Page 8 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
An invisible fist dug into the pit of her stomach. “I’m afraid that is not an option.”
His mouth thinned as he nodded. “If you prefer someone other than me to escort you, I will arrange for a trusted conveyance to see you to wherever you’re staying.”
“It’s not that.” The raw truth felt like a burning in the back of her throat. “You see, at the moment, I have no place to go.”
His forehead furrowed as his dark brows knit together. “Do you care to explain?”
She swallowed against the emotion welling within her. Now that the shock of the afternoon had faded, a dull ache penetrated to the bone. But still, she had her freedom. She would be no one’s fool.
“I was staying at the private residence of a woman I believed to be trusted family.” The grating notes of Gideon’s taunting laughter played in her thoughts. “Suffice it to say, I was mistaken.”
“I assume the situation is complicated,” Jon said.
“That would be an understatement.”
He nodded his understanding. “And your parents? Or your brother?”
“Mama and Papa are in the final weeks of a journey to Egypt. In her last telegram, Mama indicated they were about to embark on a tour of the Nile. Jeremy is happily keeping the family train on the tracks back in New York.”
“So, you are here in the city on your own?”
“For the moment.” She brushed away a flicker of doubt she could not afford to dwell on. “As you can see, I find myself in a bit of a predicament. The same fate that displayed its rather trying sense of humor in bringing me here, of all places, has left me on the streets of London without a shilling—or even a penny, for that matter—to my name.”
“A dollar princess without a penny.” Jon fiddled with his cuff links. “Another first.”
“Well, I see little has changed since we last met. You arestillexasperating.” Belle clipped the words between her teeth.
“Upon that occasion, I believe you used the termvexing. I rather prefer it.”
Belle squared her shoulders. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks. If she were in New York—if she were surrounded by familiar sights and sounds, by family and friends—she would march out of this office and never look back. But the reality of the situation called for a cooler head.
“Exasperating. Irksome. Aggravating. Vexing. Nettlesome.” She came to her feet, planting her hands on her hips. “Take your choice, Mr. Mason.”
The faintest hint of amusement played on his mouth. “I believe you left out ‘confounding.’”
“Indeed.” A smile tugged at her lips, despite her best effort to suppress it.
For a long moment, he appeared to study her. The look of amusement faded, replaced by a far more serious expression.
“So, tell me this, Arabelle... the full truth. A man like Kentsworth is not likely to carry on like a lovestruck schoolboy.” His gaze locked with hers, and he scraped a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw. “Why in blazes is the rotter chasing you all over the city?”
Chapter Three
Good God, sheis a beautiful woman.Even a smudge of dirt on her face, the rain weighing down those long, honey-blonde curls, and an unflattering gown dulled by street grime could not hide that essential truth. Even now—as she glared at him with those gorgeous blue eyes, her rosy mouth taut with a touch of anger—Belle was a true diamond.
Bloody hell, why had he questioned her so bluntly?Why in blazes is the rotter chasing you all over the city?He’d phrased the question too harshly. Even to his own ears, his words came off as brusque. Perhaps even callous. He had not wanted that. He had not wanted to hurt her. Nor to anger her. But now, he’d managed to do both.
Sometimes, even he had to admit he was an absolute arse.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at the scotch in his glass. Murray would soon bring her meal, and perhaps the tension between them might ease. But for now, he took a drink as she uttered a terse reply.
“I’ve already told you.” She glanced away, seeming to study the pattern on his carpet. “We had planned to speak our vows after my parents’ return. But I had a change of heart.”
“There’s nothing more to it?” he pressed.
“Nothing more?” She let out a little sigh, a flicker of anger in her gaze. “Shouldn’t that be enough?”
Jon took another drink. He’d seen the distress on her face, the way the question she posed seemed to cause her pain. “Evidently, not in the bloke’s eyes.”
