Page 4 of A Rogue to Cherish

Chapter Two

Wren Darrow bent at the waist to sniff the large lilac-like flower and wondered what it was. She’d never seen so many varieties of flora in her life. As much as she enjoyed gardening, she’d always planted and cultivated vegetables to put food on the table. A floral garden was a treat, something to be enjoyed, and most people like her did not have the luxury of growing one.

New to Glasgow, she’d gone directly to her Aunt Mairid’s home located in the city. Narrow streets wound around buildings built too closely together; one could reach and touch two structures at the same time. It left little room for growing things, and the bit of dirt that was available to her aunt had already been planted with only tomatoes and cooking herbs, that she could tell.

Moving from the country had been a shock to her senses; however, walking through this garden was a welcome reprieve. The mingling fragrances of flowers reminded her of her childhood spent in the country chasing butterflies in fields filled with wildflowers.

Wren stole a glance toward the house. The astonishingly handsome gentleman had yet to reappear.

Strange this task she’d been assigned, with no other instruction than to deliver the note and then wait for a reply.

Thanks to her aunt, who’d worked for Lady Roberts for many years, she’d been able to get her a placement in the household. In the short time she’d worked for Lady Roberts, she’d not been in the walled-off garden at the estate. Although she’d spied some flowers from where she hung clothes to dry, she hadn’t seen more than a few patches of green most days because she was usually inside with her aunt.

Still, as of yet, Wren had not been assigned a specific position, which was a bit unsettling. In truth, it had been strange. Even on the day she’d arrived, the household had been in chaos. Apparently, there had been a huge party and many of those who’d attended had remained overnight. The morning after, most left hurriedly, not bothering with staff and seeming to wish to flee rather than remain and break their fast.

When she’d asked her aunt about the goings-on, she’d been told to hush and not ask any questions.

“Better to be ignorant of the facts than to be pulled into gossip,” her aunt had said.

She’d continued to show up at the estate each day where, other than being given odd jobs here and there, Wren had yet to be placed. So when the mistress had asked for someone not busy to take a message, she’d been the one sent.

Looking around the perfectly-tended garden, Wren realized she was alone for the first time in many days. Her heartbeat had yet to slow. It was the first time she’d gone off on her own since arriving just one week earlier.

There was no real reason to feel unsettled, and nothing seemed amiss. But the ride in the carriage had given her an opportunity to see more of Glasgow, and the sights had made her head spin. The city was huge, colorful, and absolutely beautiful. Perhaps that was what was making her heart race. It was just seeing how large the city was, and knowing she’d only seen but a portion of it.

She’d grown up in a small village north of the city. Overall, Wren had had a good life. However, all had changed after her parents and sister caught the pox and died, one right after the other. Left alone and without means to make a living, Wren had been relieved when her aunt insisted Wren return to Glasgow with her. Now she wondered how on earth she could ever fit into such a large place.

So far life had been simple. Her Aunt Mairid was widowed and had a son, Lars, who was married and lived closer to the city center. He had several shops and provided well for his family. Aunt Mairid had told her that on occasion, her cousin Lars and his wife and children would visit. Her aunt’s house was a comfortable, small home, attached to three others, two up and two down. She lived on the bottom floor. Her small bedroom was cozy.

She worked during the day and came home with her aunt to enjoy a meal, do a few chores, and then go to bed early. Though she’d kept the same hours as she had at home, in Glasgow, life was quite different than life on the farm where she’d grown up. Everything they needed had to be purchased.

Now, Wren straightened and looked toward the doorway. Interesting that the man had yet to return. Torn with what to do, she went out through a gate and walked to the carriage. The driver was leaning back, eyes closed.

“Excuse me,” Wren whispered.

The man straightened and frowned down at her. “Ready to leave?”

“No, he told me to wait in the garden and has yet to return. What should I do?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Hurry, go back. Do not be daft. Wait for him. If it takes hours, you wait.”

Chastised, she rushed back to the garden and looked around. There was no one about, giving her freedom to explore. In actuality, it was a wonderful respite from doing laundry or scrubbing floors at the Roberts mansion. So she didn’t mind at all.

Wren wandered to an area where there was a table and chairs. She studied the furniture, wondering if it was appropriate for her to sit. Finally she picked a seat from which she could see the door and be aware of the gentleman exiting so she could stand as soon as he appeared.

Once seated, she let out a sigh. Whoever lived here probably took such a wonderful place for granted. She would never. Not that she could ever aspire to such a life.

A light breeze blew across the garden, the perfumed air caressing her skin. Unable to keep herself from enjoying the sensation, she stood, lifted her face to the sun, and inhaled deeply. This was a moment she’d treasured for a long time. Eyes still closed, she lifted her hands up, as if to embrace the sun.

“What exactly are you doing?” The deep voice made her make a surprised yelp, and she jumped so high that her sturdy shoes tapped on the flat stone when she landed.

“I—I apologize, Mr. Grant… er…Murray. I was smelling the flowers.” Her face felt as if it had been burned by the sun she’d just been worshipping.

Grant Murray was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. When he’d first appeared, her breath had caught, and Wren was sure she’d gawked. Thankfully, he’d not seemed to notice.

At this moment, however, his brown gaze was steady on her, as if trying to figure out if she was feeble-minded. “I see.” He looked to the nearest flowers. “You seem quite fond of the garden.”

Unable to keep from doing so, she smiled widely. “I am.”