Going Rogue (4 page)

This kiss was the requiem for what was to become his past.

When he felt her knees start to buckle, he knew it was time. He pulled away. His gaze locked briefly with hers. Her eyes were heavy with desire and her lips were red and swollen from the pleasurable assault.

He said nothing. Instead, he walked straight for the door—ready to leave the place where his vision for the future had been shattered into thousands of irreparable shards.

And he’d be damned before he tried to pick them up.

Chapter 4

Derek wandered aimlessly through London, reflecting on all that had transpired. After several hours, he found himself standing on the docks. He’d never ventured so far from home before. Used to nothing but farmland as far as the eye could see, the sight of such a vast body of water stirred something inside him. He stared at the horizon, focusing on where the sun dipped into the sea, wondering what to do next. It was getting late and he needed to go somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out where.

He was lost.

She was all he’d ever known, this girl who’d so easily dismissed him. He couldn’t very well return to Middlebury, knowing there’d be reminders of her everywhere. And he sure as hell wasn’t staying in London, wallowing in the loss of Meredith Castle.

It was then he made his decision.

Derek took the stack of well-read letters—so painstakingly cared for over the years—and tossed them into the water. He watched as the wind carried them off, scattering them across the sea. He didn’t move until the very last piece of foolscap drifted out of sight.

Satisfied the remnants of his past were thoroughly destroyed, he walked back down the pier, noticing a faded sign swinging above him on an outstretched arm from one of the buildings that lined the walkway. He stopped to read it.

The King’s Ransom Transports was looking for men.

He rubbed his chin, wild thoughts racing through his mind—a new sense of excitement coursing through his blood. A shipping company? He could think of no better way to escape than a life of travel, drifting from port to port. He’d never been on a ship before and he could barely swim. But suddenly, reason and logic were beyond him as he entered the business office.

An older man greeted him, his face worn, wearing better quality clothing than anything Derek had ever owned. “Can I help you?” he asked, stepping out from behind a desk.

“I’m here to inquire about a position,” he announced. “Are you still hiring?”

The man didn’t attempt to mask the fact that he was sizing him up before he answered. “We are indeed,” he said, obviously satisfied with what he saw. “Most of our business has been out of America lately. There’s been quite the demand for our services with the war and all.”

“America,” Derek repeated. He couldn’t imagine a more ideal location in which to start his new life.

“Yes, America,” the man said again. “We have one more position to fill. But I’ll warn you now—we’re not your typical shipping company.”

Derek took a deep breath. It didn’t matter.
Nothing
mattered anymore.

“When do we sail?”

Meredith ran to her room, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. She slammed the door closed, then crumpled to the floor, clutching the ring within her fist. She opened her hand and admired the piece of green cut glass at its center, then slipped it on her finger. Light reflected off the gold, two crests engraved on either side, a brief glimpse into the future she might have had with the man who loved her.

The man
she
loved.

No reason to hold back any longer, the tears flowed freely now. She was safe inside her room, hidden away from the judgment of her aunt, of the Ribbons.

Derek’s familiar blue eyes evoked a flood of memories that had all but washed away her last semblance of reason. It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed not to cling to him, to beg him never to leave.

Turning him away had been the hardest thing she’d ever done—but something she knew was necessary. That day on the stairs, he’d not only stolen a kiss, but her entire heart. She would have stayed with him forever if he’d asked. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d insisted she go to London, just like her mother had. She hadn’t wanted to leave either one of them, but deep inside she knew it was the only way. Her own father had died during her infancy and her mother’s second husband just up and disappeared one day, leaving behind nothing but a stack of debts and a heap of bad memories. There would be no one else to come to their rescue.

She’d done what was best for her family, even if that meant giving up her past for the hope of creating a future for her and her mother. She’d severed her friendship from Derek just like Aunt Cynthia had encouraged her to do; cleanly and completely in order to spare herself any more pain.

