Going Rogue (17 page)

“Lizzie,” Meredith called out to the maid who was frantically moving gowns from one part of the room to another. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a few minutes? You should go fix yourself a cup of tea and rest for a bit while we’re talking.”

“But Miss Castle, there’s so much to do. You still haven’t made up your mind as to what gowns to pack,” she argued in between breaths.

“If you do, I promise to narrow down my selection.” Meredith held her hands together and pleaded her case with wide eyes and a pouty bottom lip.

Lizzie scowled, hesitating briefly before slamming down the lid to the first trunk. “Fine. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“I consider myself warned,” Meredith replied with a single-handed salute.

Lizzie cast her a sideways glance, then exited the room without another word to the contrary.

“Alex?”

“Yes?” She tossed up a grape and caught it with her open mouth.

“How would you like to come with me to the Marshall’s? I’m sure I could get you an invitation.”

“There’s no need, I already received one.”

“You did? Then why aren’t you going?”

Alex turned to her, one brow arched. “Really? You’re trying to be funny, aren’t you?”

“You promised to give her a chance,” Meredith whined.

“I am, but I prefer her sickening sweetness in small doses. That girl makes my teeth ache.”

Meredith set her hands squarely on her hips. “I insist you come with me.”

Alex cast a sideways glance her way. “Well, if
you
insist . . .”

“Then the two of us can work together and convince her not to marry the first gentleman who shows an interest.”

“Are you talking about Lord Sutherland?” Alex sat up, suddenly revealing more interest in the conversation.

“I am.”

“Has he proposed?”

“Not yet. I’m sure he will, though, and her mother is head over heels for the man. Ophelia just wants to make her mother happy, and I’m afraid she’ll accept his proposal for all the wrong reasons.”

“And you believe that’s for the best? To refuse his proposal?”

“She’s so young, so . . . new. Why would a girl like that need to settle for the first offer? There are plenty of other suitors out there, so there’s no need for her to resort to such depths of desperation.”

Alex’s brow shot up her forehead. “So, you’re telling me that accepting Lord Sutherland’s proposal would be an act of
desperation
?”

Meredith shrugged nonchalantly. “I just think she should keep her options open.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Open in case someone else comes along with more to offer than the Earl?”

“Exactly.”

“A peer who holds a more prestigious title?”

“An earl isn’t exactly the top rung of the ladder.” Meredith smiled sweetly.

“Or perhaps a suitor who has a bit more fortune to throw her way?”

“Now, you’re getting it.”

“Someone who’s more attractive than he is?”

“Yes!”

Alex folded her arms across her chest. “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard in my life. He’s got a good title, he’s richer than most, and there’s no one I know who’s as handsome.”

Meredith felt herself deflate.

“Ophelia Marshall is lucky to have Lord Sutherland paying her so much attention. To gamble on the idea that some other man will arrive one day and not just match, but supersede the Earl’s finer traits, is a fool’s game. If you ask me, Ophelia would be wise to jump on the chance to become Countess Sutherland.”

Meredith felt a jolt of righteous indignation zip through her. “What about love? What about her knight in shining armor? The man of her dreams? Doesn’t Ophelia deserve as much?”

“Perhaps Lord Sutherland does love her? Who are you to speak otherwise?”

Meredith felt like the air had just been knocked out of her. The very idea that he’d actually fallen in love with Ophelia filled her chest with a deep ache. Because if he did, then he couldn’t possibly be in love with her anymore.

Alex glared at her. “You seem distracted. Is everything all right?”

Meredith thought for a moment. Aunt Lydia had blindsided her with an alternate version of the truth, Aunt Cynthia had given her two months to find a husband or else, the Ribbons would be ending her membership soon, and her childhood love had returned, reincarnated as a titled pirate, hell-bent on marrying her protégé, while stealing kisses from her every time they were alone.

“Everything is fine,” she answered.

“You say that, but I can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s something you’re holding back.”

