Page 7 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Your suspicion would be correct,” she admitted.
He motioned to the plush settee between the window and a towering bookcase. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
She glanced down at her soggy dress and cloak and shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to chance ruining the upholstery.”
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s only rain.”
“Rain... and heaven only knows what else from the street.”
He went to the low chest beneath the window, retrieved a knitted blanket, and splayed it over the cushions. “This sofa has been used for many a year. I suspect it will readily withstand the task of comfortably seating a slightly soggy American.”
She followed him to the settee. “Thank you.” Her fingers went to the fastenings of her cloak. “I suppose I should remove this scratchy thing.”
“That would be wise.” Jon took the cape from her hand. Holding it by the hood as if it were a curiosity, he draped it over a hook on a coat rack. A wry smile played on his mouth.“Somehow, this does not suit your usual tastes. As I recall, you possessed a fondness for fine wool and velvet.” He plucked a wilted white petal from the edge of the collar. “There is a story here.”
“There is,” she agreed wearily. “I convinced a flower peddler to sell it to me.”
Jon eyed the rough-woven wool. “I suspect she got the better of the deal.”
“She was well compensated, but I was exceedingly grateful. I needed something, anything, to conceal this horrid dress.”
His gaze glanced over her from the lace at her throat to the newly ragged hem. He rubbed his chin, looking as if a comment perched on the tip of his tongue. Still studying her, he raked a hand through his hair.
“So, are you going to tell me what in blazes is going on?” he said, eyes narrowing. “Or am I to pretend to enjoy the suspense?”
“It’s quite simple, really.” She forced herself to meet and hold his gaze. “The man intends to acquire a wife. At one point, I thought I was amenable to the idea. But... I’ve had a change of heart.”
“A rather sudden one, I’d say.”
“Not so very sudden,” she admitted. “But my decision to finally follow my instincts came fast as a lightning strike.”
“I must say this is a first—a runaway bride.” His deep brown eyes flashed with interest. “How bloody original.”
“As you can imagine,hewas not pleased.”
Jon rubbed his chin, as if to ease the tense set of his jaw. “Given the questions the high-and-mighty rotter was asking, I’d say it’s not that simple.”
Belle pictured the cold fury in Gideon’s eyes when she’d made it clear she had no intention of spending her life with a cad like him. She gulped against the fresh pain of betrayal. “Whatthat manwants does not signify. Not now.” She pulled back her shoulders and faced him directly. “Not ever.”
“We have some matters to discuss” He gestured to the settee, then took a seat in a leather wing chair and stretched out his long legs. Belle settled onto the cushions and arranged her cumbersome skirts around her.
Seeing the questions in his eyes, Belle squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “I do realize how very unusual this all must seem.”
Especially to a man like Jon. Heaven only knew how much he prided himself on his orderly, methodical approach to life.
“That is one way to phrase it,” he said, his tone confoundingly bland.
“In any case, I didn’t plan to rush in here. And I certainly did not anticipate running into you.” She glanced down at her folded hands. “I realize things did not end well between us.”
He quirked a brow. “As I recall, our parting was amicable.”
Amicable?Belle quirked a brow of her own as she mentally echoed his words. “I suppose that’s one way to phrase it.”
“Fate does indeed possess a sense of humor.” He studied her over steepled fingers. “Or should that be irony?”
“Perhaps a bit of both,” she managed, gathering her thoughts. “Well, I suppose I should get to the point. I really must be on my way. When I took refuge here, it was never my intention to pose a bother, but I’m in a bit of a fix. If I might make one request of you.”
“And what might that be, Arabelle?” he said, enunciating her name with infuriatingly precise manner of his. “Might I see you to your residence?”
