Page 28 of The Rogue’s Runaway Bride (Rogue of Her Own #3)

W e cannot allow her to leave. Belle’s father will destroy me. And you... you will return to your bored widows and penny schemes.

Her aunt’s treacherous warning to Gideon echoed in Belle’s mind. Even now, the cold contempt in Vera’s calm, precise tone rippled a chill over her skin. Allowing herself a slow, calming breath, she met the questions in Jon’s dark eyes.

“You know of Lady Vera Willsbury, do you not?” she began.

His brow furrowed. “We have met in passing, at some infernal ball or another.”

“She is my aunt, though not by blood. Vera wed my father’s brother many years ago.

At the time, I was a girl about Carrie’s age.

” Belle pictured the woman she had once thought the world of, so vibrant and beautiful with a cascade of coppery red hair.

“I always looked forward to her visits. Her arrival at our home always brought some new excitement. She would teach me something new—a fancy braid, a clever way to bring color to my cheeks, the latest in fashion from Paris. But then, my uncle suffered a heart attack, and Vera was left a widow. It wasn’t long before she married an Englishman and moved to London.

Years went by with only the occasional card or letter in the post. Until her husband collapsed at his club. ”

“As I recall, Lord Willsbury was not at an advanced age when he died,” Jon said. “He was an upstanding man. Bloody shame, really.”

“Sadly, I have reason to suspect Aunt Vera did not see it that way.”

Jon’s brows shot up. “What are you saying?”

“Only the truth.” Belle touched the pendant at her throat, steadying herself with the comforting feel of her grandmother’s gift. “Her grief was short-lived. Perhaps curiously so.”

“Are you saying she had something to do with his death?”

Belle shook her head, though after seeing Vera’s true colors, she would not have put it past her aunt to rid herself of anyone who’d stood in the way of her wants.

“I don’t mean to suggest she caused his death.

But her time of mourning was brief. Surprisingly so.

It wasn’t long before she returned to New York and became the toast of the town.

During her last visit, she encouraged me to come to London and stay with her.

” She pulled in a low breath. “That was when it all began.”

“Tell me what happened, Belle.” His voice was a low, husky rasp as he caught her hands in his. His touch was warm and gentle, precisely what she needed to ease her through this pain.

“I’d only recently arrived in London when Aunt Vera introduced me to Gideon Kentsworth.

At the time, I didn’t realize how perfectly convenient his supposed return to the city had been.

She claimed he was an old friend, a distant cousin to her late husband.

Looking back, I can see how she carefully orchestrated every interaction I had with the man to prove that we were perfect for one another. ”

Perfect. What an utterly absurd word. Her relationship with Gideon had been anything but. From the start, everything she’d believed about the man had been a lie. So much deception. So many illusions.

As he took in her words, Jon set his jaw in a hard line, as if the words were difficult to hear. Perhaps they were. But she supposed he should know the true nature of her feelings toward Gideon. She glanced down at her hands, steadied within Jon’s firm hold. So very reassuring. Yet without demand.

“Your aunt deceived you,” he said, his expression speaking louder than his words.

“They both did,” she said. “From the first time we met, Gideon pretended to share my interests. He played his part to a T.” She braced herself to speak the truth. “But even before I discovered his duplicity, there was one problem that could not be overcome.”

“And what was that?”

“He was not the man for me.” Belle stated the truth directly, without hesitation. Meeting Jon’s gaze, she saw the way the tension in his jaw seemed to ease, if only slightly.

Jon’s brow furrowed. “Might I ask why in blazes you were wearing that blasted dress?”

Belle swallowed against a rush of emotion she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. She had never loved Gideon. Not truly. From the start, her doubts had felt like a rock in the pit of her stomach.

“Yesterday morning, I resolved to cry off the engagement. When I told my aunt what I planned to do, she dismissed my reservations as nothing more than cold feet. But I knew better. At that moment, I should have followed my instincts.” She let out a low breath, attempting to clear her head.

“But Aunt Vera insisted that the plans should not be altered. Not just yet. I needed more time to think it through, she’d said. And like a fool, I trusted her.”

Jon nodded his understanding. “At that point, you had no reason to doubt her.”

