Page 32 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
Ah, there was the Belle he’d known. Her natural wit could charm the most dedicated cynic, while her smile never failed to draw him in.
“Might we talk a bit more about Carrie?” she went on. “I’d like to consider how best to guide her during my stay. Since she has been here with you, what has most captured her interest?”
He mulled the question. The first word that came to mind waseverything.But that certainly was not the answer Belle sought. In the weeks since the girl had arrived at his doorstep—with scarcely twenty-four hours’ notice, no less—he had delegated much of her care to the governess he’d hastily arranged through the agency. Fortunately, Mrs. Gilroy had shown a clear fondness for the girl, her keen eyes and ears watching over the prim Miss Pritchard as the governess conducted her duties. He’d done his best to ensure the girl was well cared for, devoting attention to the child during the rare times when he was not in the office consumed with Mason Enterprise’s most recent endeavor or overseeing the operations at the Rogue’s Lair. He certainly didn’t want to admit he was utterly stymied.
“My little cousin possesses an abundance of interest in the world around her,” he said, vague enough to maintain his truthfulness. “From what I have observed, she is especially drawn to the dog.”
“I noticed that as well,” Belle said with a thoughtful nod. “Not surprising. I adored our family pets.”
“Speaking of pets, you mentioned that you miss Angus.” He gently broached the subject that had been on his mind since the night before. “Did you... lose him?”
“Last year.” Her expression somber, Belle nodded again. “It was so very hard. I’d known he was old and didn’t have much time left, but somehow, that didn’t help. Not at all.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how much he meant to you.” If he were sitting by her side, if it were still his place to hold her, he would take her hand and comfort her. He would do whatever it took to ease her sadness. But nothing in her manner or expression invited his touch. That time had passed.
Like a fool, he’d thrown it all away.
“Now, please, tell me a bit more about Carrie,” she said, bringing his focus back to the moment at hand. “What activities does she prefer?”
“Activities?” Blast it, he was drawing from an empty well on that question. He had no bloody idea. But he didn’t care to admit it.
“I take it she enjoys playing outdoors,” Belle said.
“Well, she does seem to have a fondness for making creations out of the dirt in the garden.”
“Ah, the infamous mud pies,” Belle said, amusement in her tone. “I shall have to be careful to avoid taking a spill like her previous governess.”
“I suspect you could not replicate that scene even if you tried,” he said. That morning, he’d taken a look at where the child had been playing. How in blazes had the stiff-backed governess managed to end up bustle-first in a spot of mud not much larger than a serving platter?
“I’ve learned to never underestimate my own penchant for mishaps,” she said brightly.
“Miss Pritchard’s temperament was not well-suited to caring for a child as spirited as Carrie,” he said. “She did not know how to channel the girl’s energy. Or her intelligence.”
Belle’s expression warmed as she met his gaze. “She sounds like she takes after her cousin.”
“She does. But that cousin isnotme.” He couldn’t help but smile as he pictured his sister and her antics. “Carrie reminds me a great deal of Macie. My sister takes after our mum, free spirit that she is. When she was a girl, I suspect Macie drove more than one of her governesses to imbibe.”
“Oh, you’re exaggerating,” she said lightly.
“Am I?” He reached for his own drink. “Macie and her husband are due back from their recent expedition by the end of the month. I’m sure she’ll verify what I’m saying as the absolute, unvarnished truth.”
“I will definitely enjoy making her acquaintance. If I’m still in London when she returns, that is.”
Still in London.Why did the simple phrase feel like a kick in the gut?
“You’d asked about my little cousin’s preferred activities,” he said, refocusing the conversation, if only to distract himself from the sensations he didn’t want to feel. “Mrs. Gilroy could tell you more on that subject than I can. I do believe she and Carrie are a bit fond of one another.”
“I can see that as well,” Belle agreed. “When I was a child, I enjoyed playing with my dolls. Does Carrie have a favorite?”
“She does have dolls. Quite a few actually,” he said, picturing the carefully packaged delivery that had arrived a week or so earlier. “But I’ve only seen her play with that old cloth doll she’s so fond of. It looks as if it should be destined for the refuse pile.”
Belle’s eyes lit with what looked like a memory. “The rag doll?”
He pictured the simple stitching on its worn linen face. “I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”
“Oh, I call mine Hildy.”
His brow furrowed. “Hildy?”
