“Lord Sutherland, you simply must tell us about Meredith as a child.” Alex looked at Meredith as if expecting some sort of reaction.
She knew better than to give her one.
“There’s nothing exciting, that much I can promise you,” Meredith assured her.
Ophelia shifted onto her knees. “I’d love to hear more about Meredith when she was a girl. I know she was from a small village and not much more than that.”
“Funny,” Alex remarked. “I’ve known her years longer than you and that’s about all I know of her past as well.”
Derek looked at Meredith, his blue eyes reflecting the gray of the overcast sky above them. “Well, I suppose I can tell you what I remember.”
Chapter 28
He remembered everything.
Years ago, Derek swore to himself he was going to forget. When he first set sail with King’s Ransom, he was certain that by the time his voyage was over, he’d never think of Meredith Castle again. She’d become a distant memory, the details lost forever, replaced by a life of adventure and rollicking good times.
He’d been wrong. The memories never faded; to this day, they remained as vivid and clear as ever. He may have tamped them down with his resentment, but they were all still there. His conversation with Ophelia the night before had opened the floodgates—the possibility of her still loving him making him remember all that was good about her, and helping him to forget that awful day when she’d told him otherwise.
He spoke to the group, never taking his eyes off Meredith’s. “She was always so cheerful,” he reminisced. “Sunshine, I’d call her. With that blond hair and personality, it was impossible to be anything but happy in her presence.”
Ophelia placed her hand to her chest. “That’s so thoughtful. What a sweet little boy you must have been.”
He noticed Lady Alexandra had grown quiet, something that in his experience wasn’t quite normal, but didn’t let that discourage him from continuing. He’d talk until Meredith indicated it was time not to.
“And she loved being out of doors. She was quite the horsewoman, beating me in every race.”
“You told my brother you didn’t ride,” Ophelia practically squealed.
Meredith was plucking blades of grass out of the ground. “I never said I didn’t ride, just that I preferred not to.”
Derek grinned. “She was quite good. There wasn’t much else to do in Middlebury, except ride horses, so we got plenty of practice. But her greatest gift was her music. She was an exceptional musician.”
Meredith was looking down now, studying the ground as if the grass captivated her attention entirely.
“She wasn’t good in the way so many people are—having to learn how to play an instrument just to appease their parents as children, but truly gifted. She practiced constantly, loud enough that you could hear her clear out to the road in front of her home. That’s how I knew how good she was. I’d be passing by and hear her . . . and I always stopped to listen.”
“I’d nearly forgotten how much she used to play,” Alex said, speaking as though Meredith wasn’t sitting right next to her. “After she first arrived in London, she’d often play for her friends, but not as much now. She was truly a virtuoso, better than anyone I’d ever heard before.”
Derek sighed. “I can’t imagine being so good at something and not wanting to do it all the time.”
Still, she didn’t look up. He suspected she may actually be counting the blades now, trying to remove herself as far from the conversation as possible.
“She sounds like a delight.” Ophelia smiled.
Her smile was infectious and he grinned along with her. “She truly was. Meredith was one of the happiest people I’ve ever known, and it’s been my good fortune having had her in my life.”
It wasn’t until he’d spoken the words that he realized what he’d just said.
He looked at the others, both girls sharing similar quizzical expressions. He’d only meant to think that last part, but his tongue seemed to have outpaced his mind. “Is there any wine in there?” He grinned, acting as if he’d said nothing at all. “All this talking has me parched.”
A month ago, if asked how he felt about Meredith Castle, he would have answered that he regretted having ever met her. But even that wasn’t completely true. She’d been a bright spot in his life. He’d always had a loving family, but she’d made his life special in a way that no one else could. He felt better for having known her, for loving her. She truly gave him purpose, direction.
Without her, he never felt right anywhere.
He knew that was why he’d never stay in Scotland for any extended period of time. He couldn’t imagine anywhere being his home without her there. Even after all these years, after all the pain, she was still where he belonged.
And it had always been far easier to run from it than to accept that daunting realization.
“Shall we get back to business?” Alex stood up and dusted off her bottom. “There are still plenty of items on the list that need to be found. I’d hate for the other team to beat us to them.”
The others followed suit, each one standing and helping return the remnants of the makeshift picnic to the satchel. Suddenly, Alex tripped and fell to the ground.
“Lady Alexandra?” Derek ran to her side. “Are you all right? What happened?”
She was crying and clutched at her ankle. “I twisted my ankle,” she wailed. “I must have fallen in that hole over there.” She nodded toward a patch of flat grass.