Meredith had never specifically lied about her past—she just hadn’t seen a reason to be particularly forthcoming. It wasn’t uncommon for a more fortunate relation to sponsor young girls for the Season or at least until they found suitable husbands. What purpose would it have served to disclose every detail, every secret? Saying them out loud would only make them all the more real, all the more depressing. And besides, brooding didn’t really suit her.

She was a Ribbon, and Ribbons had it all.

Or at least, that was supposed to be the idea.

“I’ll come with you. After all, you’ll need my help,” Alex said in a sing-song voice. “Especially with the yearly meeting coming up and all. You have quite a lot on your plate between both the inductions and the nominations.”

Meredith’s eyes grew large.
The yearly meeting?

Alex appeared to have read her thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the Ribbons’ yearly meeting?”

She swallowed. “Forgotten is such a harsh word . . .”

Alex stood and placed her hands on her hips. “It only happens once a year, Meredith.”

“More the reason to have forgotten it.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve done nothing to prepare?”

“Fine, I won’t tell you.”

Alex slapped her palm to her forehead. “What could possibly be more important than inductions and nominations?”

Meredith mentally recapped the list.

“Nothing!” Alex scolded. “There’s nothing in this world that is more important to a
Ribbon
—especially to our illustrious leader. That’s you, Meredith.”

“I’ll have it all straightened out in time,” she assured her.

“You better. There’s a line of girls waiting to step into your shoes, and you best make sure you’ve done your part to secure your legacy and stay the leader. You don’t want to end up on the bottom of the pile, do you?”

Meredith’s role was coveted, and helped to elevate her standing amongst the
ton.
Without breeding and a fortune of her own, status was all she had. “Don’t worry, Alexandra. I have everything covered.”

Alex looked leery of the statement, but stood down anyway, retaking her position on the chaise. “Be sure you do,” she warned, popping another grape into her mouth. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into you. You never would have forgotten the Ribbons before.”

Meredith smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Perhaps you can be leader after I leave?”

“You’re hilarious,” she replied flatly. “It’s an elected position and everyone hates me.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Of course they do,” she argued. “I’m too rich, too thin, and too pretty by far. What’s there to like?”

“Your winning personality?”

Alex smiled ruefully. “We both know that’s not true. That’s why you’re the leader and I’m not. You’re just so much fun and everybody loves you. Well, that and the fact your looks aren’t nearly as intimidating as mine. You’re far more relatable.”

Meredith thought about the statement, ignoring that last little dig. The person she’d become since coming to London wasn’t really her. She was who she believed the Ribbons wanted her to be, who London thought she
should
be. She’d hidden her true self away, as if her new lifestyle would somehow defile it.

Now . . . Now she was merely a paler version of herself. And that alone was enough to win her praise. It was all too easy for her.

And for Derek.

His transformation had mirrored that of her own, and she resented him for it. There was a good man underneath that cavalier façade. He’d hidden away the best part of him, allowing his notoriety to define him.

Perhaps that’s what she feared most about herself, too.

Chapter 22

The carriage was packed and ready to depart for Hamptonshire. Both Meredith and Alex managed to fit their trunks, despite Lizzie’s thoughts on it otherwise.

Before she went downstairs, Lizzie handed her the correspondence. As she’d feared, her mother had indeed written. Meredith debated hiding it under her hand mirror, along with the others. But no matter how many of her mother’s letters she hid, her demands would eventually catch up to her. They always did.

Meredith read the letter, trying her best not to take offense at the insults that flew off the page, piercing her heart. The words were meant to hurt, and easily hit their target with the intended effect. Meredith glanced over the letter, tears blurring her vision. It was always about money.

Sitting at her vanity, she cradled her head in her hands, racking her brain for any sort of solution. But as usual, she came up with nothing.

