’m not inclined to be enthused about much of anything.” Mrs. Gilroy wrung her hands in a knot. “At least thishouseguestwon’t be gnawing on the rug.” Her brows drew together. “Nor piddling on it, for that matter.”
“Well, that is something to be thankful for, isn’t it?” Jon replied lightly, his tone teasing.
Belle squared her shoulders and met the woman’s cool gaze. She’d been through too much on this horrid night to be cowed by a woman who barely came to her chin. “Indeed, I cannot say I have a propensity toward either act.”
“A bit of spirit, eh?” Mrs. Gilroy smiled. “I think I like her.” Her eyes narrowed as the soft tinkling of a bell announced the presence of a small, furry dynamo trotting—or would galloping be more accurate?—into the hall. “Pity the same cannot be said ofhim.”
Jon raked a hand through his hair as the dog scurried to greet him. Crouching down, he patted the pup on the head. “Should I ask what he’s ruined this time?”
“Nothing tonight.” The woman’s frown eased, if only a bit. “But I still haven’t forgiven him for chomping on my favorite shoes.”
Jon tapped a finger to his chin. “As I recall, I purchased a fine pair for you the very next day.”
“That ye did,” she agreed. “But I’d become quite attached to the others. They were my favorite, ye know.”
Jon’s gaze trailed to the feet poking out beneath the hem of the woman’s flannel robe. “You’re referring to the shoes you’re wearing?”
“Indeed. The wee beast did not destroy them, but I certainly cannot wear shoes with teeth marks while I’m out and about on my daily errands.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Mrs. Gilroy, since you are awake, I’m in need of your assistance.”
“Are ye, now? Well then, that makes us even.” The woman’s keen-eyed gaze swept Belle, lingering over the formerly pristine white skirt of her gown. She pursed her lips. “I’m needing some assistance to understand why the Frost Princess is here, wearing...that, no less.”
Belle met the woman’s questioning gaze, even as she felt her own brows hike. “Frost Princess? I hadn’t heard that one.”
“Ice Princess... Frost Princess... something like that.” Mrs. Gilroy pinned Belle with her hawklike gaze. “Ye’re her, aren’t ye?”
“My name is Arabelle Frost,” she replied, suddenly intrigued. “Have we met?”
The woman regarded her as if she were daft. “Do I look like a society type ye’d be hobnobbing with at some ball or another?”
My, the housekeeper is a cheeky one, isn’t she?Not at all what she’d expected. She’d imagined Jon would run a tight ship. But this crabby wisp of a housekeeper definitely did not fit the bill.
“It is possible I’d made your acquaintance,” she replied with a little hike of her chin. “After all, I’ve done more than attend balls while I’ve been in London.”
You certainly have.Belle’s thoughts raced.A charity soiree with some countess or other. A fundraiser for orphans and widows. An impetuous engagement to a scoundrel. And a frantic dash from that very scoundrel’s grasp. Ah, yes, you’ve been a busy Dollar Princess, haven’t you?
“It’s near as likely that I’d sprout wings and fly away from this place.” Mrs. Gilroy shot Jon a glance. “One more person, orbeast, to pick up after, and I might just do that, though I’ll be in a carriage, firmly on the ground.”
As Mrs. Gilroy uttered the words, the ball of fur on legs dashed over to Belle, sat on its bottom, and regarded her with beseeching brown eyes.
A dog. How very surprising. She’d no idea the business-and-nothing-but-business tycoon had a pet, much less one that possessed teeth capable of chomping down on shoes. Perhaps even more surprising was the large blue bow adorning the silver collar about the pup’s neck. She’d certainly never expected to see such a thing on a dog belonging to Jon Mason.
“Come now, Mrs. Gilroy. You are likely the most well-compensated housekeeper in all of London.” Jon flashed a smile that might’ve charmed an ogre. “You know this won’t last forever.”
“Well, I certainly do hope ye’re right,” the older woman said with an almost-grudging little smile. “As for ye, Miss Frost, I recognized ye from the morning edition. Yer picture was in yesterday’s news. And the evening editions, at least twice. They can’t get enough of yer good deeds.” Her eyes narrowed again. “And yer engagement with the highbrow nob—as I recall, they dubbed him the Scottish Lord.”
Belle gulped. “That... thatwas in the papers?”
“Last week, as I recall.” Mrs. Gilroy’s brow furrowed like a washboard. “Which makes it all the more of a puzzle that ye’re here.”
Belle nibbled her lower lip.Drat the luck.She’d had no inkling the press had been alerted to her impulsive response to Gideon’s proposal. Had he—or her conniving aunt—planted the story in the papers? Why, she hadn’t even informed her mother and father. They’d be stunned if they saw the news. And utterly relieved to discover the truth that she’d come to her senses before it was too late.
“Are you my new nanny?” The direct yet sweetly voiced query pulled Belle from her dismayed musings.
Nanny?
She turned to the archway behind her, to the precious moppet who’d uttered the question. Abundant curls in a shade of vibrant chestnut framed a round, angelic face. Clutching a stuffed rabbit made of calico against her small body, the girl stared up at Belle with wide brown eyes.
