“Sounds like a problem for my laundress.”
Brayan shook his head. “I don’t think yer laundress is going to be able to fix this one.”
Derek took a deep breath. “I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about the care and keeping of jackets.”
His cousin smiled. “We’re not really talking about clothing now, are we?”
Derek didn’t bother to answer. He had to believe Brayan had it all wrong. Because, if his cousin was right, it meant he’d never truly be able to shed his feelings for Meredith.
And he just couldn’t accept that.
Chapter 17
Meredith was abruptly brought out of her slumber by the morning’s newspaper being thrown atop her sleeping body. She looked up through one squinted eye and saw Aunt Cynthia hovering above her, arms set squarely on her hips.
She reluctantly opened the other eye and sat up, her head aching from all the wine she’d consumed the night prior. “Good morning to you, too,” she mumbled, her mouth dry as wool. Meredith picked up the paper. “You didn’t by chance bring me a tray so that I could eat something while enjoying The Times? Because that would be lovely if you did. I’m famished.”
Cynthia pressed her lips into a thin line. “Didn’t I warn you about making a scene at the duke’s last night?”
“You did,” Meredith acknowledged, flipping through the pages.
“And yet it would appear that you didn’t listen. Again.”
She found the brief article recounting the evening’s events and quickly skimmed over it. “My name’s not even mentioned.” Amazing.
Cynthia’s brows furrowed together. “The work of his grace, I’m sure. Still, you should read the part about the pretty girl at the piano and her dubious choice in song selection. The writer may have spared putting your name in print, but anyone who’s ever met you could easily figure out just who the girl in question is.”
Meredith handed the paper back to her aunt. “I’m not the one you should be angry with. You know how Glastonbury can be. He asked that I entertain him, so I obliged. Who am I not to indulge a host as generous as the Duke? If you should be mad at anyone, it’s yourself. You’re the one who insisted I attend.”
“The Duke makes a special effort to invite the Ribbons, and I merely suggested—”
“When have you merely suggested anything?” she interrupted. “I never had a choice in the matter. I’m a Ribbon, remember? We do what’s expected of us, not what we want.”
The party had provided her with the perfect opportunity to forget her troubles and put her worries up on the shelf for the night. She’d willingly overindulged on wine with dinner, hoping the foul tasting liquid would help numb her mind.
Only, it was quite difficult to forget about something that was right in front of her face. She’d spotted Derek flirting with her good friend, Alex’s, mother. It was nothing out of the ordinary—Lord and Lady McBride had one of those marriages where each partner chose to look the other way while the other entertained lovers half their age. Alex’s mother was practically chasing Derek across the lawn, and he was only too willing to indulge her.
That’s when Glastonbury had asked her to play. She should have declined, knowing it would cause a scene. But at that moment, her need to capture Derek’s attention far outweighed any damage her actions would cause her already tarnished reputation. And she’d gotten the response she’d wanted. He’d been so angry, he’d taken her out to the garden . . .
She closed her eyes, remembering everything. Once he’d kissed her, she’d found it impossible to control her desire any longer. She felt a bit like a carriage that had become separated from its horse, completely out of control. She knew she should have stopped him, protested when he reached down—but she couldn’t. It just felt so good to touch him, to be touched by him . . . and so right.
And then, just like that, the carriage had come to a screeching halt.
He’d called it a mistake, a lack of judgment on his part.
More simply—he didn’t want her.
Meredith swallowed past the lump in her throat, an indication of the tears that were sure to come.
Cynthia didn’t press the subject. Instead, she relaxed her stance and took a seat at the edge of Meredith’s bed. “I have other news.”
Meredith welcomed the change in conversation, not wanting to give the night at Glastonbury’s any more thought. “What is it?”
“I’m getting married!”
Meredith heard the words, their meaning not quite resonating in her mind. “Married?”
“Yes! Mr. Darby proposed.” She flashed a large ring on her finger, a sapphire. “He gave me a gift.”
She leaned in to get a closer look at the jewel, such an outrageous size she doubted her aunt could hold up her hand without additional support. “It’s beautiful,” she said weakly, still shocked by the announcement. “I didn’t think you were planning on marrying so soon. You only mentioned it a few weeks ago.”
Cynthia stood and walked toward the vanity. “Darling, it’s been years since my last husband died. This face isn’t going to last forever.” She examined herself in the mirror, patting and massaging the skin around her eyes. “Now that the Ribbons are standing on their own again, I finally feel as if I’m free to follow wherever it is that love may take me. I owe it all to you, darling.”
