Page 23 of The Rogue’s Runaway Bride (Rogue of Her Own #3)

“Jon claims his sister is the cause of each and every gray hair on his head. Not that he has that many. They make him look rather distinguished. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose they do.” Belle fought a smile as her imagination flashed back to her dark-haired, silver-templed pirate.

Ellie placed Heathy on the floor and sorted through the trunk again, bringing out an ivory linen blouse with long puffed sleeves. “What do you think? It complements the suit.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

The minutes passed pleasantly as Ellie continued to pass her garments for her approval—dresses and nightdresses and undergarments and shoes.

Donning a tweed skirt and jacket with a white pristine linen blouse, Belle studied her reflection in the mirror.

The events of the past days had not changed her.

Not on the surface, at least. But a sudden realization stilled her.

My goodness, she’d been born into such good fortune, and she’d taken it for granted, hadn’t she?

Now, that had changed. And she doubted she could ever go back to the blithe innocence she’d felt never having to worry over things.

Never having to worry about a good, solid roof over her head, surrounded by people who loved her.

Never having to feel the slightest pangs of hunger and to fear that she’d have nowhere to go.

And now, it was as if that naivete had been shattered.

After she’d made her mad dash away from Gideon’s grasp, she’d had a small taste of what it felt like to be without resources.

She’d been tired and hungry and without a penny on her person.

She had never felt so very alone in her life.

If she hadn’t rushed through the door of the tavern and straight into Jon, what might have come next?

Would she have been forced to take refuge in some dank alley?

Might she have encountered another man that night, one without Jon’s innate sense of honor?

The mere thought of it brought a chill creeping over her nape.

Since girlhood, she had never wanted for anything.

Anything material, that was. She’d always possessed beautiful things.

And in such abundance. Her mahogany armoire at home was nearly popping at the hinges with gowns and dresses and skirts and blouses, garments for every occasion one might imagine.

And of course, she owned shoes and custom-made hats and beaded reticules to complement each ensemble.

For so long, she’d felt appreciation for the lovely wardrobe her father’s wealth had afforded her.

In a sense, it seemed an utterly natural aspect of life as her father’s daughter.

But she’d never had to face the feeling of needing and not having.

Oh, she’d certainly felt compassion for those in need.

She was known for her good deeds, wasn’t she?

The charity galas she’d sponsored—lavish events at magnificent ballrooms where society types showed off their elegant gowns and finest jewels—had raised generous donations for orphans and widows and those who needed a helping hand.

But she’d never tried to see things through their eyes.

Not truly. Only now had she’d gotten a tiny, fleeting glimpse of what it felt like to rely on the kindness of others.

“What do you think of the tweed?” Ellie’s question pulled Belle from her thoughts. “I think the pattern is subtle.”

“I agree.” Belle smoothed out a wrinkle in the snowy white linen blouse. “It’s quite appealing.”

Ellie looked rather pleased with herself. “It would appear we possess a similar fashion sense.”

“I do agree. Every garment you’ve selected is lovely.”

“I must confess I was a bit nervous when Jon reached out to me for assistance. I’d never selected clothing for anyone but myself. The message his assistant brought made it seem rather like a covert mission. But that would be Jon. Even as a lad, he had a plan for everything.”

“So I’ve seen.” Belle could not help but offer a knowing smile.

“You can imagine my excitement to be given carte blanche to select whatever I thought would suit you, and on his personal account, no less. The shop assistant at his store was ever so helpful, but the woman’s eyes were wide as saucers when I requested a large trunk for my purchases.”

“It is rather hefty.”

“Jon tasked one of his employees with transporting it here.” Ellie tapped her fingers against the elegant domed steamer trunk.

“Thankfully, the driver was a strapping man, all brawn and muscles. Pity you didn’t have the opportunity to observe him lifting it in and out of the coach.

I must say, he accomplished the task with the utmost efficiency. ”

“Brawn and muscles . . . he sounds quite capable.”

“ Exceedingly capable, I’d say.” The look in Ellie’s eyes hinted at an unspoken meaning.

“I do wonder if the shop assistants really believed the items in that trunk were selected on Macie’s behalf, or if they’d formed a far different notion.

One of the women was ever so pleasant, but she was something of a busybody, crinkling her nose a bit skeptically at times.

I wouldn’t doubt she suspected Jon was purchasing the items for me.