A knock at the door startled her. She quickly stood, wiped at her face, then hid her hands behind her back. “Come in,” she announced.

Cynthia strode into the room. “Darling, I saw him leave. Are you all right?” Her aunt opened her arms wide in invitation.

Meredith took a step back, avoiding the embrace. “Couldn’t be better.”

Cynthia set her hands atop her shoulders. “You did the right thing—I’m proud of you.”

For having done the right thing, Meredith was quite certain she’d never felt worse.

“Have you been crying?” It was more of an accusation than a question. “You’re not crying about
that boy
are you?”

She shook her head. “It’s just a bit of homesickness, that’s all. Sometimes I miss my life there,” she mused.
With Derek
. “Maybe if I could go home, just for a few days . . . to see my mother?”

Cynthia cupped her cheek. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. You’re just now hitting your stride with the Ribbons and you’re close to becoming one of the most desired women in all of London. Think of all the suitors—gentlemen who could easily take care of you, your mother, and me. With my guidance and your beauty, you’ll do better than any woman in this family ever has.”

“Even better than Aunt Lydia?”

Cynthia dropped her hand. “You’re far better than Lydia ever was. She squandered every opportunity and betrayed her family, something I know
you’ll
never do.”

Meredith didn’t need her to elaborate. She already knew the story well, having heard it countless times before.

“I should be getting back downstairs,” Meredith said, forcing a smile for her aunt’s benefit.

“Of course.” Cynthia placed a light kiss on both her cheeks. “Do try and cheer up. Perhaps later I can take you shopping? That always makes me feel better.”

“I’d like that,” she lied, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry some more.

“Wonderful! I’ll start getting ready.” Cynthia left her room, a blur of teased hair and taffeta, the overpowering scent of rosewater wafting behind her.

Meredith waited until she could no longer hear her aunt’s footsteps to remove the ring, tucking it safely inside her pocket, keeping it there until she could hide it properly, under the loose floorboard at the end of her bed.

The same place she kept all of Derek’s letters.

Chapter 5

London, 1817, Five years later . . .

Sunlight managed to find its way into Meredith’s room through the small opening between the heavy curtains. Determined to block out the light completely, she pulled the covers over her head.

“Good day, Miss Castle,” the chipper voice of her lady’s maid rang out.

“Come back later, Lizzie,” Meredith muttered.

“I can’t do that—your room is filthy. Besides, Lady Browning would like you to join her on the veranda as soon as you can make yourself ready.”

She listened as Lizzie flitted about. “The room can wait,” she said, peeking out from the blankets. “And you can tell Lady Browning that I’m sleeping. I’ll join her at
my
earliest convenience.” She hid again, nestled deep within the confines of her comfortable bed.

“But the Lady insists . . .”

There was no use arguing with the girl—her loyalty first and foremost with her employer. “Fine. But I’ll need a warm bath and a pot of chocolate before I can even consider leaving my room.”

“But Lady Browning—”

Meredith hit the mattress with her fist. “Lady Browning will just have to wait until I’ve had my pot of chocolate, now won’t she?”

“Won’t I what?” Aunt Cynthia appeared, her presence sending the maid scurrying.

Meredith quickly shot up. “I was just telling Lizzie that I’d prefer to visit with you after I’ve freshened up a bit.”

Cynthia set her hands on her hips. “I would have preferred that, too, but I’ve already wasted half my day waiting for you to make an appearance.”

Meredith yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “My night lasted a bit longer than I expected.”

“Don’t they always?” Cynthia drawled, making her way toward the vanity at the far end of the room.

“Not always,” she defended, noting the censure in her aunt’s voice.

Cynthia sat on the bench in front of the vanity and adjusted one of the artfully placed feathers within her elaborate hair arrangement. “You’ve been out late nearly every night this week.”

“Your bath is ready, Miss,” Lizzie announced.

“What about my chocolate?” Meredith pouted.

Her aunt turned from the mirror, rebuking her with a glance. “Just get in the bath and never mind the chocolate.”

