Going Rogue (3 page)

Before he had a chance to knock, the butler answered. “Deliveries are made around back.” The tall, elder man started to close the door, but Derek stopped it with his foot.

“I’m not making a delivery. I’m here to see Miss Castle.”

The butler cleared his throat before proceeding. “If you’d be so kind as to leave your card, I’ll see that Miss Castle gets it.”

“I’m sure you will.” Derek forced his way into the foyer. “I don’t have any cards. But I’m sure if you’d announce me, Miss Castle will—”

“I’m sorry, but Miss Castle is entertaining,” the butler interrupted.

Just then, Derek heard the lilting song of her laughter. Unable to stop himself, he followed the sound, heading down a hallway, opening every closed door.

Finally, he came upon a woman reading in one of the rooms. Before he could speak, she looked up from her book. “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Miss Castle.”

Two footmen arrived, flanking him, ready to escort him outside.

“Please . . .” the woman held up her hand. “Leave me with Mr. Weston for a few moments.”

The men looked warily at each other, but complied. Once they were alone again, the woman gestured at an empty chair across from her. “Have a seat, Mr. Weston. I’ve been expecting you.”

Derek walked deeper inside. “It appears that I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here. You seem to know exactly who I am though I’m quite certain we’ve never met.”

The woman grinned. It was a lovely sort of smile that could melt any man into compliance. It was then he figured out her identity. “You must be Lady Browning.” He bowed to the best of his ability, rarely having done so before. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Meredith frequently wrote about the beautiful aunt who both intimidated and fascinated her, relaying stories of her frequent admirers and lavish parties.

“Likewise,” she returned. “Would you care for some refreshments? You look as if you’ve had a particularly rough time of getting here.”

Derek self-consciously adjusted the collar of his still-damp great coat, soaked from his travel atop the coach. “No, thank you. But I’m confused. May I ask—just how did you know I was coming?”

“The letters. You’ve been corresponding regularly with my niece for quite a while. You two were obviously close and I’ve always known it would only be a matter of time before you’d want to see her again.”

He’d written her every week without fail. And even though the frequency of the letters she’d written him had dwindled, he’d continued to write faithfully. He hadn’t anticipated how much he’d miss her, or how hard it would be to be apart from her. The letters were all he had.

He should have questioned the cryptic implication of Lady Browning’s statement, but was distracted by the sound of a pianoforte coming from a nearby room. After years of listening to Meredith play, he instantly recognized the style as hers.

She nodded toward the door. “Meredith is in the music room next door. I suppose she’s been expecting you as well.”

It wasn’t the response he expected. Covered in filth, smelling little better than a sewer, the lady of the house had just given him an open invitation to visit her niece. Desperate to see her, he didn’t hesitate. He left, quickly finding the music room. Once at the doorway, he paused, overcome by the vision before him.

This beautiful creature couldn’t possibly be his Meredith?

She’d transformed from a pretty girl into an exceptionally lovely woman. Her once soft round face had thinned out, prominently displaying her fine cheekbones and wide-set eyes. Her blond hair, usually pulled back in a simple fashion with a ribbon, was piled elegantly upon her head.

Then he noticed the rest of the room. To his disappointment, she wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by a half-dozen ladies, all happily chatting and enjoying themselves as she played.

And then, as if sensing his presence, she looked up. She suddenly stopped playing, her eyes growing wide with recognition.

“Hello, Meredith,” he said first.

She stood and his breath caught at the sight of her gown clinging to her lithe form.

Spectacular.

“Is that your new groomsman? Whatever is he doing in here?” A pretty blonde asked, feminine laughter erupting.

Meredith faced her guests. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a most pressing matter to take care of.”

“Will you be returning soon?” another called out.

Meredith flashed a dazzling smile. “
Un moment, s’il vous plait
,” she replied effortlessly.

She’d learned French, he thought proudly.

She walked past him, catching him by the elbow and all but dragging him into the corridor.

“Derek, what are you doing here?” she whispered once they were alone.

