Page 26 of The Rogue’s Runaway Bride (Rogue of Her Own #3)

B elle had always enjoyed the twilight. As a girl, when her family spent summers on the shores of Lake Erie, she’d relished the sight of the setting sun over the magnificent lake and the quiet time in the hazy light.

If she closed her eyes, she could remember the cheerful sounds of the frogs and crickets welcoming the night.

But tonight, in the garden of a posh London home as evening shade fell over the city, the sound of her own pulse drowned out the pleasant tones in her memory.

Sitting on the garden bench beside a black cat who appeared to be rather bored, Belle watched as Carrie played in the flower garden.

The girl danced about with a pretty, frilly doll with coal-black hair and a painted-on red mouth, while Heathy scampered about in canine bliss.

Belle smiled at their innocent glee. If only she could find a way to silence her own racing thoughts.

Scandals. Skeletons. Secrets . The words played like a steady drumbeat in her thoughts.

When Ellie had spoken the words, a sense of intrigue had colored her tones.

Oh, Belle understood all too well. Gossip was stirring, even among friends.

Especially when one was only an observer.

But Belle was a participant in this bit of real-life drama.

She’d nearly been caught in a web of Gideon’s making. Thank heaven she’d discovered his deception before it was too late.

Perhaps she should’ve advised Ellie there was no need to seek out her aunt’s expertise on the subject of London’s scoundrels and cheats.

But she hadn’t found the will to tell her the truth.

Not the full truth, at least. Not one word she’d spoken to her new confidant had been a lie.

But even though she trusted Ellie, she hadn’t been able to reveal why she’d fled the man she had planned to marry. The reality was too painful.

Belle’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. Why, she’d never run from anything in her life.

Until Gideon had given her no choice.

She knew his secret. She had seen his duplicity with her own eyes. She had heard his cruel, cutting words. And she knew beyond a doubt that he’d only wanted her as a means to attain a piece of her father’s fortune.

The truth had sent her on a mad dash. She’d had to escape. From him. From the aunt who’d betrayed her. From a future of treachery.

What could Ellie’s aunt possibly know about Gideon that she didn’t?

Drawing in a calming breath, she pushed the unsettling thoughts to the back of her mind and fixed her attention on the child in her care.

She had no experience as a governess, but at this moment, it was just as well.

What Carrie needed most was affection and attention and someone who gave a fig about her.

My, she was a beautiful little girl. With her sparkling dark eyes and chestnut-brown hair, she could see a resemblance to Jon.

Carrie danced about the garden like a little pixie, singing a happy, slightly off-key melody.

In her soft, high-pitched little voice, she made up a tune as she went, blending bits of nursery rhymes together into one lyric. Such a clever child.

Despite the worries running wild in her thoughts, she met Carrie’s innocent smile with one of her own. A smile from the heart.

For a moment, her mind wandered, drawing from the pleasantness of the scene. What would it be like to have a child of her own? A sweet girl with moppet curls who possessed a penchant for mischief. Or a boy with a sly sense of humor and a knack for wrapping his mama around his finger.

Someday.

She smiled to herself, soothing her aching heart with the thought. Someday, she would marry a man who would be the right one for her. Someday.

The steady tap of Mrs. Gilroy’s cane gently brought her back to reality.

“I thought ye’d want to know Mr. Mason has returned home.

” Mrs. Gilroy made her way onto the garden terrace, her expression brightening as she surveyed the scene.

“I see the young lass has learned to amuse herself without making such a mess.”

Belle motioned to the bench. “Won’t you join us?”

A look of surprise flashed over the housekeeper’s features at the invitation. She gave her head a small shake. “I’ve put supper on. I’ll be on my way. I need to tend the stew.”

“How might I assist with the preparations?”

Mrs. Gilroy’s brow creased. “Ye meant what ye said, didn’t ye, lass?”

It was Belle’s turn to be surprised. “About helping out with the daily tasks?”

A faint smile tugged at Mrs. Gilroy’s thin mouth. “After what happened with the soup, I’d wondered if ye’d have second thoughts.”

Belle met the old woman’s smile with one of her own. “I’m not a gambler, but I would wager that won’t be happening again.”

“I’d agree the odds are rather low,” Jon said, strolling onto the terrace. “But I would not rule it out.”