“Honestly, I sensed that something wasn’t quite right.

.. she was a bit too eager for me to marry.

I did my best to drown out the nagging little voice in my thoughts.

That afternoon, I ventured out to the modiste’s shop for a final fitting of the gown.

” Again, her fingers went to her necklace, drawing comfort from the touch.

“When I arrived at the shop, I simply could not go through with it. I thanked the dressmaker for her lovely work, instructed her to box up the gown, and took it with me.”

“How in blazes did you come to be wearing it on a dreary London night?”

“I suppose you could attribute that predicament to an unfortunate whim.”

The ridges in his forehead deepened. “A whim?”

“A most poorly timed one, at that,” she said.

“You see, when I returned to my aunt’s residence, I found myself alone in the house.

As I looked at the ribbon-wrapped parcel that contained a dress I no longer needed or wanted, a peculiar mix of emotions washed over me.

The gown was beautiful—or so I’d thought at the time.

The design had seemed like something out of a fairy tale.

So, I decided to try it on, if only to picture the alterations which might make it suitable for a ball or something of that nature.

It seemed a shame to waste such a dress, and you know I’m actually quite practical. ”

“That is not a word I might’ve used to describe you. Evidently, I was not witness to that aspect of your nature.” The slightest of wry smiles played on his mouth. “I shall have to take your word for it.”

“I suppose you will,” she said, mustering a prim tone. “In any case, I’d no sooner managed to fasten the last button when I heard my aunt return. But she was not alone. And soon, the shouting started.”

He quirked a brow. “An argument?”

“One might call it that. Aunt Vera had arranged to meet a friend for an early tea, so she had no way of knowing that I had not stayed for the fitting. When she returned, she evidently did not realize I was in the residence and could hear the shrill notes of her voice.”

“Kentsworth was with her?”

“Yes.” The single syllable tasted bitter on her tongue.

“At first, I didn’t understand what was happening.

I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

She sounded agitated, as if she were in a state of sheer panic.

I assumed something was wrong and rushed to her bedchamber.

The door was closed. But I could hear that she wasn’t in danger.

” Belle pulled in a sharp breath. “They were having a lovers’ quarrel. ”

“Bloody hell,” Jon muttered under his breath.

In her mind’s eye, she saw Gideon’s angry scowl when he discovered she’d learned their secret. The image taunted her, even as the echoes of her aunt’s icy attempt to convince her she’d gone a bit mad played in her thoughts.

“Aunt Vera tried to tell me that I was letting my nerves get the better of me. The shrew dared to insinuate that I was in an irrational state. When I told her I would take up residence in a hotel, she made it clear they would not allow it. I knew then that I had to leave.” She stared down at the stone patio beneath her feet. “I had to escape.”

Honestly, Belle, I am finding this all a bit tiresome , Vera had said in that low, breathy voice of hers.

It’s high time you stopped pretending you possess an iota of virtue.

You made a promise, and you are going to keep it.

Gideon and I will not allow you to simply walk away.

Perhaps the best cure for your fear of matrimony is a night with the man who will take you as his bride.

The memory of her aunt’s calm, poison-filled words was so very bitter, Belle felt a fresh whisper of fear. She could not bring herself to reveal the ugly details. Not yet. Not even to Jon. “So, I ran.”

She hadn’t realized the chill that had washed over her had unleashed an actual shiver. Jon pulled her closer, brushing his fingertips over her cheek. “You’re safe now.”

She nodded, even as a fresh wave of apprehension prickled along her nape. “Jon, they may be dangerous. I don’t know what they will do, but they won’t give up. Not until they have what they want. Everything they did, everything they said, was driven by their hunger for my father’s money.”

“Trust me when I say I will protect you, Belle. No matter what comes this way.” Ever so gently, he drew one finger along the curve of her face. The sensation was so very familiar. So very comforting. After nearly two years apart, his tender, nearly chaste touch seemed natural. It seemed right.

“I do trust you.” She allowed herself a little smile. “I suppose I always have. But if the jackals find me, something terrible may happen. My presence here may draw danger to your doorstep. There must be somewhere else... a secure place where I might rest more easily.”