Now that might be true fuel for the gossips. ”

Belle studied her for a moment. Could it be that Ellie was actually pleased at the thought?

“I do hope you’re not drawn into the rumor mill.”

“To the contrary, a little scandal would be just the thing. For me, at least.” Ellie retrieved a pair of high-top black shoes from the trunk and presented them to Macie.

“In my experience, few things better enhance a woman’s appeal to the male of the species than the notion of a desirable rogue having eyes for her. ”

“I take it there is a certain male of the species you have in mind?”

Ellie nodded. “I’ve had my sights set on him since I returned from Paris. He’s an American, like you.”

“You don’t say.”

“As I understand it, he’s from Texas. Very tall. Very handsome. And very wealthy.”

“He sounds perfect.” For Ellie.

“I’ve only met him in passing, so he could be quite a grouch behind that dashing smile. Rather like Jon these days.”

Belle tugged at the laces on the supple new shoes as Ellie’s words repeated in her thoughts. Rather like Jon. How very curious.

“You know him well, don’t you?” Belle asked, eager for some insight into the man who suddenly saw himself as her protector.

Ellie pursed her lips, appearing to ponder the question. “I’m not sure I would phrase it that way. I’ve known Jon Mason for quite a long time, but I’m not sure anyone except Macie and his business partners, Logan and Finn, know the true man.”

“I do believe I understand.”

“Some men are simple,” Ellie said. “Oh, they may be keenly intelligent. But there’s no mystery. Nothing to puzzle out about their feelings and wants and needs. That certainly isn’t Jon. From what I’ve observed, he is precisely the opposite.”

“I’d say that’s a fair assessment,” Belle agreed.

“You may know him better than I do.” Ellie paused long enough to hand her another pair of shoes, soft slippers for the house, then went on.

“Over the years, I came to know Jon through my friendship with Macie. When I was a gangly young girl, he was kind to me, rather like the brother I’d never had.

After we grew up, I think Macie might’ve harbored a hope that there could be more between her brother and me.

But there was never the slightest spark. ”

A sense of relief Belle did not wish to admit, even to herself, washed over her at Ellie’s words. “Tell me, Ellie, was he always so... serious?”

“No, not when we were young. Back then, Jon and Logan and Finn were like the Three Musketeers, always getting into some adventure or scrape. But then, they grew up. And Jon became the son his father wanted.”

Picturing the young boy in the photograph, Belle took in Ellie’s words. In that image, Jon had appeared far from mischievous. “I’d think his father would appreciate his unwavering dedication to the family business.”

“I cannot speak to that. But I do know that Jon has set his mind to living up to his father’s standards.

But believe me when I say, it’s a near-impossible task.

” Ellie selected a soft flannelette nightdress and robe from the collection she’d brought and handed them to Belle.

“But enough of that. Let’s enjoy this bit of shopping without a store, shall we? ”

Belle gave a nod of agreement. “I must say, I’m amazed you’ve brought so many garments. There are far more than I’ll need for my stay. I do appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

“I enjoyed every moment. Why, I’d do it again tomorrow if I could, if only to see that gorgeous man carry the trunk with all those muscles flexing.” Ellie flashed a grin. “That would really get the shopgirls talking, now, wouldn’t it?”

“I do imagine a repeat day of purchases so soon after the last would draw some attention.”

“The assistant’s eyes would be wide as serving platters.” Her grin faded to a more subtle smile. “Of course, there is a chance the employees will talk, even amongst themselves, about my visit today. Jon won’t like that at all. He so detests a scandal.”

Belle gulped a breath at the thought. Jon’s pragmatic words in the carriage whispered in her thoughts. What’s the worst that could happen... a proposal of marriage?

She let out the air hovering in her throat with a little sigh. “With any luck, it won’t cause a stir.”

“Indeed. With luck.” A coy little smile played on Ellie’s mouth. “But it does occur to me that something rather curious has happened. Something quite unexpected.”

“You aren’t going to keep me in suspense, are you?” Belle said. “You must tell me.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t see it,” Ellie said cryptically. “But then again, I suppose it did take me a bit of time to realize what he’d done.”

“What he’s done?” Belle searched for the answer to this peculiar puzzle. “I am truly at a loss.”

“It’s rather elementary, really. Jon avoids scandal at every turn. Surely the man understood the potential for, shall we say, raised eyebrows at a shopping excursion he personally funded. But he was willing to take that chance.” She met Belle’s gaze. “For you.”