Growing up with a mother like Jane, Meredith always knew where she stood. Jane enjoyed the finer things in life, scrimping pennies so that she could enjoy a new gown or purchase a beautiful vase. Meredith understood, and was happy to do without, if it meant bringing her mother a small amount of joy after having been denied the life she’d been entitled to live. Her step-father’s desertion had cost them dearly, and Jane made no secret of the fact that she’d only married him because she needed a husband to help provide for her and Meredith. And for that reason, Meredith would always be grateful. So what if her mother hadn’t been particularly warm or too busy to pay her much attention? She had made the ultimate sacrifice—settling yet again for a dreary village life. And it had all been for her.

She went to the loose floorboard at the end of the bed and pried it up. She opened the box of letters, sifting through them until she reached what she was looking for. She removed the ring Derek had given her so many years ago and stared at it. The glass in the middle wouldn’t be worth very much, but certainly the gold band would be enough to earn some coin. Hopefully, that would be enough to carry her mother until she settled down. Then she’d have a proper allowance to send home.

She looked into the green glass at the ring’s center, her reflection staring back at her from the dozens of facets carved in its face.

Lovely.

She slipped the ring onto her finger, imagining for a moment that she’d accepted it. How different would life be?

Quickly, she pulled it off and buried it in a pocket of her gown. She’d ask Lizzie to see how much she could get for it and send the money on to her mother. Then all she’d have to do was pray that the profit would be enough to navigate her mother through the next crisis or two. At least until she had things figured out.

She felt a now-familiar twinge in her gut. No, she didn’t want to part with the ring, but she knew by holding onto it, she’d accomplish nothing. The ring would serve her mother in the form of real money, far better than as an unused piece of jewelry benefitting no one . . . not even her. Preserving a memory wasn’t nearly as important as her mother’s health.

Besides, the feelings represented by that token were no more. Derek Weston no longer held such romantic notions where she was involved. And what use did she have clinging to the past when she needed to be focused, more than ever, on her future?

“Are you ready?” her aunt asked from the doorway.

Meredith quickly positioned herself in front of the hole in the floor. “Almost.”

“They’re waiting for you.”

Meredith nodded.

“What are you doing on the floor?”

She quickly racked her brain for a believable excuse. “I dropped something.”

Cynthia nodded. “Well, pick it up and be quick about it.”

Meredith looked out the carriage window, taking in the village of Hamptonshire and the shops that lined its streets. She smiled as they passed a quaint pub, The Bull and Thyme. The bustling early evening activity was reminiscent of the pub back in Middlebury. It felt good to be out in the country.

“I hate the country,” Alex scowled, holding her handkerchief to her nose. “It smells of death!”

Meredith snickered. “That’s manure. Farmers use it to feed their crops.”

“Even worse.” Alex brought her hand to her forehead and faded against the back of the seat.

“You act as if you’ve never left London.”

“I haven’t.”

Meredith looked at her friend, surprised by the admission. “You mean to tell me that you’ve never ventured outside of Town?”

Alex sat up. “Well, we do have a country estate, but it’s just outside of London. Other than that, I’ve never really seen much purpose in travelling.”

“But both your parents are from Scotland, how is it you’ve never visited?”

“I was five when we left, so I barely remember my life before coming to England. Papa visits occasionally, but he’s never pushed the issue of me coming with him. Mama prefers the creature comforts of the city and rarely goes back.”

“But it’s your home.”

Alex shook her head. “Not really.”

Meredith had difficulty understanding her attitude, given that she’d always held Middlebury in such high regard. “Surely you feel some sort of connection to it? It was your birthplace, after all.”

“Some people are from the school of thought that I should somehow feel drawn to my homeland—that Scotland is in my blood. But I’ve never really thought that way. I believe it’s the people that make the home, not the geography.”

Meredith pondered the statement as their carriage pulled in front of the Marshall’s home. She’d never really thought about it that way before, always assuming that her longing for Middlebury had been born from some innate sense of attachment to the place she’d been raised. But what if that wasn’t the case?

She cast the question aside, not wanting to worry. After all, she had a potential fiancé to lure and didn’t have time to bother with such depressing thoughts.