Page 50 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Sadly, I have reason to suspect Aunt Vera did not see it that way.”
Jon’s brows shot up. “What are you saying?”
“Only the truth.” Belle touched the pendant at her throat, steadying herself with the comforting feel of her grandmother’s gift. “Her grief was short-lived. Perhaps curiously so.”
“Are you saying she had something to do with his death?”
Belle shook her head, though after seeing Vera’s true colors, she would not have put it past her aunt to rid herself of anyone who’d stood in the way of her wants.
“I don’t mean to suggest she caused his death. But her time of mourning was brief. Surprisingly so. It wasn’t long before she returned to New York and became the toast of the town. During her last visit, she encouraged me to come to London and stay with her.” She pulled in a low breath. “That was when it all began.”
“Tell me what happened, Belle.” His voice was a low, husky rasp as he caught her hands in his. His touch was warm and gentle, precisely what she needed to ease her through this pain.
“I’d only recently arrived in London when Aunt Vera introduced me to Gideon Kentsworth. At the time, I didn’t realize how perfectly convenient his supposed return to the city had been. She claimed he was an old friend, a distant cousin to her late husband. Looking back, I can see how she carefully orchestrated every interaction I had with the man to prove that we were perfect for one another.”
Perfect.What an utterly absurd word. Her relationship with Gideon had been anything but. From the start, everything she’d believed about the man had been a lie. So much deception. So many illusions.
As he took in her words, Jon set his jaw in a hard line, as if the words were difficult to hear. Perhaps they were. But she supposed he should know the true nature of her feelings towardGideon. She glanced down at her hands, steadied within Jon’s firm hold. So very reassuring. Yet without demand.
“Your aunt deceived you,” he said, his expression speaking louder than his words.
“They both did,” she said. “From the first time we met, Gideon pretended to share my interests. He played his part to a T.” She braced herself to speak the truth. “But even before I discovered his duplicity, there was one problem that could not be overcome.”
“And what was that?”
“He was not the man for me.” Belle stated the truth directly, without hesitation. Meeting Jon’s gaze, she saw the way the tension in his jaw seemed to ease, if only slightly.
Jon’s brow furrowed. “Might I ask why in blazes you were wearing that blasted dress?”
Belle swallowed against a rush of emotion she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. She had never loved Gideon. Not truly. From the start, her doubts had felt like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
“Yesterday morning, I resolved to cry off the engagement. When I told my aunt what I planned to do, she dismissed my reservations as nothing more than cold feet. But I knew better. At that moment, I should have followed my instincts.” She let out a low breath, attempting to clear her head. “But Aunt Vera insisted that the plans should not be altered. Not just yet. I needed more time to think it through, she’d said. And like a fool, I trusted her.”
Jon nodded his understanding. “At that point, you had no reason to doubt her.”
“Honestly, I sensed that something wasn’t quite right... she was a bit too eager for me to marry. I did my best to drown out the nagging little voice in my thoughts. That afternoon, I ventured out to the modiste’s shop for a final fitting of thegown.” Again, her fingers went to her necklace, drawing comfort from the touch. “When I arrived at the shop, I simply could not go through with it. I thanked the dressmaker for her lovely work, instructed her to box up the gown, and took it with me.”
“How in blazes did you come to be wearing it on a dreary London night?”
“I suppose you could attribute that predicament to an unfortunate whim.”
The ridges in his forehead deepened. “A whim?”
“A most poorly timed one, at that,” she said. “You see, when I returned to my aunt’s residence, I found myself alone in the house. As I looked at the ribbon-wrapped parcel that contained a dress I no longer needed or wanted, a peculiar mix of emotions washed over me. The gown was beautiful—or so I’d thought at the time. The design had seemed like something out of a fairy tale. So, I decided to try it on, if only to picture the alterations which might make it suitable for a ball or something of that nature. It seemed a shame to waste such a dress, and you know I’m actually quite practical.”
“That is not a word I might’ve used to describe you. Evidently, I was not witness to that aspect of your nature.” The slightest of wry smiles played on his mouth. “I shall have to take your word for it.”
“I suppose you will,” she said, mustering a prim tone. “In any case, I’d no sooner managed to fasten the last button when I heard my aunt return. But she was not alone. And soon, the shouting started.”
He quirked a brow. “An argument?”
“One might call it that. Aunt Vera had arranged to meet a friend for an early tea, so she had no way of knowing that I had not stayed for the fitting. When she returned, she evidently did not realize I was in the residence and could hear the shrill notes of her voice.”
“Kentsworth was with her?”
“Yes.” The single syllable tasted bitter on her tongue. “At first, I didn’t understand what was happening. I couldn’t make out what she was saying. She sounded agitated, as if she were in a state of sheer panic. I assumed something was wrong and rushed to her bedchamber. The door was closed. But I could hear that she wasn’t in danger.” Belle pulled in a sharp breath. “They were having a lovers’ quarrel.”
“Bloody hell,” Jon muttered under his breath.
