Renée

Chapter 8

We walk down the halls to Renée's room in silence, the quiet weighing on me the entire time. None of us speaks as Maryanne turns the knob and pushes the door open. I'm escorted back into the room I wanted to escape a short while earlier, but for some reason, I don't feel as intimidated as before.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Nigel walks me to the love seat and helps me sit.

"I can take care of Lady Renée, Sir Nigel," Maryanne says as she walks up beside him.

"I'll stay."

"Pardon my rudeness, but I feel you should return to your room as well."

"What do you mean?"

"I would suggest you go wash off."

Confused, Nigel looks down at his clothes and chuckles at the grime. "I see. Then, I'll leave it to you." He nods and leaves the room, closing the door.

Maryanne curtsies at him before turning her attention to me. "Now, let me see your hand." She sits beside me and unties the bloodstained handkerchief. Her eyes widen as it falls to the ground by my feet. "Lady Renée, what happened?"

"I held a rose."

"It looks quite painful." A shaky breath escapes her.

"It's fine. I did it to myself." I try to pull my hand away, but she tightens her grip.

She continues to stare at my palm before looking into my eyes. "A lady should never willingly injure herself."

"Never?"

"You should never, no matter the circumstances."

A faint smile spreads over my lips. "I'll remember that."

"Good," she says as a knock sounds through the door. "Come in."

The door opens and two maids enter the room. "Lady Maryanne, we've brought the first aid kit you requested," one says as they bring the kit to the coffee table.

"Thank you. Please begin drawing the bath for the lady," Maryanne says. They curtsy and make their way into the ensuite bathroom.

She looks back at me. "We should remove the remaining thorns from your palm. It would be terrible if they caused an infection." She grabs tweezers from the first aid kit and pulls the remaining thorns from my hand. I wince with every thorn she removes, trying not to shout.

Once she's finished removing them, she reaches into her dress pocket and pulls out a dry handkerchief, placing pressure on my hand to stop the excess bleeding. It takes a few minutes, but the blood eventually stops flowing, scabbing over. She then brushes my hand, clearing any dirt and debris from the skin before pulling out a jar of ointment.

"This may sting a little," she says as she spreads the ointment across my palm. I wince, my hand throbbing for a few moments. She places a clean dressing over the wounds before wrapping a bandage and trying a knot over my palm.

I stare at the finished product with a slight smile. She did exactly what I would have if I was treating a wound this size at the pool. "Thank you, Maryanne."

"It's nothing. Now, I'm sure the bath is ready. It would be best if you were to warm your body." She takes my hands and helps me stand.

"Thanks."

"Of course." Maryanne smiles as she helps me towards the ensuite.

Like the rest of the manor, the bathroom is beautifully decorated. There's alternating black-and-white tiles, peach wallpaper, tropical plants, and a bathtub sitting in the middle of the room. My eyes trail across the room until they settle on a toilet.