Going Rogue (Ribbons and Rogues Book 1)

by Jefferson, Jessica

  Chapter 30

  Derek sat in the Marshall’s library and gazed out the window, remembering every moment of the day’s events. He had so many questions—about her mother, about why she’d turned him away if she had indeed loved him, and what she wanted now.

  A knock sounded at the door, startling him away from the incessant questions plaguing his mind. “Come in,” he called, expecting Brayan’s large form to come strolling in through the doorway.

  It wasn’t his cousin.

  Derek jumped out of the chair to his feet.

  Lady Cynthia Browning stood before him, undeniably regal despite her slight frame. “Lord Sutherland, I presume?”

  “Yes.” He bowed. “Can I help you with something?” Derek doubted the woman remembered him from the time he’d arrived unannounced in her drawing room. He looked far different now, not that he could say the same about her. The woman hadn’t aged a day, let alone half a decade.

  She smiled sweetly, taking a seat across from him, then gestured for him to join her. “I hope you can.” She held out her hand and opened her fingers. A gold ring with a green center stone sat in her palm.

  The ring he’d once given Meredith.

  Apparently, the older woman did remember. “Where did you get that,” he asked, reaching out and gently plucking it from her hand.

  She sat back in the chair and relaxed, as if making herself comfortable for a long conversation. A conversation he wasn’t quite certain he was up to having.

  “My niece gave it to one of the servants to sell. Fortunately, that servant brought it to me.”

  The words stung, but he tried to appear unaffected. “And how did you know it was mine?”

  The woman sighed. “It wasn’t easy. I knew just who it was that had given the ring to my niece, but I couldn’t quite grasp how the boy would have come across something of such worth.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Perhaps he didn’t know the ring was valuable when he gave it away?”

  “I figured as much,” she nodded. “I can spot a fine emerald at twenty paces. But discovering the origin of the crest engraved on its side—that I had to have some help with.”

  Derek held the ring up, examining it in the light. The Sutherland crest was carefully etched into either side of the gold band. “Well, I thank you for returning it to me.” He’d always held onto the hope that perhaps Meredith hadn’t gotten rid of it, especially after finding out the meaning behind it. It was a family heirloom, going back for generations. At least now he knew it was safe.

  “It wasn’t long after that when I concluded Lord Sutherland and that boy from Middlebury were indeed the same person.”

  He slid the ring over his smallest finger. “That couldn’t have been so difficult. After all, I’ve never kept my past a secret.”

  “I can’t imagine you’re particularly forthcoming with it either. It is a bit hard to believe that a young farmer from a tiny village could evolve into such a renowned figure, traipsing around the world, and building a small empire for himself.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” he replied, dismissing her comment with a flippant wave of his hand.

  “Lord Sutherland—you once loved my niece very much.”

  His breath caught, startled by the honesty of her remark. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Not so long,” she said. “I wanted you to know that if you did, by chance, still harbor some of those same feelings that I won’t stand in the way of things.”

  He took off the ring and wrapped his fist tightly around it. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

  She leaned in toward him. “You mustn’t blame her for what happened. She was just doing what she had to.”

  Derek stood and raked a hand through his hair. “And what exactly was it she had to do?”

  Lady Browning looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. “She is a Ribbon after all. Meredith couldn’t very well consent to a man with virtually nothing to his name. She had her reputation to think about and you certainly didn’t have one to speak of . . .”

  “I wasn’t good enough.” He finished her thoughts.

  She looked up at him. “But things have certainly changed now, haven’t they?”

  He sneered. “Yes, they have.”

  She smiled again, as if the two were simply enjoying polite conversation over a cup of tea. “And your timing could not have been better. Meredith has found herself in quite the predicament. I’m leaving London soon and she needs to marry before I do. It’s a most pressing matter, I’m afraid.”

  “And you thought I’d be just as likely a candidate as any?”

  Lady Browning nodded. “If only she would have known what was to become of you, I’m certain she won’t be so foolish as to refuse you again.”

  The older woman had just confirmed what he’d feared all along. Meredith’s only motivation before had been fortune and rank—and now he had both. It was never about him, it was about his money.

  “I hear you took good care of my niece earlier, when you were both caught in the rain. Nearly an hour, was it?”

  The nerve of the woman! “I assure you, Madame, that your niece’s virtue is just as intact as it was before the storm.” He couldn’t help but wonder just what the state of her virtue was. “You’ll have to come up with something better than that if you’re trying to extort me into marrying Meredith.”

