Going Rogue (Ribbons and Rogues Book 1)

by Jefferson, Jessica

  Her eyes grew wide. “You’re removing your jacket?”

  He shrugged the jacket off his shoulders, placing it over a bare spot on the bench. “And my waistcoat if that’s quite all right with you?”

  She was silent, the blatant alarm in her expression having said it all.

  Good, he thought, as he removed his waistcoat. He reached over to place it on top of his jacket, knowing full well that the thin fabric of his shirt was stretched taut across his back, providing Miss Marshall with quite the display of his physique.

  “Now, where do you want me to start?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

  Ophelia pointed to the nearest planter. “That one,” she answered, her voice barely audible.

  He bent over to pick it up. “And where would you like it, Ophelia?” he asked in a low, husky voice. “I’ll do whatever it is you want me to. Tonight, I’m completely at your bidding.”

  She blinked several times, but didn’t answer.

  He chuckled. “Would you like it over on that bench? Or did you want it on the floor?”

  Still, she remained silent, choosing to point instead of responding with actual words.

  He nodded. “I think it’ll be good there, too.” He moved the planter, quite pleased with himself. It usually took a bit more effort than that before he rendered a woman speechless. Even for a seasoned rake like him, this was quite the accomplishment.

  He ought to have been ashamed of himself. He was acting like a complete and utter scoundrel. The innuendos, his behavior—it was abominable.

  And utterly genius. A couple more planters and young Ophelia Marshall would be as good as his.

  He picked up the next pot. “What were you doing down here this late? I thought gardening was more of a daytime sport?”

  She pressed her lips firmly together. “I wasn’t gardening. I was cataloguing. I like to keep thorough and accurate records of all my plants.”

  Cataloguing? Something about that sounded vaguely familiar. “Didn’t you say you like to catalogue when you’re feeling particularly stressed?”

  She shook her head. “I never said that.”

  “After the dinner party? While we were playing Whist? I distinctly remember you mentioning it.”

  Her shoulders fell. “Perhaps I am a bit stressed about something.”

  He set the planter down, then sat on a bench under what appeared to be some sort of citrus tree. He patted the empty seat next to him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

  “With you?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a good listener.”

  She stiffly walked toward him, taking her seat next to him.

  “Why don’t you relax a little?” he urged, sliding his arm behind her on the back of the bench.

  “I am comfortable,” she said flatly, her posture still rigid.

  “Right . . . I see that. Now, what’s bothering you?”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “About . . .”

  “Well, my future.”

  “Your future?” He couldn’t believe it would be this easy! Perhaps he’d just sit back and allow her to propose to him?

  “It would seem that I have some important decisions to make.”

  He leaned closer. “What kind of decisions?”

  She leaned back. “Oh, the important kind,” she repeated nervously.

  “You know, Ophelia, I consider us to be friends now. Good friends.”

  “Y—You do?”

  “Yes. You see, I enjoy your company very much.” He leaned in closer still. “Very much.”

  She shifted back slightly. “I enjoy your company as well.”

  “And your future is important to me.”

  She tried to scoot back again, but the metal arm of the bench prevented her from going any further. “It is?”

  “Of course it is. I want only the best for you. And I would hope you’d want what’s best for me, too.”

  She smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “I think we owe each other as much.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  For a moment, he thought she’d just told him to kiss her. “Could you repeat that?” he asked, taken completely off guard by her swift and unexpected change in demeanor.

  “Kiss me, Derek.”

  Now, he’d enjoyed a fair amount of brandy earlier, but not nearly enough to evoke hallucinations. Here was a beautiful young woman, practically begging to be kissed. Granted, she was an odd duck and liberally covered in dirt at the moment, but despite all that, she was really quite pretty. Yet, he hesitated.

  All of a sudden, that bravado he’d been exhausting all evening began to wane.

  “You want me to kiss you?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply.

  He paused.

  “Now, please. I’d like to get this out of the way as soon as possible, if that’s quite all right with you,” she said, thrusting forward, closing her eyes and opening her lips ever so slightly.

  She looked very much like a fish. An attractive fish, but a fish nonetheless.

  Suddenly, it all felt very, very wrong.

  He leaned in toward her, allowing his lips to faintly touch hers. It felt pathetically chaste, similar to how he’d kiss his mother.