“Yes, well, thank you,” she muttered. Meredith sat on the side of her bed, her bare feet dangling. “Marriage—what does that mean, exactly?”
Cynthia began pulling at the slightly loose skin gathered at the base of her neck. “It means I shall join Mr. Darby at his home on the coast. I’m sure we’ll find our way back to London sooner or later, but really, as it stands, there’s no point in hanging on to this old place.” Satisfied with her appearance, she began primping her hair, tucking a stray flyaway back into its chignon. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“The coast?” Meredith repeated, as if it were an exotic location. She might as well have said Egypt. “Will we at least be returning for the Season?”
Cynthia turned around. “I’m not quite sure you understand.” She walked over to the bed and sat by Meredith again, taking her hands. “I didn’t say we.”
Meredith pulled away. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t expect Mr. Darby to take us both on? His children are all grown, with lives and families of their own. He’s not looking for a twenty-three-year-old ward.”
The magnitude of what her aunt was suggesting began to set in. “What am I to do then? I have no money . . . I can’t go back to Middlebury.”
Cynthia frowned. “Please, Meredith. There’s no need to be so dramatic. The obvious solution would be to marry. You knew the time had come, especially with your exit from the Ribbons soon approaching. Besides, things are looking up for you, now that you’ve met the Marshalls. How are things going with Mr. Marshall?”
Meredith swallowed back the bile that was beginning to work its way up her throat. “It’s going well enough, but we’ve only started to get to know one another. I’m in no way close to securing a proposal.”
“Then you’ll just have to work a little harder, now won’t you? I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you’ll land a proposal in no time.”
“And if I don’t?”
Cynthia pressed her lips together. “I don’t like to think that way. You’re a Ribbon after all, and Ribbons always do quite all right for themselves. I suppose we can figure out something. If worse came to worse, I suppose you could return to live with your mother.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This woman had taken her in, promised her a better life, and now she was ripping it all out from under her. “I can’t go back. I promised Mother that I’d give her a better life, the life she was deprived of. I can’t let her down.”
&nbs
p; Cynthia patted her knee. “Meredith, this was never meant to be a permanent arrangement. It was only ever supposed to be a stepping stone for you. It was my responsibility to give you a proper start in Society, it was your responsibility to take that start and make yourself a life from it.”
“How long do I have?” she asked, her voice remarkably calm despite the panic she felt inside.
“The banns will have to be read. And there are arrangements to be made. I was hoping for a rather intimate affair, close friends and family. Perhaps just a hundred or so at the wedding breakfast . . .”
“That small?” Meredith blurted, no longer bothering to censor what came out of her mouth. Polite behavior had a time and place. This was not it.
“And I’ll have to make sure his residence is ready for my arrival . . .”
That was code for redecorated from top to bottom to her liking. “How long?” Meredith repeated, more slowly this time.
“You have through the summer.”
Meredith did the math in her head. The rest of summer—two months to secure a husband, or . . . well, there was no alternative.
Two months. It wasn’t much time, but it was all she had to work with.
Chapter 18
As if delivered from the heavens above, a reprieve in the form of an invitation had come the next day. The Marshall’s had invited Meredith to dine with them.
It had been almost a week since Lord Glastonbury’s party. She’d reconciled that her unfortunate incident in the garden was just that—an isolated incident. She’d experienced her own moment of weakness, or as he so eloquently put it, a lapse in judgment. During those stolen moments in the garden, she’d briefly entertained the idea that perhaps she did still harbor a certain fondness for Derek, and that he’d shared a similar sentiment. But in the week since, she’d decided not to waste another thought on such a preposterous notion. The man in the garden wasn’t Derek Weston, but rather a pompous Earl parading around as Lord Sutherland.
And that man wasn’t fit to lick Derek’s bootstraps.
Meredith gave herself one final look-over in her vanity mirror before leaving the house. She’d selected a simple cream gown to wear. There were no flounces, no swatches of lace—it was just a simple straight-cut gown, with a square bodice and cap sleeves in a color closely resembling fresh milk. She knew the modest cut accentuated her figure and Lizzie had done a magnificent job arranging her hair into a complementary chignon. Even the ribbon she wore on her wrist seemed to sit a little straighter than it normally did.
She’d never looked better, and for a good reason.
This was, after all, not just dinner. This was a deciding battle in what had become a war. Her appearance was no less strategic than any captain’s tactical plans; her appearance being the geographical landscape that may or may not cost her the victory.
“Meredith!” Ophelia greeted her with a hug.
