Page 30 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
She hiked her chin. “In that case, I fail to see the problem.”
“I would imagine you drove your own governesses to distraction,” he went on. “There’d certainly be a cosmic irony in the reversal of the roles.”
“I will admit to driving one—and only one—governess to her wit’s end. As I recall, she was a rather strict shrew of a woman. Suffice it to say, she did not bring out the best in me.” She squared her shoulders. “As for the others, they were pleased with my efforts. I was an excellent student.”
“This has nothing to do with your qualifications.” The glimmer of amusement fading from his eyes, he shook his head. “The very idea is unthinkable. I can only imagine your father’s reaction at the very thought of you conducting yourself as a member of the staff.”
“You’re right. It might well be unthinkable, especially when you put it like that.” An image of her father’s expression upon discovering her new role—in Jon’s household, no less—flickered into her thoughts, and she could not help but smile. This might prove interesting, indeed.
“Say you’ll stay,” Carrie looked up at her with beseeching brown eyes. “Please.”
Ah, the little girl knew what she was doing, didn’t she? The soft plea in her words tore at Belle’s heart. Ruffling the girl’s curly brown hair with her fingertips, she marveled that she was even giving thought to the notion. Perhaps Jon was right. Perhaps the idea that she would watch over this child, even for a short time, was ever so slightly mad.
A short time.Belle pondered her dilemma. Her stay in this house—in Jon’s home, sleeping within a stone’s throw of his bed... within a stone’s throw ofhim—would be brief. Heaven knew even a few days would stir memories she did not want to face, emotions she did not want to feel. And even more importantly, was it fair to thrust the child into a situation inwhich she’d have to face watching someone she cared for walk away—again?
“Please stay,” Carrie said in an earnest little voice. “I won’t be any trouble. I promise,” she threw in for good measure.
Trouble.The implication in the word pierced Belle like a thorn. The pinched-faced governess who’d made a blessedly few weeks of her young life miserable had used that word to describe Belle on a near-daily basis. Fortunately, her mother had taken note of the woman’s mean spirit and sent her packing. But would Jon even be around to notice a governess instilling a sense of shame in the child?
Mrs. Gilroy’s mouth thinned as she slowly nodded, her expression confirming the direction of Belle’s thoughts. Her forehead furrowed in a look of surprise as Jon bent down and took the girl’s small hand in his. So, he’d also grasped the undertone of the girl’s promise.
“Carrie, you could never be trouble,” Jon said, meeting her sad-eyed gaze. “You’re a good girl. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“But Miss Pritchard . . .”
He gave his head a hearty shake. “Miss Pritchard evidently ate something quite sour one day. Unfortunately, it turned her into a pickle,” he said, his expression warming at the sound of the girl’s giggle. “But let’s keep that our secret, shall we?”
“Yes, we shall,” the girl said with a wide grin.
Mrs. Gilroy’s smile was the first look of true happiness Belle had observed on the old woman’s careworn features. The housekeeper obviously cared for the child’s well-being. And for some reason Belle couldn’t entirely puzzle out, the woman trusted her.
Governess?She mentally dismissed that title in favor of another she much preferred.Teacher.Why, yes, that would do nicely.
Goodness, what would be the harm in it?
She might as well make the most of her time here. She would enjoy teaching Carrie about the beauty of nature and art and the fairy tales she’d loved as a girl. And if she was watching over the girl, perhaps—just perhaps—she’d be too preoccupied with her young charge to allow her thoughts to wander to the child’s too-blasted-handsome guardian.
“As a guest in this home, I see no reason why I might not instruct the girl in proper manners and such while I’m here. Governess or not—such a title does not matter to me. Not one whit. Call it whatever you will,” she said, summoning a resolute tone.
“Yes!” Carrie bounced excitedly to her feet.
She turned to the housekeeper. “And while I’m at it, should Mrs. Gilroy require a bit of assistance with her responsibilities while she is recuperating, I am certainly capable of lending a hand. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Belle smiled at the undisguised surprise on Jon’s features. He regarded her for a long moment, seeming to weigh his words carefully. “Am I to believe you actually intend to cook?”
“Of course,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she was in that moment. After all, it wasn’t as if she’dneverprepared a meal. She was known for the delightful little finger sandwiches she’d bring to the meetings of the ladies’ garden club. Well, she hadn’t actuallymadethe sandwiches. But she’d certainly taken note of the process her cook followed in putting the cucumber and bread together in such a tasty manner.
His brow furrowed. “And clean?”
“My apartment in Manhattan was spotless.”Surely, he had not forgotten that.
“As I recall, you employed a maid.”
She folded her arms at the waist and met his narrow-eyed gaze. “I tidied up... on her days off.”
“You truly think you know what you’re getting into, don’t you?” Was that a smile curving his full mouth? Or a smirk?
“You should remember that I accomplish most everything I set my mind to.” As she spoke, the dog trotted over, begging for a bit of attention. Crouching down, she tousled his slightly shaggy fur. “Heathy, I do believe I’m going to enjoy getting to know you.”
