Page 36 of A Rogue to Cherish

She sat on the bed. Who could she possibly discuss the turn of events with? More than anything, she needed advice from a neutral party.

Wren stood and walked to the basin where she poured cold water and then took a cloth and dipped it into the water which she pressed against her lips. There was enough time to walk to the shop where Laurel worked and return before it was time to help with dinner. Once satisfied that her lips were not swollen, she went out and to the kitchen.

Mae barely glanced up from the dough she kneaded.

“Can I nick out to the shop two blocks down for a moment?” Wren asked.

“You can do better and stop at the butcher to pick up the meat I ordered. They were supposed to deliver this morning and have yet to. Get some sausage for the morning while you’re there.” Mae motioned to a basket on the table. “Money is in the basket. Make haste.”

Wren collected the money and picked up the shopping basket by the door. She hung it by the handle over her arm as she went outside. The day was cloudy, with rain-threatening, but Wren didn’t mind. Anytime she was outdoors it was freeing. As the butcher shop came into view, she crossed the cobblestoned street and entered. From behind the counter, the butcher waited for her to approach.

“I am from the Murray’s home. Mae sent me to pick up today’s order, as it was not delivered this morning.”

The man was visibly upset at the mistake, adding an additional cut of meat for the household. Then he’d weighed some sausage, wrapping it in brown paper as she waited. As he worked, a slight man emerged from the back room. He looked from her to the butcher with questioning eyes.

“You forgot to deliver to the Murray’s,” the butcher bit out. “Second time this week you forget something.”

The slight man’s eyes rounded, his face turned blotchy, and Wren wondered if he was about to cry. “I delivered all morning. Went by the list,” he said in a clipped tone.

The butcher didn’t acknowledge him. After a moment, the slight man shrugged and returned to the backroom.

“I apologize, miss. Please tell Miss Mae, I am sorry.” The butcher handed the neatly wrapped parcels over the counter to her and she put them into the basket.

From there it was but a few yards to the small gift shop where Laurel worked. A bell dinged overhead as she walked into the cluttered shop. There were shelves of different sizes on the walls, every single one filled with different items. Tables were set here and there, not seeming to be in any sort of pattern. However, the items atop them were organized by function. Some had bells, another had perfume bottles, and still another was laden with candlesticks.

Laurel appeared from the back of the shop and her face brightened at seeing her. The young woman rushed to her. “Wren! I am so glad you came by.” They hugged and smiled at one another with glee.

“I may just have to volunteer to pick up from the butcher, on occasion, so I can see you,” Wren informed her.

When an older man peeked out from a side door, Laurel motioned to Wren. “This is my friend, Wren, she stopped by for a quick visit.”

The man nodded. “Tea?”

“Thank you, no,” Wren said. “I cannot tarry.”

When the man disappeared, Laurel motioned to a pair of chairs near the window. “This is where I take my tea. That way I can look outside and watch people walking by. I saw Lars the other day. He said he went by to visit your aunt.”

“Good,” Wren said, placing the basket on the floor next to her feet. “I have something to ask you. You will not believe what happened today.”

At once Laurel leaned forward. “Tell me.”

When Wren finished telling her friend about the kiss, albeit an edited version she could not bring herself to speak of all the sensations, or of how long they’d kissed. Or of his tongue inside her mouth for that matter. She then told her of Grant’s question.

“He asked to court you?” Laurel covered her cheeks. “Oh my.”

“Do you think he is sincere?” Wren asked. “I find it hard to believe.”

“I do as well.” Laurel bit her bottom lip. “You did say he announced his plans to fetch you on Sunday in front of his mother. That was very odd.”

“I agree. She was not pleased.” Wren glanced out the window as an elegant couple walked by. It occurred to her she didn’t own one thing that would be appropriate if ever she were to accompany Grant anywhere.

A woman stood at the window to study a vase that was prominently displayed.

Laurel smiled. “I am quite proud of my display. The vase and open book garner a lot of attention.” A frown crossed her features when she spoke next. “If I am to be honest, will you be cross with me?”

“I won’t. I promise.” Wren waited for what she knew would be a confirmation of what she already knew.

“Do not go forward with any kind of assignation with Grant Murray. He is known for his roguish ways. I cannot see how it would end well for you. I would hate for you to end up with a broken heart. Or worse.”

It was too late, her heart was already shattering. Since he’d asked, Wren already knew the answer she would give. It was best to get it over with, to let him know she would not allow such an inappropriate relationship.

She sighed and nodded. “You are right, of course. It is exactly what I thought. I will come here on Sunday, early, so we can go home together. It is not appropriate for me to ride alone with a gentleman.”