Meredith smiled graciously, hugging her back. “What have I done to deserve such a welcome?”
Ophelia beamed. “I’m just so happy to see you. It’s been ages since we last spent time together. Mama’s had me running all about getting ready for our holiday.”
“Holiday?” Meredith repeated, her voice stressed. “What holiday? Will you be gone long? Where are you going? What about the Season?” She didn’t need the Marshall family disappearing for a trip away in the midst of her greatest crisis to date.
Ophelia took a step back and laughed. “It’s a short holiday, and if you’ll accept, I’d love to take you with us. Mama has a vision for a great house party at our country estate. Tell me you’ll come along?”
Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus began sounding in her head. A house party!
Meredith tried to remain calm, despite her beating heart threatening to pound its way right out of her chest. An extended stay with the Marshall family would undoubtedly present an opportunity for Mr. Marshall to get to know her better. Not to mention the endless potential for a stolen moment or two alone—estates were riddled with seldom-used rooms and dark corners.
Isn’t that all it would take to land a proposal—some light conversation and a kiss or two?
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Meredith answered.
Ophelia clasped her hands together, and bit her bottom lip. “I do hope you can find a way to come with me.”
Meredith quickly dismissed the concern with a wave. “I’m sure it’ll all work out,” she replied nonchalantly. When in truth, she intended to move heaven and earth in order to attend.
“Let’s go join the others. I believe they’ve all gathered in the drawing room.” Ophelia grabbed her hand and began leading her down the hall.
“Others?” She’d been under the impression that this was going to be a small dinner and there weren’t going to be other guests. She hadn’t really planned on having to vie for Mr. Marshall’s attention.
“Just a few.” Ophelia opened the doors.
Meredith’s entrance was met with what had to be at least twenty people staring back at her. “I can see you’ve planned a real intimate affair here.”
Ophelia shrugged sheepishly. “Mama has a tendency toward the grandiose. To her, this is an intimate dinner party.”
Lady Marshall walked in between the girls. “Ophelia, Miss Castle hasn’t even been introduced yet.”
“I don’t think such a well-known lady like Miss Castle requires a formal introduction. Hello again,” Garrett Marshall bowed. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Mr. Marshall, thank you for your flattery, empty as it may be. I feel so underdressed. I thought it was just a simple invitation to dinner, not an actual dinner party. If I had known, I would have taken a bit more care with my appearance, instead of just throwing on this old thing.” Meredith smiled, trying her best to appear demure.
“Miss Castle, your beauty is unrivaled, no matter what you wear.” He kissed her hand, and she purposefully did not pull away, allowing his touch to linger far longer than necessary.
Lady Marshall coughed politely, interrupting their exchange. “Please pardon my son, Miss Castle. He appears to be quite enthusiastic over your arrival.”
“He’s been talking about it all night,” Ophelia tattled.
Garrett didn’t refute his sister’s remark. Instead, he merely flashed a debonair smile Meredith’s way and promptly excused himself to meet the other guests.
Lady Marshall rebuked her daughter with a glance. “You shouldn’t embarrass your brother like that. It’s not every day my son takes an interest in a lovely young lady.” She smiled, excusing herself.
Meredith could have floated her way to the dinner table. To have Lady Marshall’s endorsement meant she was practically betrothed. All she had to do was get him to say the words, give her a fancy ring, and the deed would be done.
Dinner was served at nine.
The menu card read that the evening’s meal would be no less than twelve dishes, which pleased Meredith immensely. Unlike other ladies, she’d never been afraid to show her great appreciation for food.
“You’ll sit here, by my brother.” Ophelia pointed to the tent card placed near the charger.
“And where will you be sitting? To my left or to my right?”
“Neither. Mama placed me beside Lord Sutherland. Much to my dismay, Mama’s adopted the practice of seating by romantic potential.”
Meredith wrapped an arm around her middle, her stomach having just flipped over on itself. “Lord Sutherland is here? But I didn’t see him.”
“That’s because he’s in the study with my father, enjoying cigars with the other men. He’ll actually be the one sitting to your left. I know it goes against convention, considering his rank, but Mama thought it would be nice if you two had a chance to catch up, seeing that you’re from the same village and all. She just loves coinc
idences.”
Meredith picked up the card and read it for herself, just to make sure.
“Your mother invited him?”
Ophelia nodded. “Of course. It appears she has this Season all worked out. She still has it in her head that by some divine miracle I’ll secure a proposal from Lord Sutherland.”
“Is that what you want?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Does it matter what I want?”
Going Rogue (Ribbons and Rogues Book 1) Page 12