“Perhaps this time you will be the one in the danger zone,” she replied.

“I will hurl myself in front of you to take the brunt of the assault,” he quipped. “After all, I am a gentleman.”

She cocked a skeptical brow. “And so very chivalrous.”

Belle’s gaze swept over him from his neatly clipped dark hair to his polished black boots.

The shadow of new beard drew her eye to the strong lines of his jaw and chin, while his charcoal-gray suit, though tailored for a man in the world of business, could not conceal the power in his lean body.

The cut of his jacket accented the breadth of his shoulders and the power in his muscular arms.

With a blink to clear her thoughts, Belle forced herself to look away, to stop herself from drinking him in. As he neared her on the garden bench, he paused and smiled down at Carrie. He crouched low, holding himself at eye level with the child. “Is that the doll I brought you from Scotland?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “I like her very much.”

“I’m happy to see that.” His grin seemed quite genuine. “You were a good girl for Miss Belle and Mrs. Gilroy today, were you not?”

Carrie nodded again, then slanted Belle a shy look. “Miss Belle read me a story, and I taught my dolly to dance.”

“I did hear your song,” he said, rising to his full height. “You remind me very much...” He raked a hand through his hair and glanced away. “I like to hear you sing.”

Carrie reached out and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “Will you tell me a story tonight?”

“If time permits,” he said, the happiness in his eyes more muted now. He threw Mrs. Gilroy a speaking glance. “Would you be so kind as to see Carrie to her playroom?” He turned his attention to Belle. “Miss Frost and I have an important matter to discuss.”

*

Upon his return from his office, Jon had thought to go about his typical routine.

On most evenings, he would retire to his study, pour two fingers of scotch, and allow himself three-quarters of an hour of peace and quiet reading over the evening edition of the newspaper.

He’d check on the well-being of his young ward and take his supper.

Later, after Carrie was settled in her bed for the night, he would depart for the Rogue’s Lair, where he would remain until late in the night.

With Logan and Finn traveling far from London, he needed to watch over the tavern.

Logically, he knew that Murray, the head barkeep, and the other barkeeps and servers who’d been with the tavern for years were capable of running the place.

But he felt a responsibility to oversee the operations.

But as he arrived home as the sun set on Belle’s first day watching over the child, Jon was struck by an unusual sound.

In recent weeks, he’d grown accustomed to being greeted at the door by a boisterous pup whose tail wagged so furiously, he wondered that the dog possessed the energy to propel it.

At times, he’d been met by a sour-faced governess who looked as if she’d taken a sip of brine.

At others, he’d faced an exasperated housekeeper upon his return.

But he had never walked through the doorway and heard the sound of a moppet singing at the top of her little lungs about Mary’s lamb, Jack’s pail of water, and the demise of a clumsy dolt with an inexplicable penchant for sitting on walls.

He’d followed the cheerful, if less than melodic, song to the garden. Jon had expected to encounter Belle there with his little cousin. But he had not expected to find her looking more beautiful than ever.

In New York, he’d attended balls and galas with Belle.

On those evenings, she’d been garbed in gowns made from the finest silks, her hair arranged in the most stylish fashion with elegant tiaras and fancy jeweled earrings to accent her lovely face.

But now, sitting in the garden before the backdrop of the setting sun, she wore a dress of pale blue fabric, most likely cotton.

The only ornamentation on the dress was a slight bit of lace at the collar.

But the unadorned dress suited her. She didn’t need frills.

Didn’t need yards of ruffles and bustles. Didn’t need jewels.

By thunder, she didn’t need any of it. She was breathtaking. A true diamond.

He’d cleared his throat and made an off-handed remark about the probability of being accidentally doused with soup yet again, if only to cover his own reaction to the sight of her.

And now, they were alone. Mrs. Gilroy had made her way from the garden with Carrie holding her hand, moving at a snail’s pace as she appeared to stall in order to hear what he’d say to Belle.

Moving to the door, he left it slightly ajar. Not that it really mattered. The very fact he was here with Belle was the stuff of scandal. But at least he might persuade himself that he’d tried to protect her good name.

The humor brightening her eyes when he’d first walked onto the terrace had faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Is something wrong?” she asked, holding her voice rather still.