Page 48 of A Rogue to Cherish

Chapter Seventeen

Atrip to the modiste was one thing Wren never thought to do, and yet here she was, accompanied by Laurel and Mae. She wore a simple gown that had been given to her by Grant’s sister. Being she was a bit taller than Felicity, the hem didn’t brush the top of her shoes. Despite everyone’s assurances, Wren couldn’t help feeling as if she played dress up in someone else’s clothing. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

That her fiancé’s sister had to give her clothes because she didn’t own anything that was anywhere nice enough to don when in Grant’s company was humiliating, even now as she made her way to the modiste. It was the least expensive one she could find, since she wasn’t emotionally ready to run into anyone of higher society. And she didn’t want to spend too much of Grant’s money. There would be announcements to come, and she would be attending social events soon enough. For now, Wren vowed to take small steps and slowly become accustomed to what was to be her new life.

They cross the cobblestone street to the side where Laurel said the modiste’s shop was. There were other people walking about, mostly women carrying either baskets or bundles of whatever they’d purchased.

As they made their way beside the buildings, Wren noted the shingle hanging beside a doorway. “Belle Modiste”. A carriage came to a stop on the road in front of the shop. At first Wren thought that perhaps whomever it was also planned to visit the modiste. Her blood ran cold when recognizing the emblem on the door. Lucinda Roberts’ sleek carriage was the same one she’d ridden in the day she’d met Grant for the first time.

“I will speak to you!” A call came from within and then Lady Roberts peered out. The woman’s steely gaze took in Wren and her companions. The footman came about and assisted the older woman from the carriage.

They flattened against the building to allow a trio of older women to pass. The women hesitated, interested in what happened. Wren mentally urged them along, but they slowed to a crawl, looking over their shoulders at what occurred.

Instead of closing the distance between where they stood and the entrance, Wren and her companions remained rooted to the spot.

The ground seemed to shrink under Wren’s feet, preventing any choice of escape. Every ounce of her being screamed that she ignore the woman who stalked toward her, but Wren found it impossible.

She no longer owed the woman anything, nor was there any need to pay attention to the woman’s outstretched hand, palm facing forward and calling for her to stop. However, even she understood the influence the wealthy woman had, and it was possible she could make life complicated for Grant.

“I hear things,” Lucinda Roberts stated. She didn’t stop in front of Wren but walked around her as if assessing her. “I have a very hard time believing what I heard.”

“Lady Roberts,” Wren said, bowing her head in acknowledgement. “I have no way of knowing what you heard.”

The woman’s upper lip twisted. “Do you not? Despite it not being announced formally, your engagement to Grant Murray is the talk of the town.”

This was to be the first of many encounters Felicity—and mostly everyone they’d already told—had warned her about. Thankfully her soon to be sister-in-law hadn’t just warned her, but instructed her on how to respond and what to say.

“If you wish to know if it is true, it is,” Wren replied, glad her voice didn’t shake. “Grant and I are to be married.”

Lady Robert’s gaze flickered to Wren’s ringless finger, and she fought the urge to hide her hand. “I must speak to him. As a matter of fact, that is where I was heading.

“I wish you a good day then.” Wren started to take a step away, but Lady Robert’s hand curled around her upper arm, the grip hard, and meant to hurt her, not just stop her.

The woman leaned to speak into her ear. “There is something you should be aware of, girl. Grant is soft-hearted. In fact, he probably feels badly for you for whatever reason. Do not be fooled. A man like him can never love someone like you. We are now—and I am sure we will continue to be—lovers.”

The thought was sickening, though she didn’t doubt the woman’s words. Wren wrenched her arm away. “We are going to be late,” she said to Mae and Laurel who’d seemed as shaken as she felt. “Come, ladies.”

“Ladies,” Lady Roberts mocked, and chuckled without mirth. She walked back to the carriage, and moments later it lurched forward and away in the direction of Grant’s house.

“Do not listen to that old cow,” Mae said, bringing Wren’s attention back to where they stood. “She is bitter.”

Wren looked from Mae to Laurel. “I am not prepared for this.” Her hand shook as she brushed it over her mouth. “I knew people would doubt us. And that—perhaps—they would find my relationship with Grant distasteful. But Lady Roberts…she hates me.”

Laurel took her hand from her mouth and held it. “What did she say when she whispered into your ear?”

A part of it was not worth repeating until she spoke to Grant. “That he is marrying me because he felt bad and was atoning for something.” Wren looked at Mae. “Could it truly be that he is going to these lengths because he caused me to be dismissed twice?”

Mae cackled. “Grant has been a confirmed bachelor most of his adult life. If it was just that he felt bad about costing you your jobs, he would help you find another position perhaps, or try to give you money. But marriage? No, the headstrong lad marries you because he loves you. It’s obvious on his face whenever he looks at you.”

The words would have made her feel better if not for Lady Robert’s revelation that she and Grant continued to be lovers. Was it true? She herself had witnessed his visits to her home. It had not been long since then. She remembered the other servants’ whispers of shocking parties. Then, there had been the day he appeared in the room stark naked and seeking his clothing, which had been left in the most unconventional of places and not in a bedroom as they would have been for any guest. Why had she not questioned it? He’d slept there, probably with Lady Roberts.

Any sense of joy she’d had was gone thanks to the poisonous Lady Roberts. Throughout the fitting and choosing of fabrics, for the most part, she left the decisions to Mae and Laurel. The women were so engrossed in the pleasant task, they didn’t seem to notice she wanted to be anywhere but there.

Wren smiled when she was expected to, and remained still, with arms out as the seamstress measured, pinned and held up samples so that the others could give the opinion on whether the colors were flattering. The only time Wren felt compelled to contradict them was when Mae held up a gaudy, floral-print fabric of huge yellow flowers. The woman laughed and admitted she was only making sure that Wren was paying attention.

In the end, six gowns were ordered, three cloaks, ten chemises, and several other items; the amount of money that would be charged to Grant’s account made her head swim. They left the shop with several ready-made chemises and three dresses that would serve until her next visit.

In spite of Grant’s urging, Wren refused to move into his parents’ home, instead remaining with her aunt until after the wedding day. They’d not set a date for the wedding. Perhaps once that was done, she’d move into town, which would make things easier.