Page 34 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Are you, now?” He studied her for a moment. Her intentions were good. Of that, he had no doubt. She genuinely wished to be of help. But Arabelle Frost had never had to lift a finger to cook, clean, or care for anyone other than herself. She was a quick study. But who might even be able to teach her?
“Of course,” she said with a little grin. “If only to prove I’m right to a naysayer like you.”
“Naysayer, eh?” He stroked his chin as an idea took shape. “Would you care to make it interesting?”
“Interesting?” she repeated, the grin replaced with a look of intrigue in her dark blue eyes.
“A wager,” he explained. “Or, if you prefer, a challenge.”
“And what might be the terms?”
He met her questioning gaze. “If a week passes and you continue to see no reason for me to bring in a governess from the agency to relieve you, I will donate to whichever of your charities you choose.”
A smile played on her beautiful mouth. “I assume you’re proposing a generous donation.”
“Quite substantial,” he agreed.
“And if, by some chance, I should lose this wager, we both know I have no money at the moment.” Her brow furrowed. “What would you propose to receive as my forfeit?”
“What I’m thinking will not require so much as a penny from your purse.”
The furrows deepened. “Then what?” She looked puzzled rather than wary. At least she still trusted him not to be an utterscoundrel, even now. That was something to be thankful for, at least.
“I shall expect to taste a delicious slice of your culinary specialty, an apple pie baked by you.” He resisted the urge to grin. “For me.”
Chapter Ten
Belle’s first morningas a governess—or teacher, or whatever title she wanted to claim—left her convinced she was made for the role. It wouldn’t be long before Jon would see he had no chance of winning his wager. All she’d need to do was decide upon the charity which would receive his generous support. He’d departed for his office within minutes after he’d proposed the bet which now seemed certain to cost him a pretty penny. Such a shame he could not witness how very mistaken he’d been.
Her first hours with her new charge flowed so smoothly, Belle wondered why she’d ever had the slightest doubt. Carrie embraced the arrival of her new governess. The child was clever and cooperative, and evidently someone had taught the girl to watch her manners. Perhaps the not-so-endearing Miss Pritchard had performed a useful function in spite of her unceremonious exit. All in all, Belle’s new role seemed an utter delight.
Pity Belle could not say the same of the hours immediately after morning had passed.
The afternoon had begun uneventfully. Mrs. Gilroy had put on a kettle of soup earlier that day. By noon, the savory aroma of herbs and well-seasoned chicken wafted through the air. When Mrs. Gilroy ventured into the kitchen to prepare their midday meal, Belle went with her, intent on lending a hand.
The housekeeper dished up the piping hot soup. “Do be careful to wait for the broth to cool before ye serve the weelass,” Mrs. Gilroy advised as she placed two bowls on the serving platter.
With a nod of understanding, Belle reached for the bowl Mrs. Gilroy had left on the counter, but the housekeeper gave a brisk shake of her head. “I’ll be taking mine in the kitchen.”
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Belle asked. “I was hoping we might chat a bit.”
The housekeeper’s lips thinned. “Miss Pritchard did not think it proper for me to dine with the girl.”
My, what a persnickety woman Carrie’s previous governess must be.“Well, she didn’t know what she was talking about, now did she?” Belle said. “I do hope you’ll reconsider, Mrs. Gilroy. After all you’ve done to prepare this delicious meal.”
“Ye’re sure of that?”
“Of course.” Belle mulled the question whispering in the back of her thoughts. “Might I ask what Mr. Mason thought of the governess’s request?”
“I doubt he knew anything about it. He’s so consumed with this deal he’s working on, he’s seldom been in the residence for his meals. The man works himself to the bone, don’t ye know?” A hint of sadness tinged her voice at the revelation. “But if he’d found out, I do suspect he’d have thought it rubbish.”
A sense of relief washed over Belle. At least Jon did not appear to secretly be a horrid snob.
“I didn’t know if ye’d feel the same as she did,” Mrs. Gilroy went on. A thin smile pulled at her mouth. “I suspected ye would not.”
“Well then, we shall enjoy a stimulating conversation,” Belle said. “There’s so much I’d like to know about Carrie.”
“I can’t say as I’ve much to tell ye that ye don’t already know, but I’ll try.”