Derek followed her gaze, but saw nothing. “I don’t see any hole . . .”
Alex grimaced. “Oh, my ankle!”
He went to her foot. Her gown had inched up just enough for him to get a glimpse of the injury, or the apparent lack thereof. Her ankle was exquisite—delicate, unmarred by so much as a scratch. “May I?” He nodded toward the affected extremity.
Ophelia went to her side and held her hand.
Alex pulled her gown up a little higher, relinquishing her leg to his manual examination. He first felt the foot, then the ankle, and the lowest part of her calf. Still, he couldn’t detect the slightest part out of place.
“Do you think you can walk?” Ophelia asked, her brown eyes wide with worry.
He looked back at Meredith, who was standing silently at her friend’s feet, arms akimbo.
Alex hesitated before speaking. “I believe I can manage. Perhaps Ophelia can help me back to the house?”
Derek looked over at Ophelia. There was no way the petite, slip of a girl could help to crutch anyone. “I don’t think so. I’ll be the one to carry you.”
“No!” Alex howled. “You can’t. This is Ophelia’s home, I’m sure she’ll know the route better than you.”
He bit back a sarcastic remark. He’d navigated oceans for the last five years and she was worried he couldn’t find his way through a field of wildflowers? “I’m sure I can manage to get you back safely.”
“No!” she shouted again. “We have no chaperone and it wouldn’t be proper with you, a gentleman, escorting me back alone. Especially with your reputation.”
He was just about to say something when Meredith came forward.
“We’ll all go back together,” she offered.
Finally, someone was speaking sensibly.
Alex vehemently shook her head. “There’s no reason why my little injury should ruin your good time. You two can find the remainder of the items on the list, and Ophelia will be back to join you just as soon as she gets me tucked into bed. She’s more than happy to do this for me, aren’t you?”
Ophelia was looking up at the sky when she heard her name. “It doesn’t look good. Perhaps it would be best to seek shelter for now? And then we can all go back together, after it rains.”
Alex
’s eyes fluttered. “I don’t know if I can wait that long. The pain is excruciating.”
Derek tried not to laugh. Her ankle wasn’t even swollen, so her claim of discomfort was hardly believable. Still, he couldn’t fathom why the girl would have cause to lie.
Ophelia lifted her chin. “I’ll take her.”
Alex stood up with a good amount of assistance from the others and started limping away with the help of her human crutch, the poor Ophelia.
Derek watched until the two women had walked out of sight. Only then did he turn to look at Meredith.
She was standing behind him, holding the list. “Should we get on with it, then?”
He didn’t want to. She was blatantly ignoring the previous conversation and causing an almost awkward situation to escalate. He wanted to talk about what he’d said, to ask her why. Why did she no longer ride horses? Why didn’t she play her pianoforte like she used to?
Why had she turned him away if she’d been so certain she was in love with him?
The forewarning of thunder sounded in the near distance. This time it was louder, more foreboding.
“What’s next on the list?” he asked. The wind had picked up and was blowing her gown tightly against her form. It was impossible to concentrate on that ridiculous list while her physique was on display.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It must be some sort of plant. I can’t even pronounce it.”
He chuckled. “It’s obvious that Miss Marshall had a heavy hand in creating the list.”
She smiled in return. “The least they could have done is dumb it down for us non-natives.”
The skies darkened, rolling gray clouds blowing in from the east obstructed what little bit of sunlight remained.
“The storm came up faster than I expected. I don’t think we’ll get back to the house before it starts to pour.” He frowned, silently weighing their options. The skies were growing blacker by the second, indicating a fairly brutal storm was upon them.
Meredith looked up just as the first few drops of rain started to pelt them. “What do you propose?” she asked, gently worrying her lip with her teeth.
He didn’t answer straight away, consumed by the vision of her nibbling at her lip, wishing it was his. “Um, the gardener’s cottage? Didn’t Miss Marshall say it was unoccupied?”
“She also mentioned an issue with the roof.”
He glanced over at the structure. It looked like something from medieval times, its stone walls crumbling from the outside in. The thatch roof had indeed seen better days; centuries even.
The rain was coming in sheets now, the sound deafening. Meredith said something impossible to hear. Then she pointed toward the cottage.
He understood that well enough. He took her by the elbow and pulled her toward the house. The door was locked.
