Page 34 of The Rogue’s Runaway Bride (Rogue of Her Own #3)

B elle’s pleasant morning transformed into a decidedly eventful afternoon after the door chimes announced Ellie Blake’s arrival at teatime. And this time, Ellie was not alone.

Peering out to verify the identity of the callers, Mrs. Gilroy spoke under her breath. “Well, well... the Dragon.”

Belle hesitated for a moment. Dragon. Surely, she’d misunderstood. How very odd.

“Has Miss Blake arrived?” she asked finally.

“Yes,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “It would appear Mr. Mason has arranged yer security. Miss Blake has brought the Dragon.”

Security ? Dragon? Belle silently repeated the words.

Appearing to read the confusion on Belle’s features, Mrs. Gilroy’s mouth pulled into a faint smile. “You’ll understand soon enough, lass.”

When she opened the door, Ellie strolled in, carrying a satchel in a vibrant black and red plaid.

A strikingly pretty woman whose thick, dark hair was streaked with silver and topped with a tasteful black hat followed close behind.

Tall for a woman, she wore a precisely tailored herringbone tweed walking suit in a rich blend of purple, cream, and black and charcoal gray gloves.

In her left hand, she carried a bright yellow parasol, the only item in her ensemble which didn’t quite fit the rest.

This lovely woman with refined tastes could not possibly be the Dragon. Could she?

As the newcomer glanced about the room, her assessing brown eyes appeared to take in the uncluttered, masculine aesthetics of Jon’s townhouse. “I must admit, this is precisely as I’d expected,” she commented to Ellie, who nodded in agreement.

“The dark woods suit him, I’d say.”

As Mrs. Gilroy closed and bolted the door behind them, Ellie introduced Belle to the elegantly attired woman. An old, trusted friend of the family, Mrs. Johnstone greeted Belle warmly in a charming Scottish accent.

“’Tis my pleasure to make yer acquaintance,” she said. “Ellie has spoken highly of ye.”

“And with good reason,” Mrs. Gilroy said, much to Belle’s surprise.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Johnstone said, even as her keen gaze settled on a spot near the length of carpet that ran the length of the entry hall. Her pert nose wrinkled. “Are my eyes deceiving me, or is that... a pawprint?”

Ellie followed the path of her gaze. She leaned closer. “I do believe it is. And it is precisely Heathy’s size.”

Belle and Mrs. Gilroy both saw it then, at precisely the same moment—the bits of flour they’d missed while cleaning up after Carrie’s attempt at making a real pie. How in the dickens had the pup managed to drag the stuff all the way out here?

Mrs. Johnstone peered more closely. “That is flour, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Belle said. “There is an amusing story—”

“We had a bit of fun yesterday teaching the wee lass to make pretty baubles she might hang on the wall,” Mrs. Gilroy spoke up.

Mrs. Johnstone’s forehead creased. “It would appear the dog joined in as well.”

“He is a playful little beast,” Mrs. Gilroy went on, sounding unusually positive about the dog.

“As I recall, he can be a bit willful,” Mrs. Johnstone replied as the dog trotted toward them, as if he knew he’d been the topic of discussion. Tail wagging, he cut a direct path to the woman who reached down to pet him with an easy familiarity. “He is a fiercely loyal little pup.”

“One of his better qualities,” Mrs. Gilroy said with a wan smile. “Might I bring ye all some tea in the parlor?”

“That would be lovely,” Belle replied, thankful the housekeeper had changed the subject. “I’ll come to help you with the tray.”

“No need, lass,” she replied. “I’ll roll in the cart. I think it will be beneficial to exercise my leg a bit.”

As Mrs. Gilroy took her leave, Belle led the women into the parlor. The dog followed along, plastered to Mrs. Johnstone’s side. How had she developed a rapport with the pup?

The women began a conversation that remained lighthearted until Mrs. Johnstone’s cheerful tone took a turn.

“Ye might be wondering why I’ve come today,” she said, her expression growing more somber. “Jon feels I may be of help to ye.”

Belle pulled in a breath as she folded her hands in her lap. “Thank you, but if you’re here to assist me in watching over the child, there is no need.” She made an effort to sound cordial even as she dismissed the woman’s offer of assistance. “I have matters well in hand.”

Mrs. Johnstone flickered a glance toward a few more bits of flour shaped like a paw, albeit smaller than Heathy’s print. One brow hiked up in a speaking glance.

Drat. Belle resisted the urge to frown. Evidently, the cat had tracked the grain into this room as well.

The woman slowly shook her head. “Miss Frost, that is not why I’m here.”

“It’s quite exciting, really.” Ellie’s eyes lit with enthusiasm. “She is a woman of, shall we say, unique skills.”

“Indeed.” Mrs. Johnstone’s manner was pleasant. Yet reserved. “You’ve much to learn.”

Belle turned to her. “I am afraid I don’t follow.”

Before she could respond, Mrs. Gilroy ambled in with the tea service on a cart. Carrie assisted her in pushing the wheeled wooden tray. “Thank ye, child,” Mrs. Gilroy said, and Carrie hurried to Belle’s side.

Fresh from her afternoon nap, the girl fairly bounced with enthusiasm. She greeted Ellie and Mrs. Johnstone with a cheerful smile.

The women engaged the child in a light discussion of topics ranging from Carrie’s preference for yellow and green dresses, the child’s fondness for Mrs. Gilroy’s fig jam, and a brief debate as to whether Heathy would look more handsome wearing a blue or violet bow on his collar.

