Page 20 of A Rogue to Cherish

They fell into an awkward silence for a short moment, and Wren considered what to say next. Nothing occurred to her, so she blurted, “I best go. Have a good day, sir.” Once again, she bobbed a curtsy and began walking away without waiting for his response. She wondered if it was rude to do so, but it was too late.

“I can walk with you for a bit.” He fell into step beside her.

“You must have things to do, sir,” Wren whispered sharply.

“I am all done.” He motioned to a tailor’s shop. “I am to attend a ball tonight and require some items that will be delivered.” The tall, well-dressed man walking with her brought many a confused look in their direction. Grant didn’t seem to notice, but it made Wren quite aware of the difference between them. “Do you plan to spend the rest of your day gardening? What of other pursuits like, perhaps, reading?” he asked.

Many people of her background, especially women, did not know how to read. Thankfully, her parents had ensured she and her sister attended school. “I will garden and perhaps write a few letters. But I do enjoy reading if I have the time.”

She wanted to ask what he would be doing until it was time for the ball but decided it wasn’t her place.

“Ah, if you enjoy reading, then you must enter this shop with me.” He took her arm and guided her through the door of a bookshop. Then, to her astonishment, he took the basket from her and placed it just inside the door. “Pick something you would like. I wish to make amends by getting you something nice.”

When she stared at him as if he’d gone daft, he added. “To make up for the incident.”

Despite it being the most peculiar of circumstances, Wren hurried to find a book. She didn’t wish to linger and quickly picked out a novel that had a pretty bound cover. Grant took it from her and added it to several items he’d chosen, including a set of pencils, a journal, and what looked to be a bound stack of papers.

“Wrap it all up together,” he instructed the shopkeeper.

Feeling at odds being in the shop with him, Wren was glad when they stepped outside and once again she held the basket.

Grant placed the bundle inside of it and gave her a crooked smile, uncertainty playing in his gaze. “Have a pleasant day with gardening and writing letters, Miss Owen.” He touched the brim of his hat and walked away whistling.

“What a peculiar man,” Wren murmured. She crossed the street, praying there had been no witness to what had occurred. Her aunt was going to kill her.

*

By the timeher aunt was due to come home, Wren was a bundle of nerves. Once again, she’d stumbled upon Grant Murray, and this time in broad daylight, at the market, where staff from the household were often sent on errands.

The old cloth she kneeled on cushioned her knees as she finished turning over the soil in the raised garden beds, and Wren pushed her hands into the soft dirt. In a bucket next to her were the vegetables she’d prepared for planting. Usually, gardening relaxed her, but gauging by the tightness in her shoulders and neck, she was not in the least calmed. She blew out a breath and stood, catching sight of the wagon coming to a stop in front of their home.

The driver, who worked at Lady Roberts’ stables waved, and she lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

Wren hurried to help her aunt down, taking a proffered sack first and then helping the older woman down. Once the wagon ambled away, she picked up her aunt’s sack and went to where her aunt stood, admiring the raised garden boxes. “You did a lot of work today,” her aunt said.

“Cleaned the house and heated your delicious leek and potato soup—without burning it,” Wren answered, doing her best to keep her voice level. “Come inside, you must be exhausted,” she added.

Unfortunately, her aunt was quite an astute woman and gave her a questioning look. “What did you plant?”

“Err…tomatoes…peas…” Wren said, the word “peas” coming out as more of a squeak. “Potatoes,” she added, swallowing.

Instead of making her way inside, Mairid looked around the small area, stopping to glance at the only other garden that was replete with new plantings. “Where did you get these? Did you spend all your earnings?”

“No.” Wren hurried to a bucket filled with water and began rinsing her hands. “As a matter of fact, I got almost everything free of charge. People are so generous, I have found one has to but ask.”

“People?” Her aunt shook her head and headed to the door. “I need a strong cup of tea.”

Unable to prolong the inevitable, Wren followed her aunt inside. Inside, the aroma of the simmering soup filled the air.

“It smells wonderful.” Her aunt seemed to have forgotten the earlier conversation as she took a towel and lifted the pot’s lid to sniff. “We should eat early today. I wish to get some mending done before bed.”

Her aunt went to her bedroom to remove her coat and apron, and Wren went about setting the table.

“You did so much, my room is refreshed,” her aunt exclaimed with a bright smile. “Thank you.”

That her aunt was so grateful made her chest tighten. The woman had taken her in and given her a home when no one else was able. In Wren’s opinion, it was impossible to ever repay the kindness. “There is no need to thank me, Aunt Mairid. No need at all.”

The older woman settled at the table, smiling brightly when Wren placed a cup of steaming tea in front of her. “Where did you get all the items, darling girl?”