Page 18 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Oh, dear,” Belle said under her breath.
“Ah, it was a terrible commotion,” Mrs. Gilroy explained. “Just as I made it to the terrace, Miss Pritchard slipped.”
“She fell on my mud pies.” Carrie sounded rather solemn.
“Good heavens,” Belle said as Jon rubbed his temples again.
“It was a scene like no other, I tell ye. The prim shrew landed right on her bustle.” Mrs. Gilroy recounted with a born storyteller’s flair. “And then, to add insult to injury, Heathy pounced on her, muddy paws and all, and gave her a hearty lick on the cheek.”
Carrie patted the pup on the head. “He was only trying to make her feel better.”
“That he was, child. That he was,” Mrs. Gilroy agreed kindly. “By the time Miss Pritchard made it to her feet, she was mad as a hornet.Nannystormed inside and packed her bags. She won’t be back.”
Jon rubbed his temples as though they ached. “You’re sure of that?”
“Quite so,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “Trust me when I tell ye it is for the best.”
Jon met the woman’s tired gaze. “For the best, eh?”
Mrs. Gilroy gave a brisk nod. “There’s a bit more to this story, but I will explain at another time. Such talk is not good for the wee lass’s tender ears.”
“Point taken.” He scrubbed a hand over the edge of his jaw, over the dark bristles of new beard. “Now, I’ll return to my initial request for your assistance, Mrs. Gilroy. Our guest requires a suitable night dress and a day dress for the morning. By any chance did Miss Pritchard leave behind some garments that might serve the purpose? While I’m purchasing the woman a new bonnet, I will certainly pay to replace a dress or two.”
Mrs. Gilroy’s keen gaze swept over Belle. She shook her head. “Yer eyes must be more weary than I’d thought. Nothing that scarecrow in skirts wore would fit Miss Frost.”
Prim shrew. Scarecrow in skirts.My, the housekeeper had harbored no fondness for the child’s governess. What had gone on between the women to cause such animosity?
Jon rubbed his jaw again. “You do have a point. Well, then, I’d imagine my sister has a dress or two in the closet. It wasn’t that long ago that Macie was visiting, and you know how she always leaves something or other behind.”
“I do believe I can find something suitable,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “But first, I’ll need to see the wee lass back into her bed.”
Jon shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll tuck her in.” He knelt down before the little girl. “Would you like that, Carolyn?”
“Very much.” She rubbed her still sleepy eyes and turned to Belle. “Will you come, too?”
“Miss Frost is our guest. Not your governess.” Jon clipped the words between his teeth before Belle could utter a reply. He scooped the child up in his arms. “Time for you to sleep.”
“I wanted to tell her about Miss Bun-Bun,” the girl said, reaching out to Belle.
“There’s no time for that now. It’s well past your bedtime. And mine.” He held the child gently, yet there was a stern, no-nonsense air about Jon’s manner. The little girl seemed to sense it, poking out her bottom lip ever so slightly. The hint of unhappiness in the child’s eyes tore at Belle. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch the girl’s small hand.
“In the morning, you can tell me all about your rabbit,” she said, brushing her fingers over the stuffed animal’s little face. “She’s quite a pretty one.”
“Indeed,” Carrie said with a wan little smile. “Night-night.”
“Goodnight, Carrie.” Belle blew the little girl a kiss, delighted by the child’s small grin as she peered over Jon’s broad shoulder while he carried her from the room.
Belle stared after the child. Should she have defied Jon and gone along to tuck the girl into bed? There would’ve been no harm in it. Would there?
But then again, she didn’t expect to be here—in this house—for very long. With any luck, she’d have new accommodations by the next sunset. She’d no doubt Jon would arrange security for her at one of the exclusive hotels where he had connections. As soon as she could obtain a suitable dress and a place to stay out of Gideon’s reach, she’d have no need to further distract Jon from his many responsibilities. Leading Carrie to hope she might actually take the place of the nanny who’d bolted so unceremoniously from the little girl’s life would serve no purpose. Indeed, it might truly be unkind to give the child false hope.
Belle’s heart ached at the very thought. The child was bright and sweet-natured, but there was such sadness in those big brown eyes. Who was this little imp? And why was she here—with Jon Mason, of all people? The man lived for the nextendeavor, the next business deal, the next store opening. He had no wife. No experience with children. And very little patience with anything that impeded his efficiency.
“She’s his cousin’s child,” Mrs. Gilroy offered, seeming to read her thoughts. “The wee lass is an orphan, ye see. This is her third home in little more than a year.”
“Her third home?” Belle met the woman’s careworn features. “Why is she here with Mr. Mason?”
“’Tis not my place to be carrying tales, but at the heart, it’s rather simple. The wee lass had nowhere else to go.”
