Page 24 of To Dance with a Devil

Well, his brother’s name was certainly getting an airing today. Bonnie didn’t wait to see what effect this tirade had on her victim and, a bare moment later, she swept into the room, dark eyes flashing with fury.

“Jerome Cadogan, I could wring your blasted neck!”

Jerome cleared his throat. “Afternoon, Bonnie.”

Then, to his appalled astonishment, she burst into tears.

“Bonnie! Oh, love.” He hurried to her, slammed shut the door which she’d left discreetly open, and pulled her into his arms. “There, there, I’m here now,” he said, holding her tightly, only to be thrust away a moment later.

“Yes, you great l-lummox, and you’ve ruined everything. Now that awful woman will think you’re m-my l-lover and turn me out,” she stammered in between sobs as she flung herself down in a chair.

Jerome crouched down in front of her and took her hand. “I am your lover,” he said gently. “No getting away from it.”

She stared at him for a moment and then began crying harder.

Good heavens.

He thrust a handkerchief at her and waited until the storm subsided a little. “Bonnie, what is it? What’s wrong, love? Why did you run away?”

“I didn’t run away,” she said indignantly. “And I told Ruth why I was going. It’s too b-bad of her to come running to you and tattling.”

“Oh, come now, sweetheart. She’s your friend, and she was worried sick.”

“Well, there’s no need,” she said, wiping her eyes and gathering herself together. “I’m perfectly all right.”

“Of course you are,” Jerome said with a sigh. “That’s why you burst into tears at the sight of me.”

“Because I didn’t want to see you, for heaven’s sake!” she cried, throwing up her hands. “I just wanted a bit of peace away from everyone. I’ve only just unpacked my bags!”

“Well, I’m sorry for it,” he said, and then changed his mind. “Dash it all, no. I’m not the least bit sorry. What the devil are you doing out here, all by yourself? What is so bad that you ran away from your friends? If it’s this Anderson fellow you’re frightened of, you need only say so, love. I’ll not let him haul you back to Scotland if you don’t want to go.”

She stared at him for a long moment and then gave a wan smile. “That’s sweet, Jerome, but I’m used to being by myself. It really isn’t so terrible.”

Jerome felt his heart clench at her words. How much of her life had she been alone? The loss of his father had utterly devastated Jerome when he was nineteen. Bonnie had lost everyone but her father at five years old, and then he had promptly abandoned her to relatives she didn’t know from Adam. She’d not spoken much about it, but it occurred to him now to wonder just what her life had been like.

“But you hate to be alone,” he said, and saw her eyes widen. He reached out and took her hand. “I know you, Bonnie Campbell, and I know you can’t abide silence and solitude.”

“That’s not true,” she countered, but her voice quavered a little.

“Perhaps, if there’s no one you want to be in company with, but you adore your friends, and you’d always rather be with me than alone.”

She flushed then, putting colour in her cheeks, which were far too pale. He realised now that she’d lost weight too, and he felt his heart ache. All the life and vivacity that he’d adored had vanished, the sparkle gone from her eyes. Had he done that? Had he caused so much damage? Was he only making things worse for her, seeking her out like this? Yet, what else could he do? Friends did not forsake each other when they knew the person they cared for was unhappy and alone, no matter if their attentions were unwelcome.

“I wish you hadn’t come,” she said, the words so forlorn he wanted to weep himself.

“But I have, and I’m not going to abandon you. Besides, that starched up old tabby will want you out of her house now you’ve been alone in her parlour… with a man.” He leered at her and twirled an imaginary moustache like a theatrical villain and, to his relief, she grinned at him.

“You’re a devil and no mistake, Jerome Cadogan,” she said with a sigh. “But Ruth’s gone away to her father’s, and I can hardly come and stay with you.”

“What about Miss Hunt?” he asked, knowing full well that the young woman had appointed herself mother hen of their particular—peculiar—group of friends. “She’d be pleased to see you, I think?”

Bonnie sighed and nodded. “I suppose so.”

“And we’ll not tell anyone you’re there if you prefer, so you’ll have the peace and quiet you need and, if Mr Anderson comes to town, I’ll tell him to sling his hook.”

She snorted at that. “Oh, that I would pay to see,” she said, and he was more than relieved to see something of a glimmer return to her eyes.

Jerome squeezed her hand. “Are you all right, love? Was it really only that you didn’t want that brute coming after you?”