  Lady Browning squared her shoulders. “I’m doing no such thing. I just thought . . .”

  He strode toward the door, long legs making short work of the distance. “You thought wrong. Now, if there’s nothing else . . .” Derek held the door open for her, gesturing for her to leave.

  “No, that was all, I’m afraid.” Lady Browning straightened her gown and walked out the door, head held high.

  Meredith sat on the bench by the fountain, anxiously awaiting Derek’s arrival. Alex and Ophelia would be looking for her if she wasn’t back soon . . .

  Her heart filled her chest at the first glimpse of him walking up the path. He’d changed, his coat having been thoroughly drenched from the storm, into a dark gray waistcoat and jacket. The dark colors made his bronzed skin stand out that much more.

  He took a seat next to her, saying nothing. His face was stoic, the muscle in his jaw occasionally flexing.

  The same man, who mere hours ago had been so sweet, so kind, was now acting as if nothing had happened. She thought they’d gotten past it all, that things were finally right between them. She’d actually considered the possibility of a future with him. But suddenly, she felt Derek retreating again. And for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why.

  “Do you remember the ring I gave you?” he asked, his tone serious.

  The question came out of nowhere. “I do,” she answered quietly.

  “Do you still have it?”

  She took a shaky breath. “I do not.”

  “You don’t?” He didn’t sound surprised.

  “I didn’t throw it away or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Then what did you do with it?”

  “I had it sold, so the money could be sent to my mother.”

  His brow furrowed together. “And why would you do that? Why does your mother need that money?”

  More confessions that she hadn’t been up to making. “Because she’s been struggling to pay her debts.”

  “If you needed the funds so badly, why didn’t you just sell it sooner?”

  Meredith wrung her hands together. “Because I couldn’t bear to. My mother needed the money, and I had nothing else to give her. I’d already exhausted all my possible resources. I’ve sold all my jewelry—everything I owned that was worth anything. That ring was all I had left.”

  “Why is your mother struggling so
much that she’d turn to you for help?”

  “My aunt helps where she can, but it’s just not enough. She has nothing.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Nothing?”

  His line of questioning had taken a harsh turn that bordered on bizarre. What purpose did this interrogation serve? She’d sent off the ring, and for that, she was remorseful. “Destitute.”

  “I find it difficult to believe your mother is in such financial straits, yet is still able to parade around Brighton and travel around the continent—in luxury, no less.”

  If she’d been drinking anything, she surely would have sprayed it out her mouth. “What makes you think my mother’s been travelling anywhere?” Her mother could barely afford to keep a roof over her head, let alone go on holiday.

  “The King’s Ransom Transports keeps excellent records. I saw her name on one of the registers. And when I last heard from my mother, she asked after you, as she frequently does. She seemed to think that your mother was doing quite well. She said she saw her when she last travelled to Brighton.”

  Meredith shook her head. Impossible. “Well, your mother is mistaken.”

  “Are you calling her a liar?”

  “No, just that she might be mistaken. I have years’ worth of letters from my mother—all explaining why she needed money and how ill she is. My mother can’t even leave to visit me, let alone travel anywhere on one of your ships.”

  “Well, she has. The passenger log doesn’t lie.”

  She was so confused, so very confused. “Why do you suddenly care so much about that damn ring?”

  He arched one brow. “I just find it coincidental that you seemed to have held onto it for sentimental reasons, but the moment you suspected it was worth anything at all, you were more than willing to sell it. It’s interesting just how quickly you’re willing to trade your sentiments for coin. But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything more from you.”

  Meredith stood, having had quite enough of his verbal tirade.

  The fire was indeed extinguished.

  He didn’t speak, or even dare to look at her again after that.

  But she didn’t cry. In fact, she was actually surprised at the lack of tears, considering what an emotional mess she’d been since he’d come to London. But it would seem there was a threshold for tears, and she’d unwittingly crossed it. It was as if the pain she felt was so great, that crying would only trivialize it. No, her heartbreak was best suffered in a soul-crushing silence, like a saint.

  Besides, what would be the point? He’d outdone himself, really. He didn’t deserve her tears . . . he deserved her applause, her admiration, after a performance like that. He’d managed quite superbly to dull her senses using an unequivocal concoction of sex and kindness. You can’t fault a man for being so willing to sacrifice whatever it took to achieve his dreams.

  After all, hadn’t she done the exact same thing?

