Rose Gardner's Florist (The Providence Street Shops #2) - Bonnie Dee Page 0,6
set the flowers aside and escorted her to the work room as if he had been there before. Locating the sink, he held her bleeding hand while pumping water over it. “Have you any salve or bandages?”
With his thumb pressing tight against her palm to slow the bleeding, she couldn’t think straight. “I have… I’m afraid I don’t. I haven’t needed any before.”
He pushed his glasses into place and leaned to examine her wound. “I think I see a bit of thorn embedded. Do you have tweezers with which I might pluck it out?”
She shook her head. “I suppose I am ill-prepared for accidents.”
“I will attempt to capture it with my nails with your permission.” His courtly manner made her smile.
“Please do.”
He peered more closely at her wound, warm breath grazing her skin as he painstakingly teased out the sharp point that had broken off.
“Steady on. Nearly there,” he soothed, when Rose whimpered.
But it was not pain that prompted the sound. His nearness and kindness stirred something inside her which rose to the surface as a little moan.
“Aha! I’ve got you.” Carmody plucked a dark bit from her throbbing palm and flicked it into the sink. “Now for a disinfectant. Have you any alcohol or perhaps a bottle of vinegar?”
“Yes, I do, for shining the windows.” She pointed out a bottle under the sink.
When her rescuer doused her wound with the astringent, she moaned again.
He regarded her with luminescent eyes enlarged by the spectacle lenses. “I am sorry to hurt you, Miss Gardener, but it is necessary to stave off infection.”
“Of course. Thank you for your aid, Mr. Carmody. I appreciate it.”
More than he could have known, for at no time in her memory had anyone treated her with such tender care. The Gardener family was not prone to warmth or gentleness.
Her knight bound her hand in his kerchief again, tying the makeshift bandage tightly. “Be certain to treat your hand again later today and put on a fresh cloth, won’t you? If any redness or swelling occurs, go to a physician at once.”
Rose nodded, astounded by the man’s shift from shyness to authority. She touched the fine linen stained with her blood. “How do you know so much about doctoring?”
“Through my reading. One never knows what topics might prove useful, so I learn as much as I can about many things.”
“Well, this was certainly useful knowledge to have. I can’t thank you enough. Now, let me make up that bouquet—for your aunt.”
“Yes. Of course. But don’t bother with stripping the thorns. She won’t mind them.”
Carmody followed her into the shop and seemed to leave his self-assurance in the back room. Silently he watched Rose bundle the roses into white paper tied with a scarlet ribbon.
She handed the bouquet to him. “I hope your aunt recovers and is able to celebrate her birthday in comfort.”
He gravely accepted the bouquet. “I am certain these flowers will be much appreciated.”
Their gazes met for the space of several heartbeats. An almost-smile quivered on his lips and Rose guessed he knew she was aware of his fabricated relative. Neither of them mentioned the ruse as he bid her good day and left the store.
Pain burned in her vinegar-anointed hand. A different sort of heat quickened her pulse as she watched from the window while her visitor strode down the street. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered or distressed by his interest in her, but either way a strong interest in learning more about William Carmody grew.
Hattie might be able to answer some of her questions.
Chapter Three
“Thank you for the lovely bouquet of roses, William, and for coming to visit. But, have you listened to a word I’ve said this past quarter hour?” Mother berated him over the third course of dinner.
“Yes, I have. But I’ve nothing to say on the matter,” Will replied, as courteously as he could manage. She would not be happy with his answer, for all she wanted to hear was that he would further explore one of the marital prospects she suggested.
His mother set down her fork and offered her full regard. “Which means, I suppose, that you will not attend Lady Smyth’s party and meet Miss Belinda Blake. You will not even make an attempt to enter social life, which you might find you enjoy after all.” Her voice pitched higher as she concluded, “You will not befriend a fine young woman like Miss Belinda or her visiting cousin from Derby, Miss Elizabeth Chesterfield.”