Page 6 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
Gideon’s chilling words before she’d fled the townhouse echoed in her thoughts. Belle dropped her gaze to her mud-caked shoes. Could she trust Jon with the whole truth?
Pulling in a low breath, she struggled to calm her thoughts. At this point, she had little reason to have faith in the man. When Jon had rushed her out of sight to his private office, he’d likely reacted out of instinct. Even rogues possessed a degree of gallantry, didn’t they?
But he had no pressing need to know the ugly truth behind Gideon’s pursuit. The less Jon Mason knew, the better.
“In a manner of speaking,” she said without emotion.
Her attention drifted to the dirt on her once-white skirt. The dress had been beautiful, a symbol of her hope for a contented future. Now, hours after she’d stood before the dressmaker who’d sewn the final flourishes of lace on the gown, she could scarcely abide the sight of it. Foolishly, she’d believed Gideon’s performance. She’d thought he’d seen more than her father’s fortune when he looked into her eyes.
How very mistaken she’d been. Thank heaven she’d discovered the truth. Before it was too late.
Jon’s brows knit together, the expression he made when he wasn’t entirely pleased about something or other. Of course, he knew she wasn’t telling him everything. Jon Mason was many things. But a fool was not one of them.
“I’ll see what he’s up to.” Jon’s voice was gruff as he went to the door. “Turn the latch. Do not unlock it for anyone except me.”
A fresh rush of fear washed over her. She swallowed hard against it. “Do be careful.”
“You’ve nothing to worry about,” he said, confident as ever. “I know his kind.”
A knot in Belle’s stomach tightened. “I don’t think you do.”
His gaze met hers and held for a long moment. “I do... better than you know.”
Moments after the door closed behind him, Belle locked the door and went to the window. Concealing herself behind the thick curtain, she peered down to the street below, watching the ordinary comings and goings from the pub and its surrounding enterprises. The torrential rain had stopped, allowing a clear view from her vantage point. Suddenly, she spotted the carriage rumbling along the street. Gideon had gone on his way.
She was safe.
At least, for the moment.
Still, she peered into the night, watching for some sign of the coach’s return. Gideon would not give up so easily. Of that, she had no doubt. Did he intend to search every hotel? Every inn? Any place where she might take refuge?
Gideon knew full well the predicament she faced. When she’d fled her aunt’s home, she’d left nearly everything behind. Clothing. Spending money. Even her cherished, exceedingly worn volume ofPride and Prejudice. All stored within her locked steamer trunk, now well out of her reach in the plush appointed chamber in which she’d stayed as a guest.
She’d likely never see any of those possessions again. At least, not until her parents returned from their expedition to Egypt. Perhaps then, Papa would set the jackals straight. But then again, she didn’t even want Papa to know the truth. She had been so very gullible. Mama would understand the longings of her heart. But Papa... now, he was another story entirely.
Belle toyed nervously with the lace at her throat, her fingertips brushing against the silver chain and paste-jewel pendant she’d carried for good luck. Her grandmother had gifted her the necklace on her thirteenth birthday, and even now, she couldn’t help but smile as her fingers glanced over the faux sapphires. While the necklace would fetch very little in coin, its true value could not be measured. Thank heaven she’d had the presence of mind to snatch the cherished piece from her trunk before she’d made her escape.
A light rap at the door interrupted her thoughts. The low notes of Jon’s voice followed, and she crossed the room and unfastened the latch.
“They’re gone,” he said without emotion.
“Thank heaven.”
“You can thank Murray, the barkeep. He thinks fast on his feet, responded to their questions as though the pair of them were daft, and sent them on their way.”
Belle continued to toy with the necklace. Since she’d been a girl, the very feel of it against her skin had soothed her anxious nerves. “Did they speak with anyone else? Any of the patrons who might’ve seen me?”
“The place was filled with our regular blokes tonight. If anyone spotted you with me, they’d have seen no reason to reveal it to a stranger, a high-and-mighty nob at that.”
“Well, that is a relief.”
“Unfortunately, I suspect it is only a temporary respite.” His blunt tone was somehow comforting, if only for its honesty, its utter lack of artifice.
A twinge of alarm prickled over her skin. “You think they will return?”
“I don’t expect they are about to stop looking. They’ll likely be out until they’ve exhausted the logical possibilities.” Jon went to the cabinet behind his desk, opened a crystal decanter, and poured a splash of liquor into a tumbler. “I would offer you a drink, but I suspect you haven’t yet had a proper supper.”
A proper supper.Goodness, when she’d run from Gideon and the scheming, sweet-faced jackal she’d so foolishly trusted, she hadn’t had time for a hurried bite of a sandwich, let alone an actual meal. She’d had not given any thought to eating, not even when the child so movingly pleaded his hunger. But suddenly, she could not deny her stomach’s own quiet yet insistent pangs.