After a few pleasant minutes had passed, Ellie sent Mrs. Johnstone a speaking glance.

“Mrs. Gilroy, Belle and I have matters to discuss,” Mrs. Johnstone said directly. “Matters not suitable for a child’s ears.”

“I figured ye might,” the housekeeper said with a knowing nod. “Carrie, will ye show me yer new doll, the one Mr. Jon brought ye?”

“She’s very pretty,” the child said. “I know you’ll think so, too.”

“Ye can be sure of that,” Mrs. Gilroy took the girl by the hand and walked a bit gingerly from the room.

As the door closed, Mrs. Johnstone took a sip of tea and sent Ellie another glance. “I know it must all seem a bit odd, with Ellie’s talk of unique skills and such. But I’m here to assist with the matter of yer security. I understand ye’ve good reason to be cautious, given the situation.”

“I take it he’s informed you of my circumstances.”

Mrs. Johnstone nodded. “As soon as I heard the name of the man who is looking for ye, I knew the danger ye’d faced.”

“You’ve heard of him?”

She gave a somber nod. “A few years ago, I was involved in an investigation as an agent performing services for a certain detective bureau. It was all rather hush-hush, and discretion does not permit me to divulge the details of that particular case. But suffice it to say that Gideon Kentsworth is a very dangerous man. Ye would not be the first young woman of means who became entangled with the scoundrel, only to regret it.”

“Thank heaven you trusted your instincts,” Ellie said.

“If I’d had any doubt that you were in danger, the information Miss Blake has learned only confirms my suspicions,” Mrs. Johnstone said.

Tension gripped Belle’s insides. “What is it, Ellie?”

“Since he arrived in London, Kentsworth has portrayed himself as Scottish nobility. But Belle, the man is a fraud.”

Belle had already seen how very unscrupulous Gideon truly was. But this information still plowed into her with the force of a blow. “My, he did make a complete fool of me, didn’t he?”

Ellie slowly shook her head. “He’s been deceiving people for a long time. Most everyone he came across in the city believed him. After all, very few would feel inclined to research and verify one’s title.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “Kentsworth has honed a talent for being a chameleon. He blends into an environment and characterizes himself in a way that does him the most good.”

“He didn’t have to try hard to convince me.

I truly didn’t care if he possessed a title or not.

” Belle reflected on the seamless manner in which he’d blended into her life, sharing her interests and dedication to aiding the poor.

Why, he’d even made a show of sharing her love of poetry, even going so far as to recite verses of Walt Whitman and Ralph Waldo Emerson.

It had all been an act. Every last bit of it had been a bitter charade.

“In my heart, I think I knew all along. I saw through him, deep down. Even when I wanted to view him through a rosy lens.”

“Ye can be thankful ye followed yer instincts.” Mrs. Johnstone took a sip of tea and faced Belle directly. “Do ye care to tell me more of what happened the night ye ran from him?”

Belle gulped a swallow of tea and composed her thoughts. “It’s rather simple, really. I’d already realized I could not go through it... I could not marry him. I had been staying with my aunt, Lady Vera Willsbury. You may have heard of her.”

“I have,” Mrs. Johnstone said without elaboration.

“I see clearly now that she’d done everything in her power to bring me and Gideon together.

At the time, I truly believed she was hopeful that I would find the right man for me, especially after—” After Jon took a piece of my heart when he returned to London.

But she certainly couldn’t say that now, could she?

“After I’d happily put myself on the shelf. ”

“She stood to benefit from your relationship,” Ellie said as Mrs. Johnstone nodded her understanding.

“Yes, though I’d believed her efforts were sincere.

Until I heard the two of them quarreling when she did not realize I was in the residence.

Aunt Vera had flown into a rage. I don’t ever recall hearing her voice so very shrill.

So filled with anger.” Belle took another sip of tea, collecting herself.

The echo of her aunt’s harsh tone in her thoughts still left her shaken.

“Belle, I know this is hard for you,” Ellie said gently.

“For years, I trusted her as a dear friend. The truth was so bitter. That night, when I heard them, Gideon was much calmer than she was. He wasn’t shouting, and it seemed he was trying to reassure her. But Aunt Vera was utterly furious.”

She’s having second thoughts, you fool. If Belle leaves.

.. we’ll be left with nothing. Aunt Vera’s harsh tones echoed in her mind.

If she will not publicly speak her vows.

.. I’ve found another way. But her father is a powerful man.

We must ensure there is no way that he can challenge the documents.

I don’t care if you use persuasion. Or force. You cannot let her leave.

Belle pulled in a low breath. “In Vera’s eyes, he was letting the prey slip away.”

The women’s eyes went wide. “Good heavens,” Mrs. Johnstone said.

“I knew then that I had no choice. I had to get away. They did not intend to let me go. I would be forced to marry Gideon. Or so they thought. Even if I refused, they could extort funds from my father in exchange for their silence.”

“Oh, my,” Ellie said, her tone hushed.

“I was able to create a distraction,” Belle went on. “I escaped through the kitchen. And I ran.” She sighed. “I kept going until I came to the tavern. Until I saw Jon.”

“I doubt I could’ve been so brave,” Ellie said.

“I was not brave.” Belle shook her head. “I was terrified.”

“Miss Frost, ye showed true courage,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “And now, I am here to help ye to learn certain skills... skills ye may need if the jackals dare to come after ye.”