Page 26 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“There’s no time to rest,” Mrs. Gilroy scoffed. “I need to be finishing up my work in the kitchen. Though I don’t quite know how I’m going to manage.” She leaned on the cane for emphasis. “Perhaps ye might help me serve the morning meal.”
“Of course I will,” Belle offered, eager to aid the woman who’d been kind to her. “For now, you need to rest. I insist.”
“Ah, ye’re an angel,” the housekeeper said, her voice filled with as much sugar as a pecan pie.
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m happy to help.”
“Thank goodness ye’re here,” Mrs. Gilroy went on. “I don’t know what I’d do without ye.” Despite the syrup in her voice, she couldn’t hide the determined glimmer in her eyes. “And please pour a cup of milk for the wee lass. The milkman brought a fresh bottle this morning. Ye’ll find it in the ice box.”
Carrie had been resting her chin on her hands, but she popped up in her seat, eyes wide with interest. “May I help?”
“Of course,” Belle replied.
Jon sent the girl a speaking glance. She stilled in her seat. “That isnota good idea,” he said.
“I see no reason why Carrie cannot assist in carrying a bit of food from one room to another,” Belle countered.
Without another moment’s hesitation, the girl slid from the chair and dashed toward her. “I’m a good helper.”
“That ye are, wee one,” Mrs. Gilroy said kindly, even as the note of doubt beneath the surface contradicted her words. “That ye are.”
Even though Belle had known Mrs. Gilroy for less than a day, the housekeeper’s suddenly sweet tone did not fit the crabby woman who had looked as if she might actually rap Jon with her walking stick moments earlier when he’d attempted to assist her. No, this wasnotthe woman’s natural state. What was she up to?
You’ve never wanted to see the worst in people. Now is not the time to start.Belle chided herself for her sudden cynicism. Not everyone was a conniver like Gideon. Nor a schemer like Aunt Vera. After all, what reason could the housekeeper—a silver-haired woman who now limped about with both her cane and Jon’s strong arm to steady her—have to play upon her good nature?
Chapter Eight
Thank goodness ye’rehere... I don’t know what I’d do without ye.
Questioning the veracity of his own ears and eyes, Jon stared down at the gray-curled woman who at that moment leaned upon him for support. When he’d come upon Mrs. Gilroy in the hallway—tangled in a twist of her own skirts as the dog looked on with a vaguely guilty look—she’d been the same cantankerous woman he’d known since he was a lad. How had she moved so quickly from cranky grumblings to saccharine displays of gratitude?
She was up to something. The only question waswhat.
“We should get you to the sitting room,” he urged. “You should be comfortable on the sofa.”
Her expression lost some of its sweetness. “I’m fine right here. Just help me to a seat.” Her brow furrowed. “I should be near the kitchen in case Miss Frost requires assistance.”
“I hardly expect that will be necessary,” he said, realizing his own doubts even as the words left his mouth.
“Ye think not?” Mrs. Gilroy’s wry tone sounded more like the woman he knew.
“At this moment, I don’t know what I think,” he admitted as he assisted Mrs. Gilroy to a chair.
“Mr. Bennett looked concerned,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
“My plan for Miss Frost’s security has hit a snag. Mrs. Johnstone has not yet returned from her European tour.” His gaze settled on Mrs. Gilroy. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I’d heard rumblings when I was out and about.” Her expression became suddenly coy. “Ye’d be surprised how much one can learn at the market.”
“Did you happen to hearrumblingsas to how long she will be out of the country?”
“They say she’s gallivanting about France, studying cooking of all things.”
“A true Renaissance woman.”
Mrs. Gilroy shrugged, her mouth thinning. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Mr. Jameson at the hotel is willing to dedicate a member of his security staff to watch over Miss Frost during her stay. But there is another complication. An Italian soprano is making her debut at the opera house, and the who’s who will be in London to attend her performances. Not a single blasted room is available. Evidently, the situation is the same throughout the city.”