Derek pressed up against it, testing it. He motioned for Meredith to stand back, then took a few steps away himself. He counted to three, mouthing the words with a fair amount of exaggeration so she wouldn’t be surprised by what happened next. At the count of three, he thrust into the door. The door frame splintered as the door flung open.
He cleared the shards with his boot, then held out his hand for her to take. She hesitated at first, so he held it out further, his gaze locking with hers.
Finally, she accepted and he pulled her inside.
Chapter 29
The cottage was small. There was only one dimly lit room, the dirty windows obscuring most light from getting in. Much of the furniture and non-necessities had been removed, leaving only a bed in one corner and a wooden chair by the fireplace. There was a small pile of wood leftover in the hearth, which led Meredith to believe that the newly deserted cottage might have been used to accommodate the occasional rendezvous by the house staff.
She stood in the center of the room, hugging herself tightly. She was freezing—the storm also brought a sudden dip in the temperature, and her wet clothes weren’t helping.
Derek must have been thinking the same thing. He stooped down and started assembling the wood in the fireplace to get a fire started.
She perched on the corner of the bed, the straw mattress having seen better days. “Thank you,” she said after seeing the first promising sparks come from the fireplace. “I suppose it’s a good thing that you stayed behind and not Ophelia. I’m quite certain neither one of us would have the wherewithal to start a fire.”
He looked back and smiled. “Don’t be too impressed. It’s nothing really.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, an awkward tension between them setting her ill at ease. She knew it was up to her to speak, to say something remotely profound, given he’d said so much already. “And thank you for those kind words earlier.”
There, she’d said it.
He stopped what he was doing, hesitating a moment before walking toward her. “I’d feel better if you sat on the blanket. Who knows what’s happened on this mattress.”
She complied, standing up as he removed the picnic blanket from his satchel, then spread it across the bed. Meredith sat back on the bed, the small room making it nearly impossible not to watch every move he was making.
He removed his jacket, hanging it over the back of the wooden chair to dry. His shirt was damp and clung to his strong shoulders and arms. She watched the muscles flex, dancing under the damp fabric as he stirred the flames with a poker he’d found hiding along the wall. Heat from the fire filled the room quickly.
The thunder was coming more frequently now. Occasionally, a bolt of lightning would strike, illuminating the gray sky and the landscape surrounding them.
“We’ll just wait for the storm to dissipate before heading back to the house. Or, with any luck, the others will have sent a search party and a dry carriage will come to retrieve us shortly.”
With any luck.
She found herself not wanting to be rescued quite yet. The way he’d spoken about her stirred emotions she hadn’t felt for quite a while, that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel. She’d believed he hated her all this time, but the words he’d chosen indicated otherwise.
Those weren’t the words one used to describe an enemy.
“I meant them,” he said as if he’d somehow heard her thoughts. “Every one.”
She said nothing in return—there really wasn’t anything she could say. And even if there was, how could she? Although she knew Derek, so much had changed between them. She looked down and retied the ribbon on her left wrist that had come undone during the ensuing chaos between Alex’s injury and the sudden downpour.
“What is that?” he asked, pointing to her wrist. “I believe I saw Lady Alexandra wearing something similar, but not Miss Marshall. Is it some sort of fashion statement? I’ve seen several women with them on.”
“Not really.”
“Are they significant then?”
Meredith touched the ribbon. While there were no specific rules condemning one for speaking about the Ribbons, it was an unspoken rule that you only revealed what was absolutely necessary. “It signifies membership.”
“A club? Like a ladies’ auxiliary?”
“In a way . . . only not as helpful.”
He grinned lopsidedly, a disarming boyish grin. “Then what do you do? Doesn’t every club have a purpose?”
“Ladies’ clubs maybe, but not men’s. Look at White’s. Members don’t actually do anything.”
He nodded. “Point taken. So, what’s the advantage? Why would I ever want to wear your yellow ribbon?”
“There are certain benefits to wearing the primrose ribbon. Those with ribbons are often regarded quite highly by others and it sets us apart. And I’m afraid you can’t wear the ribbon since you’re not an eligible female.”
“Which I thank God for every day of my
life, just so I don’t have to know the difference between yellow and primrose.” He laughed. “Why doesn’t Miss Marshall have one then? Isn’t she both eligible and female?”
Meredith leaned back on her hands. “I hope she will. She’ll be nominated and then she’ll have to go through the rigorous process of pledging her membership, but I have all the faith in the world that she’ll succeed at earning her ribbon.”
“And what makes you so certain?”
Going Rogue (Ribbons and Rogues Book 1) Page 20