Page 16 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
Mulling questions of her own, Belle met the child’s inquisitive gaze.How very interesting.A tot was perhaps the very last thing she’d expected to find in Jon’s home. Had he harbored a secret during his time in America?
“My name is Belle,” she offered with a smile. “Might I ask your name?”
“Her name is—” Jon said, his tone gruff. Evidently, he had not expected to be greeted by the sleepy-eyed imp.
“Carrie,” the child said brightly. Turning to Jon, the child flashed a little smile, as if to counter his stern expression. “I know my own name, silly.”
“Silly, is it?” Jon’s expression lightened, and he chuckled beneath his breath as he went to her. Belle thought he might hug the child, but instead, he offered a gentle pat on the head. “It’s well past your bedtime.”
“I was in bed. But I heard a noise,” the girl explained, sounding as if the reason she was not sound asleep should be quite obvious. She looked up at Belle. “Are you my new nanny?” she repeated, sounding a bit more hopeful this time.
“You’ve no need of anewnanny,” Jon said, seeming oblivious to Mrs. Gilroy’s quiethumph.
The dog trotted over to the girl and plopped down before her small, slipper-clad feet. Evidently, the child had wrapped the furball on four legs around her little finger.
“But Idoneed a nanny,” the girl said rather confidently.
“Now who’s being silly?” he said gently as he softly tousled her curls with his fingers. He turned to Mrs. Gilroy. “Please summon Miss Pritchard from her chamber so that she might settle Carolyn back into bed.”
“I would be happy to,” Mrs. Gilroy said, looking as if she were biting back a little grin. “If she were still here.”
Jon blinked. “Stillhere, you say?”
“Miss Pritchard is no longer in residence,” Mrs. Gilroy said, leaning on her cane with each step as she made her way to the little girl. Bending closer, she took the child’s hand in hers. “Wee one, would ye like to tell us what ye did today?”
“I had a tea party.” The girl’s beaming smile brightened her features. “With Heathy.”
“Heathy?” Belle could not resist the question.
“The dog,” Jon said, his tone weary.
“A rather unique name for a pet,” Belle said, flashing a questioning glance.
“I had no part in choosing the little beast’s name. He’s not mine, you see.”
“Another guest,” Mrs. Gilroy muttered beneath her breath.
“One of my business partners and his wife were called away on an urgent family matter. It was not feasible to bring their dog along, so... here he is.”
“Don’t let his size fool ye, Miss,” the housekeeper added. “Given the chance, he’ll chew anything in sight. Except the cat. She’s the one resident of this house he won’t pester.”
“Another guest, as Mrs. Gilroy likes to say,” Jon added, his tone slightly wry.
Mrs. Gilroy slanted him a glance Belle suspected was deliberately weary. “Miss Macie thought it best not to tote a finicky pet along on her expedition. So, the cat has made herself comfortable here.”
Jon glanced about the room. “Speaking of Cleo, where is she?”
Mrs. Gilroy’s thin shoulders lifted and fell. “Bedded down somewhere, I’m sure. She’s taken over the house, I tell ye. Thank goodness she has no fondness for tea parties. Or dirt.”
Jon hiked a brow. “Dirt?”
“Wet dirt, to be more precise.” Mrs. Gilroy turned back to Carrie. A touch of a grin played on her features. “Now, child, will ye tell us what ye served at yer little party?”
“Doggie and I had tea,” Carrie said, sounding rather proud of herself. “Pretend, of course. And we made pies.”
Jon’s brow furrowed. “You made pies?”
“Make-believe pies,” Carrie went on, sounding quite delighted with her little party. “We didn’t eat them. But Heathy... he made a bit of a mess.”