Overcome by the magnitude of their reunion, he stood silent. He’d dreamt of this moment for so long that he could hardly believe it was really her standing in front of him. He fought the urge to greet her properly—to embrace her, to tell her just how much he’d missed her. “This is all just as you described it,” he remarked, uncertain of what else to say.

“I tried my best to do it justice.”

He smiled. She’d described her new residence in great detail, but
nothing
could have prepared him for this level of grandeur. “You sounded lovely in there. What were you playing?”

“Mozart.”

He thought for a moment. “Weren’t you always partial to that other fellow?”

“You mean another composer? There’s so many—Handel? Bach? Beethoven?”

“Beethoven! Yes, that’s the one. I remember how passionately you spoke of the intensity of his music. You loved playing his pieces.”

“I grew tired of Beethoven.” She leaned against the wall. “I hope you didn’t travel all this way to discuss music?”

The chill in her tone caught him completely off guard. This wasn’t the warm welcome he’d expected. “I assure you, I didn’t make the trip just to exchange polite conversation.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Then
why
did you come here? I assume you have a good reason.”

The very best
, he thought. Though he’d always felt something more than friendship toward Meredith, he’d chosen not to formally pursue her. The eldest son of a modest land-owner, he had very few prospects of his own. His father would ramble drunkenly about their rich relation in Scotland, but tall tales of fortune and titles did little to advance his own opportunities.

But then a miracle had happened. His father had somehow managed to find enough money to purchase him a commission in the Royal Army. Now he’d be regarded as a gentleman, and that meant finally having something worthy to offer Meredith in exchange for her hand.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” he asked, after a servant scurried by. “Somewhere a bit more private, perhaps?”

Meredith shook her head. “I can’t right now—I’m entertaining.”

Derek stepped back, her words a punch to his gut. “
Entertaining
?”

She jutted her chin, just as she had as a child. “I can’t very well make my friends wait. You have no idea how important these ladies are.”

He tried to excuse her lack of manners, but for the life of him, couldn’t. “I’ve come all this way. Surely, your
important
guests will excuse your absence long enough so that I may have a few moments alone with you?”

She cast her gaze down at the floor. “You should have sent word, you should have written . . .”

“Well, I do apologize for the inconvenience. I suppose in all my haste I didn’t anticipate just how inflexible your schedule would be.”

Meredith looked back up, anger flashing behind her bright green eyes. “Well, you should have. Life here isn’t like it is in Middlebury. I have numerous appointments and obligations. I simply don’t have the time for unexpected callers.”

He fisted his hands at his sides. “I’m not just another caller, Mere. I’m your friend. Your very oldest and very
best
friend. Remember?”

“You can’t call me that anymore—it isn’t proper.”

His jaw fell, along with his heart. “
Isn’t proper
? We used to swim in my parents’ pond without so much as a stitch covering either one of us. Surely, we’ve gotten past this whole business of propriety?”

“Mr. Weston!” She shushed him. “You mustn’t say such things—not here, not
ever
again. Those times are behind me now.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. This was utter madness! He grabbed her hands, briefly noticing the yellow ribbon she wore around her left wrist. “Don’t you dare call me Mr. Weston—I’m Derek. And those times are not behind you. In fact, your past, your future, is right here in front of you
. I’m
right here in front of you
.
”

She tore her hands free, as if it pained her to touch him.

He fished in his pocket and pulled out the ring, a family heirloom. He doubted the large, green center stone was real, but it didn’t matter. It served as a symbol, nothing more. One day, he’d buy her a real jewel, an emerald the same color as her eyes—something she could be proud of. “I know I should have written, but what I have to ask couldn’t wait for the post.”

“What’s that?” She clutched her chest, her gaze narrowing in on the token he held out for her.

He shrugged. “It’s far less than you deserve, but it’s all I can give you right now. But that’s going to change soon, I promise. I’m buying a commission.”

“A commission?” she repeated, her voice barely registering above a whisper.

