Free Going Rogue by Jessica Jefferson

to your father?”
    “It should have . . . but he’d already passed on by then.”
    Meredith felt a sudden pain in the pit of her stomach. Her mother hadn’t mentioned it in any of her letters. “I’m so sorry. Nobody told me . . .”
    “Well, I don’t suppose your mother would have thought to bother you with such inconsequential news from Middlebury. She wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt your important life here.”
    She flinched at the harsh words. She would never be so heartless, and hated him for thinking she could. “Well, that explains how you managed to buy yourself a shipping company.”
    He stiffened. “I didn’t buy my success—I earned it. And it’s not just shipping, it’s highly specialized work. We’re responsible for discreet cargo, as well as the interception of ships that are known to be harboring stolen goods . . . for a nominal fee, of course.”
    “You’re a pirate.”
    “I’m not a pirate. We refer to it as transfer and procurement, and I assure you the two couldn’t be any more different.”
    “How so?”
    He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I do is legal, where piracy is not.”
    “Very different, I see. And your services are in such high demand that it requires you opening an office in Town ? Why not open an office in Scotland?” Hundreds of miles away from here .
    “Business is better in London—more clients. Not to mention the wide variety of marital options.”
    Derek glimpsed over his shoulder at Ophelia.
    “Am I to assume that you regard Miss Marshall as one of those options?”
    He turned back. “Perhaps. Would it matter if she was?”
    Meredith’s nostrils flared. “No. It’s just . . . she doesn’t strike me as your type, that’s all.”
    He laughed. “My type? Aren’t lovely girls like her every man’s type?”
    They both looked back at Miss Marshall, this time she noticed and tentatively waved.
    “Besides, Miss Castle ,” he enunciated her name. “You’re not in a position to presume anything about the types of women I find desirable. You don’t even know me.”
    No , she thought contritely, I don’t .
    Lord Brayan MacCalistair leaned toward Derek. “You best turn yer attention back to the stage. The way yer carrying on with Miss Castle will have tongues wagging about ye two.”
    Derek straightened in his seat. “There’s nothing for them to wag about. I was simply relaying to Miss Castle the extent of my visit here, nothing more.”
    “I wouldn’t fault ye even if you were trying to get to know her better. She’s a bonnie lass, that one.”
    Derek’s jaw tensed. “Oh, you think she’s pretty?” He remarked, feigning disinterest.
    Brayan shook his head. “Ye need spectacles—she’s lovely. And I think she may have taken a liking to ye.”
    “You couldn’t be more wrong.” He smirked. “Miss Castle most definitely does not like me.”
    He recalled the painful day he’d left Lady Browning’s townhome. It wasn’t long after that his father passed, solidifying his new outlook on life. Losing everything certainly had a way of putting the world into perspective.
    Strong, whip-smart, and good with a pistol, life at sea suited him and his prospects eventually improved. Good for little else but muscle on a ship, the company utilized his talents in other ways. Under his direction, King’s Ransom Transfers exceeded all expectations. By the time word of his estranged grandfather’s passing had reached him, he’d achieved an enviable level of notoriety. That’s when he’d met Brayan, his late father’s nephew.
    He’d reached a level of success he’d never imagined possible . . . and he dreamt of the day he’d meet up with Meredith Castle again. What better vengeance than accomplishing everything she’d tossed him aside for?
    Thunderous clapping from the audience roused him from his bitter thoughts. The curtain was drawn—the performance had ended.
    Derek stood and bid the group goodbye, purposefully avoiding Meredith.