Page 28 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“You know that won’t be feasible. Not at the moment.” The tension in the back of his neck returned with a vengeance. “I am in the midst of a major negotiation.”
“In that case, I’ll simply have to make the best of it, won’t I?” Mrs. Gilroy tapped her cane to the floor as if to punctuate her thought, then added another perfectly timed wince.
Bloody hell, the guilt. The cagy old woman certainly knew how to drive her point home, didn’t she? Perhaps he should bring her aboard in his most heated contract talks.
“Iwillfigure out a solution,” he said, keeping his tone even as he kneaded the ache in his neck.
“The solution is in the kitchen as we speak.” A gleam lit Mrs. Gilroy’s eyes. “Perhaps there’s good reason why that pretty lass ran smack into ye last night. In all of London, she ran into ye.”
“You’re implying this is fate?”
“Fate. Luck. Call it what ye will,” she said with a sage nod. “I’ve lived long enough to know very little happens by pure chance.”
“This is madness.” He slowly shook his head. “You know that, don’t you?”
Glancing up, he met Belle’s gaze as she returned from the kitchen, a silver tray bearing the breakfast Mrs. Gilroy had prepared in her hands. Her eyes narrowed, if only slightly. Had she overheard their conversation?
“That may well be, but I’m right. And ye know it.” Mrs. Gilroy said, her voice low, yet pointed. “Unless ye have a better idea.”
*
The solution isin the kitchen as we speak.Mrs. Gilroy’s words played in Belle’s thoughts as she sat down to the breakfast the woman had prepared before her unfortunate tanglewith Heathy. Evidently, her suspicion that the housekeeper’s transformation from crabby to molasses-sweet was rooted in an ulterior motive had not been so far-fetched after all. Even if the woman’s plan was entirely well-meaning, the very idea that the housekeeper was speaking about her behind her back chafed a bit.
Unless ye have a better idea. She’d convinced herself Mrs. Gilroy wasn’t a conniver like Aunt Vera. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. Again.
Her ownbetter ideahovered on the tip of her tongue. My, wouldn’t Mrs. Gilroy be shocked if the housekeeper could read her mind?Madness, indeed.
Diverting her thoughts from the twinges of hurt, she focused on Carrie as they made it through the meal. The child had retrieved one of the pillows that had survived Mrs. Gilroy’s encounter with Heathy and now sat comfortably on her cushioned chair. At the moment, the girl was delighting in the taste of a scone with a bit of jam. Truth be told, she seemed to be the only one who was truly enjoying the delicious meal. The atmosphere seemed tense, as if much had been left unspoken in their half-hearted efforts at conversation.
She waited for Carrie to finish her meal before she broached the subject nagging in her thoughts. It wouldn’t do to upset the girl. As for Jon and Mrs. Gilroy, that was another story entirely.
“I couldn’t help but overhear a portion of your earlier discussion,” she said, biting back a smile as he nearly choked on his tea. “As I play a part in a scheme that’s evidently quite mad, I would be in your debt if one of you would tell me precisely what it is that you’re proposing.”
Mrs. Gilroy laced her fingers together and lowered her gaze. For his part, Jon narrowed his eyes, seeming to study her.
“I suspected as much,” he said. “It’s a rare occasion when you utter fewer words during the course of an hour than I have fingers on my hands.”
“Is that so?” she replied. “Perhaps I shall continue to hold my peace until I’m gone from this place.”
He turned to Carrie, his expression softening. “Heathy looks rather bored, wouldn’t you say?” He glanced at the dog curled up on a small braided rug. “Would you take him to the garden to play?”
The girl grinned. “You’ll come along, too?”
“Not quite yet,” he said. When she poked out her lower lip, he added, “I shall join you shortly.”
“Come, Heathy.” The girl plopped from the chair to the floor. Within a few moments, she’d taken the dog from the room, skipping along the way.
“Well, we can speak freely now,” Belle said, noticing the drawn, tense lines on Mrs. Gilroy’s face. “That is, if you might be able to endure my chattering. Luckily for you, I will only remain within range of your ears for a few more hours.”
“Daysis more likely,” he said, reaching for a scone. He slathered it with clotted cream while awaiting her reaction.
She blinked. Surely, she had misunderstood. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Delays have arisen, both at the hotel and regarding your security.”
“Oh, dear.” She took a drink of cool water from her glass. “I had not wished to impose.”
“It goes without saying that you will remain here until secure accommodations can be arranged.”