“I’ve always loved you, Mere, but I’ve never had the means to provide for you. Now, with this commission, I can give you the kind of life you deserve. I wanted to ask you first, then approach your mother. We can return to Middlebury together—”

“Middlebury?” She rubbed her forehead. “But you were the one who encouraged me to leave. You told me that I deserved more than being a village wife. And now that I’ve created a brand new life for myself here, you’d have me return?”

“But you never wanted to leave,” he explained, the distance between them growing—both physically and in every other sense possible. “Don’t you remember that day on the stairs? You begged me to help you find a way to stay.”

“You’re right,” she said defiantly. “I would have done anything to stay in Middlebury . . . with you. But you convinced me there was no better way to help my mother than by leaving with my aunt.
You
encouraged me to come here.”

“Of course I encouraged you to go. You deserved a chance at a proper education, to learn to play music from a real master. And I thought you might even meet someone who could provide for you and your mother. But now there’s no need. With this commission, I’ll earn a decent wage and I can finally support you in the manner you deserve. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You couldn’t love me.” Meredith’s shoulders fell. “You haven’t seen me for over a year—too much has changed. It’s too late.”

“A year means nothing when I’ve known you for a lifetime,” he argued.

“A year
is
a lifetime.” She shook her head. “I’m not the person I used to be.”

“Of course you are. After you come home—”

“Middlebury is no longer my home and I can’t go back. There’s
nothing
for me there.”

“Except me?” He’d meant it as a bold declaration of his intentions. But his confidence was wavering and he knew the words were as much a question as they were anything else.

“Don’t you see—I can’t marry you.” Her words cut like a knife. “I’ve a real chance here. Aunt Cynthia thinks I can be a duchess. An actual duchess! Can you imagine? Think of all I can do for my mother.”

“I had no idea you held such lofty aspirations,” he said quietly, the ring tucked tightly within his fist.

She looked down. “You said it yourself once—I deserve more than what life in the village has to offer me. How can I settle for being the wife of an officer when I have a real chance at a title?”

He dropped the ring on the floor, the weight of it finally too much to bear. “Somewhere along the way, you seem to have forgotten what’s truly important, Mere.”

“And what’s that?”

“Love, friendship, loyalty . . .”

She shook her head. “My mother followed love and look where that got her. She has nothing now but a crumbling house and stacks of bills. It takes far more than love to make a life—it takes a fortune.”

And then he knew. This shell of a woman was certainly not
his
Meredith.
His Meredith
would never be so callous, so ruthless. The woman standing in front of him had her eyes, hair, and smile—but not her spirit.

The girl he loved was nowhere to be found.

Derek cleared his throat. “You’ve changed.”

She looked at him. “We’re just too different now. I had hoped that it would be easy, that you’d just forget about me over time. Why do you think I stopped writing all those months ago?”

It was the final blow to their friendship. She hadn’t been as preoccupied with her lessons as he’d thought. He knew the truth now—perhaps he’d known it all along. She hadn’t been too busy to write, she’d been too busy
for him
. She’d been trying to end their friendship amicably by simply ignoring the fact it had ever existed.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he said quietly.

“Probably not.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, just as she had when she was younger. His heart ached for the memory.

He needed to leave, to be as far from this place as he could get. But there was one thing he couldn’t leave without.

Taking her by the arms, he pulled her close, and kissed her fiercely.

She didn’t resist.

She returned his kiss with just as much emotion, her arms snaking their way up his chest. Their last kiss hadn’t lasted but a second, both of them so inexperienced. But he’d spent nights dreaming about it, imagining all he’d do differently given the opportunity again.

Now, she kissed him with a skill that he didn’t bother to question. He knew someone else had taught her, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to remember him, remember this moment. He kissed her with every intention of scarring a memory into her consciousness so that after this, every kiss she’d ever receive would pale in comparison to his. He poured every ounce of himself into it—every feeling he’d ever hidden, all the love he’d ever felt for her. His tongue plunged deeper, exploring the secret places inside her mouth.