Going Rogue by Jessica Jefferson Read Free Book Online Page A

remarked nonchalantly, pushing the giddiness aside.
    “ Older brother. He comes to London every now and again. Since it’s my debut, mother insisted he stay with us through the spring so I can have an escort.”
    “Would I recognize his name . . . or title?”
    “He’s not come into his majority yet. Mr. Garrett Marshall—do you know him?”
    “Vaguely.” She indeed knew of him, but their circles rarely intersected. He was a bit tamer than the rakes she usually associated with.
    “He’s not settled down yet, much to Mama’s dismay.”
    A respectable, available man from a good family who’d one day inherit the title of Viscount? If she were a man, she’d walk straight into a gambling hell and put everything she had on black. This was indeed her lucky day. “Enough about him, Ophelia—this is about you. You’re a beautiful young lady and deserve far more credit than you give yourself. Now, have you corresponded with the Earl since your first meeting?”
    Ophelia shook her head. “It’s only been a few weeks. But, he did tell me that he was expanding his company to include the transport of passengers and was going to be working from his London office until everything is in place.”
    Not good. “Well, until you meet your mongrel-pirate again, you and I shall be inseparable. I promise within a matter of weeks, you’ll feel as if you’ve lived here your entire life.”
    “You could come with me to the opera this week,” Ophelia suggested. “We have a box and I’d love it if you’d be my guest. My brother will be there and perhaps even the Earl. He did mention having a particular fondness for music.” She exhaled, as if blowing away all her worries. “Why are you doing all this for me?”
    Meredith felt a pang of guilt when Ophelia’s eyes met hers. It was only supposed to be a friendship of convenience, but she felt a deeper connection than she thought she would. Still, she needed to remember that this perfect debutante, without so much as a blemish on her name, would be her own redemption. And if she played her cards right, perhaps there’d be a marriage proposal in it as well.
    “Because that’s what friends are for,” Meredith replied.

 
    Chapter 8
    Lord and Lady Marshall’s carriage was scheduled to arrive promptly at nine o’ clock to take Meredith to King’s Theatre. She took one final glance in the vanity mirror, smoothing a wisp of flyaway hair. Tonight she’d worked doubly hard to look her best. She was wearing one of her more demure gowns—a Pomona green silk with modest long sleeves, but with a deep enough bodice to keep it interesting. She’d chosen to leave a trail of hair falling down her back in a cascade of loose curls that had taken her maid all day to set. And her usual primrose-colored ribbon was tied around her left wrist.
    There was only ever one opportunity to meet someone for the first time and she refused to squander it with a lackluster appearance. Tonight wasn’t just another frivolous night spent at the opera—it was a strategic move on the proverbial chessboard that had become her life. She’d been too careless before, lost too many of her pieces, and now she’d do whatever she could to take a king and save herself. She was three and twenty, there wasn’t much time left.
    A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the carriage. She grabbed her reticule off the vanity top, uncovering the note she’d received earlier.
    It was from her mother, another plea for more money and a disparaging comment about giving birth to such an ungrateful daughter. Guilt was her weapon of choice, and she wielded it with vicious precision.
    Up until recently, the money she sent had been enough to placate her. But since her last birthday, the letters had increased both in frequency and insult. Her mother knew that upon her next birthday, she’d lose her membership and was all too aware of just what that entailed. No ribbon meant her matrimonial prospects diminished