  She was the aggressor, pushing forward and pressing her lips more firmly on his. His heart began pounding wildly in his chest, but not from desire.

  He managed to pull away, withdrawing his arm from behind her.

  “Is that all?” She cocked her head to the side as if studying him.

  He anxiously raked his hand through his hair. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have taken such liberties with you.”

  What he meant to say was, I apologize—that was awful.

  He’d never felt anything more wrong in all his life. Suddenly, the very idea of having to kiss Miss Ophelia Marshall again held very little appeal. She was lovely—her face was beautiful and her petite figure boasted the promise of a firm body and perky breasts. But she wasn’t Meredith. He should have been aroused, should have been mad with desire, and he should have been . . . erect.

  But he wasn’t. In fact, he was the complete opposite. The pickings available out at sea were often slim, and there’d been times he’d had to make do with what was available rather than what he would have liked. Even under those sexually dire circumstances, he’d at least managed to make it through the act with a respectable erection.

  “Did you feel that?” Her smile was radiant as she basked in whatever it was she was feeling.

  He didn’t know how to answer honestly without insulting her and possibly scarring the poor girl for life.

  Then she reached out and gave his hand a reassuring pat. “It’s all right—I didn’t either.”

  Derek pulled back his hand as if she’d just bit it and jumped up from his seat on the bench. “What didn’t you feel?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Anything,” she answered softly.

  He resisted the urge to scratch his head, confusion reigning over logic at the moment. “You didn’t feel anything.”

  She stood, joining him, a new sense of confidence appearing to have washed over in the brief moments that had passed since she’d first propositioned him. “Don’t get me wrong, I find you to be a most attractive man. And I know my mother dotes on you, but I feel nothing for you but friendship. That’s not at all how a husband and a wife should be.”

  Was she . . . rejecting him?

  Him?

  He was speechless.

  “It’s a case of simple science, I’m afraid. You and I just aren’t compatible in the biological sense.”

  “You’re rejecting me, then?” he finally said alou
d after he’d managed to find his ability to speak again.

  “I wouldn’t say reject . . .”

  “What would you say? Deny? Refuse? Dismiss? Renounce? Repudiate?”

  “I suppose reject is what I’d say.” She tucked her hands in her apron pockets. “I think you should stop pursuing me and go find someone you feel a real connection with.”

  She bit her lip. “I haven’t bruised your ego too terribly, have I?”

  He chuckled. Actually, she had. To think—Lord Sutherland’s reputation of rogue, destroyed by a would-be botanist. “I think I’ll survive my broken heart, Miss Marshall.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but will my mother?”

  “I’m sure I won’t be the only gentleman to pay you a call.”

  Ophelia smiled again.

  She really was a sweet girl. That was what had initially attracted him to the idea of marrying her. And that was the crux of it.

  Derek made his way to the workbench and began replacing his missing clothing, piece by piece.

  He’d never been attracted to Miss Marshall. A little, he supposed, but more in an appreciative manner—much like one would admire a stunning piece of art. He’d wanted the idea of her, not necessarily the person.

  “That’s what the girls said earlier.”

  He stopped, mid-button on his waistcoat. “You’re referring to Miss Castle and Lady Alexandra?”

  She started wiping down her gardening tools. “Meredith, mostly. Alexandra thought she was being ridiculous.”

  “And just what did Miss Castle tell you?”

  Ophelia paused. “She told me that one day, a man will kiss me and I’ll know it’s special right away. And if I’m not entirely certain, then I only have to kiss another man to be convinced.”

  With advice like that from her supposed friends, he could count on seeing Ophelia thoroughly ruined in record time. “I’m not certain—”

  “Because,” she interrupted. “After I kiss another man, then I’ll have something to compare it to. Meredith said she didn’t need to do that. Because she knew right away, from her very first kiss, that the man who’d kissed her was her true love. She said that every kiss following her first, paled in comparison.”

  He’d been her first kiss, of that he was completely certain. He remembered it better than he had any other moment in his life.

  Derek crossed his arms in front of him. “Did she say anything else?”

  “Just that he came back to her one day and kissed her again.”

  “Then what happened?” he asked, careful not to sound too anxious.

  Ophelia shrugged. “She said it didn’t quite work out for them.”

  He nodded. “Then perhaps she’d been mistaken. I can’t believe if she truly thought she loved this man that she’d let him go so easily.”

