Page 16 of The Rogue’s Runaway Bride (Rogue of Her Own #3)

He turned to Carrie, his expression softening. “Heathy looks rather bored, wouldn’t you say?” He glanced at the dog curled up on a small braided rug. “Would you take him to the garden to play?”

The girl grinned. “You’ll come along, too?”

“Not quite yet,” he said. When she poked out her lower lip, he added, “I shall join you shortly.”

“Come, Heathy.” The girl plopped from the chair to the floor. Within a few moments, she’d taken the dog from the room, skipping along the way.

“Well, we can speak freely now,” Belle said, noticing the drawn, tense lines on Mrs. Gilroy’s face. “That is, if you might be able to endure my chattering. Luckily for you, I will only remain within range of your ears for a few more hours.”

“ Days is more likely,” he said, reaching for a scone. He slathered it with clotted cream while awaiting her reaction.

She blinked. Surely, she had misunderstood. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“Delays have arisen, both at the hotel and regarding your security.”

“Oh, dear.” She took a drink of cool water from her glass. “I had not wished to impose.”

“It goes without saying that you will remain here until secure accommodations can be arranged.”

She pulled in a low breath, taking him in. The coolness in his voice seemed unfamiliar. Not at all as she remembered.

“My, I don’t recall you sounding... so very formal.”

He studied her for a long moment, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. But then, the words came. Very civilized. And so very cold. “Last night, I gave my word that I would keep you safe. I meant what I said.”

Belle met his dark gaze. How many lonely nights had she lain in her bed, longing to look into those eyes again?

Yearned to graze her fingertips along the hard edge of his jaw.

To drink in the heat of his body, so close to hers she could feel each beat of his heart.

And now she was here with him. Near enough to touch. Near enough to kiss.

But somehow, Jon had changed. This oh-so-proper man who spoke with the same cool lack of emotion as her father’s lawyers was not the one she’d dreamed of all those nights.

“That’s quite noble,” she said. “But I never intended to stay under your roof. Not for more than one night.” She squared her shoulders. “There must be somewhere... somewhere else for me to go.”

“Arabelle, I will not see you in harm’s way.”

Arabelle. Once, she’d loved the way he pronounced her given name, uttering each syllable in a manner that seemed nearly a caress.

But now, he clipped the words between his teeth, the sound nothing like the velvety tones he’d used all that time ago, when they were alone beneath the stars in Central Park.

“No.” She gave her head a brisk shake, as if that might clear it, even as the slight ache in the vicinity of her heart told her she was in danger.

She had to leave this house. Had to leave him.

Before the bone-deep need flared again. “I simply cannot stay here.” She gulped air.

“I will not impose upon your good nature. Not you, of all people.”

“Miss Frost, if I may be so bold...’tis no inconvenience,” Mrs. Gilroy spoke up, even as Jon shot her a speaking glance. “Truth be told, if ye would stay on for a bit, ye might be a great help. To me.” Her voice gained strength with each word. “And the wee lass.”

My, the old woman had gumption, didn’t she? Her boldness intrigued Belle. “You’re referring to the mad notion?”

“She is,” Jon said.

“Something else occurs to me,” Mrs. Gilroy went on.

“I don’t doubt one of the nosy biddies around here will soon realize there’s a young woman at this residence.

I’d imagine Miss Frost will want to go into the garden, if only for some fresh air.

Ye’d be amazed at how fast the talk will travel.

But if I can explain her presence, if I can say she’s the new governess, no one will puzzle out her identity.

Miss Pritchard made a show of leaving. It would make perfect sense to say that Miss Frost is her replacement. ”

My, the woman was quick on her feet, wasn’t she? Belle sent her a glance of admiration. “That would quell the gossip, wouldn’t it?” she agreed.

She turned to Jon just as his attention darted to the sight of the dog—now decked out with flowers adorning his silver collar—trotting back into the room with Carrie close behind. “And you will see that I am right. It is, indeed, mad.”

Cutting a direct path to Belle, the girl presented her with a vibrant blossom she’d plucked from the garden. “Heathy wants you to have this,” Carrie said with a wide smile. “He wants you to stay.”

“Carrie, that is simply not possible.” Jon’s voice was gruff yet gentle as he reached for the child.

Even as he spoke, Mrs. Gilroy gestured to the child. “She’s taken to ye, Miss Frost,” she whispered. “Now that is not madness. Not in my book.”

“Please, say you’ll be my new nanny,” Carrie said, proudly offering another freshly plucked flower.

Jon lifted the girl up and settled her back onto her cushioned chair. “Miss Frost is a guest in this house. She is most definitely not your governess.”

Belle pulled in a breath. Perhaps Jon was right. Perhaps the notion that she might actually watch over this child was indeed ever so slightly mad.

Mrs. Gilroy sent her a look and a nod, an unspoken conversation Belle instinctively understood.

The child needed someone to care for her.

Jon was obviously quite fond of the little girl, but he was.

.. well, he was Jon. He had his responsibilities.

He had his business ventures. In his life, he’d left little room for anything else.

In her heart, she knew that truth, far better than most.

Perhaps the idea was not so very mad. Not at all. For a time, at least, she could be there for this bubbly yet sad-eyed little girl.

“Not yet,” Belle said, relishing the look of surprise in his eyes as she countered his words.

One of his dark brows hitched. “It would never work.”

“You’re quite sure of that, aren’t you?” Belle challenged. “To tell the truth, I’d often thought I might enjoy the duties.”

A spark that looked like amusement played on his mouth. “You, my dear Miss Frost, are unlike any nanny I’ve ever known.”

Something in his tone chafed at her. For so very long, men had underestimated her. If she wished to become a governess, she certainly possessed the necessary qualities.

