Free Going Rogue by Jessica Jefferson Page A

He and Brayan returned to their carriage and started the journey back to the rented townhome they’d been sharing. Contrary to Brayan’s thoughts on it otherwise, he had no intention of staying any longer than he had to—London was just another stopover in a life he’d devoted to travel. He simply wasn’t the sort of man who put down roots.
    “What happened between ye two?” Brayan asked once they’d been on the road for a few minutes.
    Derek’s brow furrowed. “Who?”
    “Miss Castle.”
    He stared out the window, wanting nothing more than to leave the subject alone. “Nothing.”
    “I don’t believe ye, it had to be something. Ye’ve been shooting daggers at her for most of the evening.”
    “You’re imagining things, Brayan.”
    His cousin grinned from ear to ear. “Am I?”
    Derek glared. Brayan had been the first to welcome him into the family, and since then, the two had become inseparable. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hit him.
    He was too perceptive—making it nearly impossible to lie. “There was something,” Derek confessed. “But believe me, it’s over now.”
    “For how long?”
    He took a deep breath. He’d spent years trying to forget, the memories still unwelcome. Every so often he’d dream of her—her green eyes, her blond hair. The way she’d clung to him when they’d kissed that last time, as if she were unable to get close enough. “A few years.”
    “ Years ?” Brayan repeated, surprise registering on his face. “What happened?”
    “London happened.” Derek could tell by Brayan’s expression that as much as he didn’t want to, he’d need to elaborate. “We were friends growing up. I loved her with every ounce of my being. And she . . . she tolerated me. Her mother sent her away to live with her great aunt—here, near Mayfair. And I let her go.”
    “You let her go?”
    “I needed something to make me worthy, something to be deserving of her before I asked for her hand. But I was miserable. My father knew it and the good man did all he could to remedy the situation. He mysteriously found enough money to purchase a commission for me. I never questioned where he found the funds, but I was grateful. I thought that would be enough for her to accept me.
    “And it wasn’t?”
    He sighed. “She’d changed. There must be something in the air here that turns sweet girls into self-indulgent henwits.”
    “So the great Lord Sutherland, formerly of Mr. Weston fame, found himself refused by a common girl?”
    Derek faked a bow. “In spectacular fashion.”
    Brayan laughed. “And how many times have ye been refused since then?”
    “Not once.” He returned the smile, though it took a great deal more effort than he’d expected. “It’s not actually a fair comparison. I’ve never really proposed marriage to anyone else—propositioned maybe, but not proposed.”
    “I bet she regrets her choice.”
    “I should hope so.” Derek was pleased with the evening’s turn of events. He hadn’t planned on seeing her so soon, but was pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t just perturbed by his presence. She’d been livid.
    “I suppose ye can thank her now.”
    Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “Thank her ? Why ever would I do something like that?”
    Brayan shrugged. “Well, if it weren’t for her, ye might not have done as well for yerself as ye have.”
    He smiled. “You have a heart of gold, cousin. Guard it well. London is no place for a man like you.”
    “It’s quite the coincidence that she’s friends with Miss Marshall.” Brayan’s statement was little better than a thinly veiled accusation.
    Derek couldn’t fault him for believing his interest in Miss Marshall had been calculated, when in truth it was simply a happy coincidence. “I met Miss Marshall in Brussels. She never mentioned her friendship with Miss Castle. But it does make for a most interesting dynamic, don’t you think?”
    Brayan leaned back onto the cushions. “I know this is partly my