  “But it wasn’t easy,” she explained. “She said circumstances tore them apart and that she’s never really recovered.”

  Derek took a sudden breath, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

  “Is everything all right? You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost?”

  Bewildered by the story, Derek tried to get his bearings. Could Meredith really have felt that way? If she didn’t, then why . . . why would she have gone to all the trouble to create such an elaborate tale? He found it hard to believe that Meredith would put so much effort, so much of herself, into a story just to dissuade Ophelia from accepting his proposal. For years he’d harbored resentment toward the woman who’d crushed his heart by admitting that she never really cared at all. But what if she had? What if?

  Derek looked at Ophelia, who appeared to be genuinely worried about his current state of dismay. “I think perhaps I just did.”

  “Did what?” she asked.

  “See a ghost . . . or at the very least, a brief glimpse into the past.”

  Chapter 26

  The next evening, Ophelia joined Meredith and Alex to discuss their plans for the following day.

  Meredith sat at the vanity mirror, absently brushing through her hair, as her mind recounted the events of the previous night. Telling the girls about Derek had made it all perfectly clear to her. She’d been hiding behind a façade of fine silk and champagne, running from the past. But the gowns, the dresses, even the silly primrose ribbon—they simply weren’t enough anymore. She stopped what she was doing, the silver brush still in hand. How many hours had she spent staring at her own reflection over the last five years? Too many, she thought regretfully. And she was just now starting to realize that she didn’t much care for the person staring back at her.

  Things couldn’t go on like this forever. And she couldn’t very well spend the rest of her life pretending it could.

  Meredith joined Ophelia in front of the massive wardrobe.

  “Since your aunt is arriving tomorrow, I thought we could wear our finest gowns to dinner.” Ophelia announced. “You know—really make it an event.”

  Alex lounged on the bed, thumbing through a magazine. “I suppose I could manage to find something.”

  Meredith smiled. “I was thinking along those same lines. I saved my mint gown for just such an occasion. You should try on this plum one. It’ll require some adjustments, but I’m sure you’ll look lovely in it.”

  “Splendid,” Ophelia exclaimed, taking the gown. “I have quite the day planned for us tomorrow.”

  Alex looked up from the magazine. “Hopefully nothing that involves nature. I’ve never spent so much time out of doors in my life.”

  Ophelia’s shoulders sank as she visibly deflated before their eyes.

  “You didn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Meredith said obligingly, glaring over at her friend on the bed.

  Ophelia shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. I owe you so much.”

  “Nonsense,” Meredith interjected. “You don’t owe us a single thing. You’ve already shown such hospitality.”

  “No, it’s more than that.” Ophelia took Meredith’s hand and led her to the bed, where the two girls took their seat next to Alex. “You just might have changed the entire path of my future, and there are no words to express that sort of gratitude.”

  Alex closed the magazine, obviously resolved to the fact that she wouldn’t be getting anymore reading done. “What are you going on about?”

  “I want to be a Ribbon,” Ophelia said proudly.

  “You have my nomination,” Meredith said without hesitation, looking expectantly over at Alex.

  “Are you certain you want to do this? It’s quite a bit of work,” was all Alex said.

  Ophelia nodded. “I’m ready for the change. I’ve spent my entire life with only plants as my friends and I think becoming a Ribbon will help me see what I’ve truly been missing.”

  Ophelia took the gown and disappeared behind the dressing screen.

  “This is awfully sudden,” Meredith called over to her. “Was there anything in particular that triggered this change of heart?”

  Just as soon as Meredith had finished asking the question, Ophelia came out from behind the screen.

  “You’re stunning,” Meredith remarked. Ophelia was a vision when she wasn’t wearing her apron and dirt from her garden.

  The girls turned to Alex, awaiting her approval. She briefly looked up from her magazine and nodded, then went back to reading.

  “That means she thinks you look beautiful,” Meredith translated.

  “It does?”

  “If she didn’t think so, you wouldn’t have gotten the nod.”

  Ophelia smiled. “You were asking about what happened to inspire this need for a drastic change?”

  “It is rather sudden, that’s all,” Meredith explained.

  “It’s not a secret,” Ophelia answered, hands on her hips. “He
kissed me.”

  Meredith’s heart sank to her feet. She knew who he was without having to be told.

  “Who?” Alex scowled, sitting upright.