Meredith tossed her blankets aside and quickly shed her night clothes. She padded over to the tub and submerged herself, sighing as the warm water enveloped her.

“Comfortable?” Cynthia asked.

“Very,” she answered. The water instantly soothed the sore muscles she’d earned from all the dancing she’d enjoyed the night before.

Cynthia signaled the maid. “Leave us, Lizzie. I’ll assist Miss Castle if she should need anything.”

The maid nodded, backing her way out of the room.

“But my hair?” Meredith whined. “Lizzie always washes it for me.”

“Perhaps you can wash your own hair today?”

Meredith sunk further into the water. “I suppose it can wait until tomorrow. I’m too tired anyway.”

Her aunt crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sure you are, after the night you had.”

“How would you know?”

“Because your name was splashed all over the gossip rags this morning.”

“Better to be talked about than not thought of at all,” she sang.

Cynthia shook her head. “Notoriety is far different from being
of note.
You simply can’t keep gallivanting around London as if it were your own personal stage.”

“I had a chaperone.”

“Some chaperone.” Her aunt snorted. “Remind me to fire Mrs. Nelson. It’s become apparent she can’t keep you under control.”

“It’s not as if I did anything wrong. Those silly writers for the broadsheets have nothing else to do but spread stories about me.”

“Flirting shamelessly? Dancing with the same man multiple times? Disappearing on balconies for extended periods? That bit about the lavender gown with a ridiculously low neckline in which you practically exposed yourself to all of Vauxhall? Are you telling me these are
all
lies?”

“Some of it,” Meredith answered. “The part about my gown is grossly inaccurate. It was violet, not lavender.”

Cynthia shook her head. “We must do something to repair your reputation.”

Meredith rubbed her head, the ache undoubtedly from all the champagne she’d enjoyed, which inevitably, had led to all the dancing. “There’s not been any scandal.”

“None that I haven’t been able to get you out of.” Cynthia held out a towel.

“You act as if I’m ruined.”

“Not yet, but you’re certainly on the brink. I’m starting to think that perhaps your association with the Ribbons has done far more damage to your reputation than good.”

Meredith stepped out of the tub, one heavy leg at a time, using the towel to cover herself. “Need I remind you that you’re the one who encouraged me to make the best of my time here in London? You insisted that I make friends, so I did. You wanted me to
earn my ribbon
, so I did.” She’d done far better than that. She’d worked hard to assume leadership of the group and helped restore their reputation to its former glory.

Cynthia sat back down on the tufted bench in front of the vanity. “That was quite a while ago. Five years ago you were an
original
and able to get away with far more than your current position allows. You’re three and twenty now. Although you may all wear the same colored ribbons, you’re still very different from them. This is the last year you’re eligible for membership. Once lost, you’ll no longer have their good names to elevate your own standing. Do I make myself clear?”

Meredith flinched; the truth hit her like a smack to the face.

She’d taken her aunt’s advice and allowed herself to remain unmarried as she built up her reputation. Cynthia provided her with a hefty allowance, which she quietly sent on to her mother. As long as she could keep her mother comfortable, there wasn’t any need to settle for the first man with a proposal. Without that dire sense of urgency steering her otherwise, she’d decided to make the most of her time in London. Two Seasons had turned to three, three had become four, and so on. Five Seasons later, her popularity was waning. Many of the other Ribbons had already secured husbands. Sure, she was still liked well enough, but she’d lost the novelty which had led to her original success. There were younger, prettier girls coming up on her heels. And if she didn’t do something quickly, she’d lose her footing entirely.

“Now that the Ribbons are back on their feet, I thought I’d consider marrying again. After all, my funds are dwindling and I won’t be able to keep up with expenses without replenishing the accounts.” Cynthia’s taste in men had a tendency to lean toward the very rich and the very old. A lifestyle like hers was difficult to maintain with inheritance alone.

“Then I shall find a husband tomorrow,” Meredith proclaimed.