Page 55 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Oh, my, that wouldnotbe the case,” Belle had replied with a half-hearted laugh. “Mother would be utterly horrified if she knew I had lifted so much as a finger in the kitchen.”
“She never taught ye to cook, not even a bit?”
“I’d wager Mama has never so much as boiled water.”
“Well, she might change her tune if she could taste the eggs ye made this morning. The seasoning was just right.”
Belle smiled at the thought of it. Mrs. Gilroy was not one to toss out kind words she did not mean. A sense of accomplishment washed over Belle. She’d done it. She’d actually prepared a meal—at least, part of it. Nowthatwas quite something.
Propping her feet up on a footstool, she opened the book. She’d settled Carrie in for a nap less than a quarter hour earlier, so she should have time to simply relax in the quiet chamber.
Taking in the gentle cadence of the verses, she turned from one page to another. After a brief time had passed with only the steady swoosh of the clock pendulum for company, she began to feel a bit drowsy. Each tick of the second hand lulled her into a peaceful state, until she drifted into that realm that was not quite asleep and not quite awake.
Crash.
The sound of metal colliding with the floor tore Belle from her pleasant rest. She bolted upright on the chaise, meeting Cleo’s unblinking, golden-eyed gaze. The cat had scampered up onto a high shelf, positioning herself with enviable feline skill between a porcelain vase and a stack of books. The vase sat untouched, without so much as a quiver of movement.
The same could not be said for the silver candy dish that had landed on the floor beside the marble-top table it had occupied. The small, shallow bowl seemed to shiver with the force of its landing upon the polished wood planks.
Belle’s attention darted to the culprit.Heathy.He stared up at Cleo, his playful demeanor undeterred by the look of sheer disdain in the cat’s eyes.
She retrieved the silver dish and put it back in place. The bowl appeared to be no worse for wear. Thank heaven Heathy had not plowed into the sideboard, with its abundance of fine crystal that might’ve shattered into a thousand pieces.
She shot Heathy a glance she intended to appear cross, but he was utterly oblivious. Happily wagging his tail, he continued to gaze up at Cleo, as if he might manage to coax the cat down to play.
He was an adorable pup. Truly, he was. Belle couldn’t find it in her heart to be upset with him. He’d only been playing, after all.
Her gaze shifted to the small, white, paw-shaped clumps on the floor leading to the bookshelves. And to the table. She blinked. Was that... could that possibly be... flour?
Turning to the open door, she saw Carrie standing in the hall, peeping inside the room. The child nibbled her lower lip, looking quite concerned.
Belle went to the girl. Her sweet round face was dusted with flour. As was her blue dress. What in the dickens was happening?
“Heathy wanted to play. But Cleo didn’t want to,” Carrie explained, sounding quite rational as she explained the situation. “I hope you are not upset with him.”
“Not at all,” she said truthfully, even as questions formed in her thoughts. “Carrie, I thought you were taking a nap.”
The girl shrugged. “I didn’t want to sleep.”
Belle swiped a bit of the white dust from the child’s cheek.Flour.Just as she’d thought.
“Carrie, why do you have flour on your face?”
Once again, she nibbled her lip. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Oh, dear.Belle suspected she would definitely not like this surprise. “How did you want to surprise me?”
“I wanted to make a pie,” she said. “Not a pretend pie, but a real one.”
Belle held her voice calm. “Will you show me what you made?”
“I didn’t get a chance to make anything.” Carrie raised her hands in a little shrug as Mrs. Gilroy limped toward them. Tears filled the child’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”
“Oh, it is,” Mrs. Gilroy whispered, standing with one hand on her hip and the other on her cane.
Belle’s heart sank. Judging from Mrs. Gilroy’s expression, the mess must be a real humdinger.
“I thought it had begun to snow in her playroom,” the housekeeper added under her breath.