  She’d been nothing but a distraction to him, an ironic realization, but one that struck her to the core. He saw nothing wrong with fooling her into thinking he still cared for her, and why would he? She’d been a willing enough participant in his little game. It was what he’d been waiting for all along, to finally convince her to fall for him once again.

  Meredith had been a pawn in his scheme to right a wrong from years ago. And she’d fallen for it.

  She’d fallen for him.

  She was so hurt, so devastated by his actions, by his rejection. Now she understood why he resented her so much. She’d done the same to him five years ago. Broken him, and he’d finally succeeded in breaking her right back.

  It had been Meredith’s experience that when life knocked you down, the best thing to do was get back up and . . . look gorgeous.

  Her aunt had finally made it to the Marshall’s, reminding her of the reason she’d travelled there in the first place. She had no more time to stall.

  Lizzie had weaved ribbons through her hair and she’d borrowed some of Alex’s best diamonds, making a mental note to tell Alex that she’d taken them sometime after dinner. She’d decided against the mint gown, and opted for one with a bit more color—vermillion. It was hardly appropriate for an unmarried lady to wear something so bold, but it wasn’t a night for abiding by what was and wasn’t deemed proper.

  Because tonight, she was proposing to Mr. Garrett Marshall.

  Not literally, of course. She was just going to give him an ultimatum, and after his shameless behavior throughout their friendship, she had little doubt he’d be ring shopping by week’s end. Much like cattle, men often needed just a little prodding to get going in the right direction.

  She took a look in the mirror and admired her reflection before stepping out the door. Her dress accentuated her figure divinely and she’d even gone so far as to put on a bit of lip stain. She’d never looked better.

  Or felt worse.

  There was still a bit of time before dinner, so Meredith took a few minutes to walk around and explore the house. Passing the library and inhaling the sweet smell of old leather and brandy, she suddenly knew exactly where she would find Garrett.

  He always smelled of saddle soap and hay—the man spent half his life in the stables. But he’d be alone for the most part, and that meant she’d have ample opportunity to exercise whatever means necessary to convince him that marrying her would be in his best interest.

  She hadn’t much time to lose, having dawdled away the last five years.

  Meredith entered the stable, her nostrils burning at the myriad of odors assaulting them all at once. She walked past the horses, taking the time to pet and coo at each one. The Marshall’s had an impressive number of mounts, obviously bred from the finest stock. It was a luxury that she’d only ever dreamed of, having more than one horse to ride.

  The realization that it could all one day be hers should have made her giddy.

  But it didn’t.

  Her excitement wasn’t building as she made her way through the stable, closer to her future. The feeling deep in the pit of her belly wasn’t one of elation, rather one of apprehension. With every step, her heart protested, screaming to stop. But she was determined to get this over with. She needed a husband before her aunt married at the end of the summer.

  She’d come to London in search of a suitable marriage, and after years of postponement, she’d finally found an acceptable match. She just needed to convince him of that.

  Meredith saw him brushing down a fine looking mahogany-colored stallion. He was talking to the animal in a hushed tone, clearly enjoying the work. Mr. Marshall was an attractive man with an excellent build. His hair was always neat and he never had a bit of stubble on his jaw.

  What more could a woman want? She thought woefully.

  “Mr. Marshall?” she called, sounding surprised.

  He looked up from the horse. “Miss Castle? What are you doing out here?”

  She shrugged. “I thought I’d just come out and see some of the animals. They’re absolutely beautiful.”

  “Thank you. They’re my pride and joy.”

  “As they should be. I haven’t seen horse flesh of such quality since . . . well, ever.”

  He beamed with pride. Aunt Cynthia always told her the only acceptable place to stroke a man was his ego.

  “I’m glad you like them. I honestly didn’t think you had much interest.”

  She shook her head. “I think they’re magnificent animals. I just don’t ride as much as I used to. No need, really. I spend much of my time in Town. I’m sure if I had a country home, something like this, it would be much different.”

  Meredith always knew she’d end up back in the country. There was no mistaking that she loved London—the vibrant life of the city, the people, and the hum of their activity. But she missed the solitude of the country an
d the closeness that only country people seemed to share.

  Despite its booming population, London had a way of magnifying loneliness.

  “I see your point,” he agreed.

  “Were you just out for a ride?”

  He put the brush down. “I was, actually. Just returned a little bit ago. I wanted to make sure he was given a good rub down before I put him away for the night.”