“I would be unlike any governess you’ve known. That much is certain.” She flashed a smile. “I am equally certain that it would, as you put it, work. I’ll have you know my training in etiquette is top-notch.”

He shrugged. “I don’t doubt that.”

She hiked her chin. “In that case, I fail to see the problem.”

“I would imagine you drove your own governesses to distraction,” he went on. “There’d certainly be a cosmic irony in the reversal of the roles.”

“I will admit to driving one—and only one—governess to her wit’s end. As I recall, she was a rather strict shrew of a woman. Suffice it to say, she did not bring out the best in me.” She squared her shoulders. “As for the others, they were pleased with my efforts. I was an excellent student.”

“This has nothing to do with your qualifications.” The glimmer of amusement fading from his eyes, he shook his head. “The very idea is unthinkable. I can only imagine your father’s reaction at the very thought of you conducting yourself as a member of the staff.”

“You’re right. It might well be unthinkable, especially when you put it like that.” An image of her father’s expression upon discovering her new role—in Jon’s household, no less—flickered into her thoughts, and she could not help but smile. This might prove interesting, indeed.

“Say you’ll stay,” Carrie looked up at her with beseeching brown eyes. “Please.”

Ah, the little girl knew what she was doing, didn’t she?

The soft plea in her words tore at Belle’s heart.

Ruffling the girl’s curly brown hair with her fingertips, she marveled that she was even giving thought to the notion.

Perhaps Jon was right. Perhaps the idea that she would watch over this child, even for a short time, was ever so slightly mad.

A short time. Belle pondered her dilemma.

Her stay in this house—in Jon’s home, sleeping within a stone’s throw of his bed.

.. within a stone’s throw of him —would be brief.

Heaven knew even a few days would stir memories she did not want to face, emotions she did not want to feel.

And even more importantly, was it fair to thrust the child into a situation in which she’d have to face watching someone she cared for walk away—again?

“Please stay,” Carrie said in an earnest little voice. “I won’t be any trouble. I promise,” she threw in for good measure.

Trouble. The implication in the word pierced Belle like a thorn.

The pinched-faced governess who’d made a blessedly few weeks of her young life miserable had used that word to describe Belle on a near-daily basis.

Fortunately, her mother had taken note of the woman’s mean spirit and sent her packing.

But would Jon even be around to notice a governess instilling a sense of shame in the child?

Mrs. Gilroy’s mouth thinned as she slowly nodded, her expression confirming the direction of Belle’s thoughts. Her forehead furrowed in a look of surprise as Jon bent down and took the girl’s small hand in his. So, he’d also grasped the undertone of the girl’s promise.

“Carrie, you could never be trouble,” Jon said, meeting her sad-eyed gaze. “You’re a good girl. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“But Miss Pritchard . . .”

He gave his head a hearty shake. “Miss Pritchard evidently ate something quite sour one day. Unfortunately, it turned her into a pickle,” he said, his expression warming at the sound of the girl’s giggle. “But let’s keep that our secret, shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” the girl said with a wide grin.

Mrs. Gilroy’s smile was the first look of true happiness Belle had observed on the old woman’s careworn features. The housekeeper obviously cared for the child’s well-being. And for some reason Belle couldn’t entirely puzzle out, the woman trusted her.

Governess? She mentally dismissed that title in favor of another she much preferred. Teacher. Why, yes, that would do nicely.

Goodness, what would be the harm in it?

She might as well make the most of her time here.

She would enjoy teaching Carrie about the beauty of nature and art and the fairy tales she’d loved as a girl.

And if she was watching over the girl, perhaps—just perhaps—she’d be too preoccupied with her young charge to allow her thoughts to wander to the child’s too-blasted-handsome guardian.

“As a guest in this home, I see no reason why I might not instruct the girl in proper manners and such while I’m here. Governess or not—such a title does not matter to me. Not one whit. Call it whatever you will,” she said, summoning a resolute tone.

“Yes!” Carrie bounced excitedly to her feet.

She turned to the housekeeper. “And while I’m at it, should Mrs. Gilroy require a bit of assistance with her responsibilities while she is recuperating, I am certainly capable of lending a hand. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Belle smiled at the undisguised surprise on Jon’s features. He regarded her for a long moment, seeming to weigh his words carefully. “Am I to believe you actually intend to cook?”

“Of course,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she was in that moment.

After all, it wasn’t as if she’d never prepared a meal.

She was known for the delightful little finger sandwiches she’d bring to the meetings of the ladies’ garden club.

Well, she hadn’t actually made the sandwiches.

But she’d certainly taken note of the process her cook followed in putting the cucumber and bread together in such a tasty manner.

His brow furrowed. “And clean?”

“My apartment in Manhattan was spotless.” Surely, he had not forgotten that.

“As I recall, you employed a maid.”

She folded her arms at the waist and met his narrow-eyed gaze. “I tidied up... on her days off.”

“You truly think you know what you’re getting into, don’t you?” Was that a smile curving his full mouth? Or a smirk?

“You should remember that I accomplish most everything I set my mind to.” As she spoke, the dog trotted over, begging for a bit of attention. Crouching down, she tousled his slightly shaggy fur. “Heathy, I do believe I’m going to enjoy getting to know you.”

The dog yipped, a uniquely joyful sound. Carrie dropped to her knees to give him a hug. “You’re happy, too. Aren’t you, Heathy?”

Jon plowed a hand through his hair. He’d lost this minor battle. And the look in his eyes told Belle that he knew it. “Very well,” he conceded. “I know when to fold.”

“Interesting. I happen to be rather proficient at cards myself, and I’m feeling confident about this hand I’ve been dealt,” she said, rising to meet his skeptical gaze. “In my life, I’ve met any challenge I’ve faced. And this one will be easy as pie. Wouldn’t you agree?”