Page 31 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
The dog yipped, a uniquely joyful sound. Carrie dropped to her knees to give him a hug. “You’re happy, too. Aren’t you, Heathy?”
Jon plowed a hand through his hair. He’d lost this minor battle. And the look in his eyes told Belle that he knew it. “Very well,” he conceded. “I know when to fold.”
“Interesting. I happen to be rather proficient at cards myself, and I’m feeling confident about this hand I’ve been dealt,” she said, rising to meet his skeptical gaze. “In my life, I’ve met any challenge I’ve faced. And this one will be easy as pie. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Chapter Nine
The dollar princess,the dog, and the tiny dynamo...a combination Jon had never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams. The mix of players had the makings of a comedy of errors he might actually enjoy. If it were not playing out in his home, that is.
Leaning back in his leather wing chair, he resisted the urge to chuckle. Bloody hell, Belle had no idea what she was getting herself into. Her motivation stemmed from a tender heart for the young and the weak and the vulnerable. But the role of governess in this home entailed watching over a tiny whirlwind in curls. His precocious little ward had the sweet face of a young angel, but her energy, strong will, and penchant for mischief might well test the patience of a saint.
At the moment, Carrie and the dog had scurried off to her room. With any luck, she would not resume the creation of pretend pastries, of all the bloody things. At least within the house, he didn’t have to worry about her making a colossal mess. Though he didn’t doubt she might find something else to use in place of the mud that had been her creative medium the day before.
Mud pies.He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the thought. What a ridiculous concept. Three short months earlier, he’d never considered that such a thing might even exist. But there was a silver lining to it all. The child had single-handedly managed to solve his dilemma over the employment of hergoverness. He’d found Miss Pritchard as sour as a ripe lemon, but he’d been loath to consider removing her from the position given the simple fact that he certainly wasn’t capable of running his businessandreining in the rambunctious child. If there was one good thing about the blastedmud pies,they’d been the final straw that had sent the stiff-upper-lipped nanny on her way and, as a result, forced his hand.
He’d assisted Mrs. Gilroy to the sitting room to recline and rest, if only for a few minutes. Knowing her as he did, he doubted she’d stay idle for long. His housekeeper was at least twice his age, but her energy—most likely the product of her desire to oversee every small detail of the daily tasks—might well prevent her from enjoying any significant rest.
Now, behind a not-fully-closed door in his study, he and Belle were alone. Finally. Somehow, it seemed a long time had passed since the carriage ride from the tavern the night before. So much had changed in less than twenty-four hours.
She’d settled upon a small sofa, perusing the daily news. The wool skirt of her suit brushed the floor. The rich blue color suited her, but she appeared a bit uncomfortable in the ensemble. He would have to see to obtaining garments which were more to her preference. But how? She couldn’t be seen gallivanting about town, visiting the fashionable shops and such. He’d have to enlist someone to obtain the garments—someone he could trust. Who would know any blasted thing about women’s clothing? It was a puzzle, but he’d figure it out. After all, he always did.
As she scanned the paper, Belle seemed more at ease, perhaps for the first time since he’d encountered her the night before. This morning, she’d pulled her long, honey-colored hair into a simple braid and secured it with a simple velvet tie. The unadorned style accented her perfect oval face and gentle features. God above, she was every bit as lovely as he remembered. No, he was wrong. With the morning sunstreaming through the window, dancing over her softly etched features, she was even more beautiful.
When she’d taken on the role of governess to little Carrie, he’d wondered if she might be over her head. Suddenly, he knew the question could apply to him as well.
He couldn’t deny he’d had doubts about bringing her here, not even to himself. But damned if he would leave her alone and vulnerable, on the run from a man she evidently feared. He would shield her from the bastard. He’d do whatever it took to protect her.
Blasted shame he’d never found the means to put the memories of her—and what they’d had—behind him. When he’d made the decision to leave New York, he’d made the logical choice. The only choice. Or so he’d convinced himself at the time. But as soon as she’d dashed into theLair, his certainty had crumbled like a child’s sandcastle facing off against the tide.
And now, she was here. In his blasted study, of all places.
Had she sensed him watching her? She lifted her attention from the paper, took a sip of tea, and met his gaze. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Thoughts? So many blasted questions filled his mind. Questions with answers that might cause her distress. It wasn’t the time. Not yet. He’d allow the moment of peace to linger. After what she’d been through, she bloody well deserved it. For now, he’d focus on the present.
“I can’t help but wonder if you have any notion of what you’re getting into by taking charge of my little ward.”
“Ward?” She bit off the word as if it were somehow distasteful. “How very formal. The child is your kin.”
“Indeed, she is. Carrie’s father was my cousin. Fred was a good man, and his wife was one of the kindest souls I’ve ever had the privilege to know.” He stared at the leaded glass in thewindow for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “The child was so young, not quite three, when her parents were killed.”
“She’s quite precocious.”
“Indeed. The girl is exceedingly bright. And even more curious.”
“Children are naturally inquisitive,” Belle countered. “Curiosity is a good thing, is it not?”
“At times,” he said. “But then again, you remember the old saying about curiosity and the cat.”
“Personally, I believe inquisitiveness is a wonderful attribute in a child. Or in an adult, for that matter.” Belle took another sip of tea, seeming to study him. He’d no doubt her last statement was aimed at him.
“I agree,” he said, taking the bait, if only to see the glimmer of surprise in her beautiful eyes. “I consider myself positively overflowing with natural curiosity.”
“You?” She cocked a brow. “I can’t say that I recallthataspect of your personality.”
He lifted one brow in reply to hers. “I don’t know how you failed to notice.”
A slight smile played on her lips. “I shall make a mental note to pay close attention you put your abundant interest in the world into play.”
