Page 23 of A Rogue to Cherish

They arrived at the doctor’s house, and upon her knocking persistently for what seemed too long, the door had been opened by a slender man in rumpled clothing who patiently listened as she explained the need for him to go hurry to Martha’s home.

“But before you do, can you take a moment to look at the man in the carriage? He was assailed when helping me fight off attackers.” Wren motioned to the carriage.

The doctor climbed up into it with his medical bag in hand, and then emerged a few moments later. He instructed the driver as to how to care for Grant before turning to Wren. “Now, will you come with me to see about Mrs. Turner?”

Wren looked first toward the carriage and then to the doctor. She knew she shouldn’t even entertain the thought of not going to Martha’s, but still—Grant had gotten injured helping her. How could she not make sure he was all right? “I think I will go with him and get him settled, and then ask the driver to take me home.” Decision made, she climbed back into the carriage.

Grant was conscious when she got in, though he seemed less than focused. He looked at her with a surprised expression. “Hello, Wren. I expected you would like to go home. I can instruct the driver to take you there.”

“I will see you settled first,” Wren stated without hesitation and sternly. “You saved me, and I must ensure you are going to recover fully. The doctor instructed that you be kept awake for a few hours to ensure your lucidity.”

When he frowned and his bottom lip stuck out, he resembled a petulant child. “I assure you I am well. However, I will not argue that you don’t accompany me home.”

They arrived at the dark house, and she wondered if anyone was in.

“Is the house empty?” she asked the driver as they helped a now limping Grant to the door.

The driver shook his head. “Norman and Rosalie are home, they have probably gone to bed. Norman doesn’t wait up for Mr. Murray.”

The door was unlocked, so they went inside. Grant shrugged them off. “I am perfectly capable of making my way up to my bedchamber.” He turned to Wren. “You really should not fret. I assure you I am…” His expression went blank, and he fell sideways to the floor.

“I wonder what the last word he was going to say was?” the driver said, bending to help Grant back up. With a lot of grunting and several pauses to catch their breath, both the driver, who finally introduced himself as Benjamin, and Wren managed to get Grant into his bedroom.

She went downstairs, following the driver’s instructions to get a bowl of water and to boil more for tea. She hoped she didn’t have trouble with the stove; she still hadn’t learned how to heat water in all kitchens. This particular kitchen was large, not as big as Lady Roberts’. She found a kettle and filled it, then put it on the still-warm stove to heat. While the kettle started to boil, she opened the cupboard to look for the necessary herbs the doctor had prescribed. She was just reaching for a jar when a deep voice boomed behind her.

“Can I help you?”

She yelped and whirled around, holding up the jar and preparing to defend herself with it. Somehow. But she lowered it when she realized she’d been accosted by who was—unmistakably—Grant’s butler. He had that carefully dressed, haughty manner that she’d learned to recognize from the butler at the Roberts estate.

The butler gave her a droll look. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“I—I…” Wren lowered the jar. “I was being chased by some horrible men while on my way to fetch the doctor for a friend’s aunt. Mr. Murray saved me, but one of the men hit him on the back of the head. So the doctor examined him as well, and then Benjamin—the driver—and I brought him home.” She held up the jar, and then turned back to the cabinet. “The doctor said to give him tea made of…”

“I will take care of it,” the butler replied. He moved through the kitchen with confidence, lifting the kettle and pouring some water into a ceramic bowl, then pulling out a short stack of cloths from a drawer. “Here. You can take the water and these cloths to bathe his head.” He handed her the items and directed her to Grant’s bedchamber.

As she went up the stairs, careful not to spill the water, she wondered if this was a common occurrence. Neither the driver nor the butler seemed at all troubled about Grant’s state. Nor did they seem to find her presence there so late at night particularly odd.

Upon entering the bedchamber, she found Grant sitting in the bed with his back against the headboard and the blankets up to his waist. He wore a light nightshirt open at the neck. His eyes were squeezed shut, and there was a grimace on his face. When hearing her walk in, he opened his eyes and looked at her then at the bowl in her hands. “You don’t have to look after me. I can do it myself. Or I can wake Norman,” he said. “He’s the butler.”

“He is already up and is making something for your headache,” she assured him.

His chest expanded with a large inhalation. “I instructed Benjamin to see you home. He awaits.” Grant held out his hand, so she hurriedly put the bowl down on his night table and wrapped his fingers with hers. He smiled, despite the obvious pain he was in, she moved closer.

“I wish you a quick recovery. Thank you so much for ensuring my safety,” she said.

“What were you doing out so late? Alone?” He searched her face.

“I went in search of a doctor. My aunt’s friend is very sick. I should have knocked on the neighbor’s door and asked that someone accompany me, but I did not wish to tarry too long,” Wren replied, noting he’d pulled her closer.

“Wren. You must take better care. I fret that harm can come to you.”

She couldn’t help a soft chuckle. “My aunt says the same. I really seem to fall upon the most peculiar of circumstances. It is a good thing I am a fast runner. I have no doubt I would have made it to the doctor’s house before those reprobates could catch me.”

“It certainly seemed so.” Grant’s gaze moved to her lips. “May I kiss you?”

At the unexpected question, Wren gasped, and she was sure the bump on his head had affected the poor man. “I do not think so.”

Still, she found she’d moved closer instead of away even as she told him “no”.