Going Rogue by Jessica Jefferson Page A

spotting Ophelia. “Miss Marshall,” she greeted with considerably less enthusiasm.
    Ophelia didn’t appear to notice and approached the statuesque blonde. “Lady Alexandra, thank you so much for inviting me.”
    Alex glared at Meredith, arching an elegantly sculpted eyebrow. “Of course.”
    “And you must call me Ophelia.”
    “Ophelia,” she repeated through gritted teeth.
    The ladies entered the shop, Alex expertly weaving her way to Meredith’s side. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing her,” she hissed.
    “I didn’t think you’d mind,” Meredith lied. Alex was often distrusting of newcomers . . . especially pretty ones.
    “You knew I’d mind, which is exactly why you didn’t tell me you were bringing her.”
    Meredith balked at the accusation. “Would I ever be so devious?”
    “There’s no question,” Alex returned without so much as a moment’s hesitation.
    “She needs the exposure.”
    “I don’t believe for a second you’d be so selfless in your endeavors. You need the exposure with her .”
    “Let’s not quibble about the particulars—what’s done is done. And I expect you to behave.”
    “I’m always on my best behavior.”
    Meredith took a deep breath. “That’s what worries me. Do me a favor and try to do a bit better than that.”
    The designer’s assistants appeared, whisking them away to a private room at the back of the store where a trolley of cakes and champagne awaited.
    “I’ve come here a half-dozen times with my mother, yet I’ve never been in this room before.” Ophelia looked around at the panels of puce fabric that clung to the walls, reaching out to touch the velvet upholstery of one of the coordinating settees at the center of the room. “It’s just so . . . puce,” she observed, as if examining a new species of insect.
    “Don’t you just love the décor!” Alex exclaimed, helping herself to a glass of champagne, while passing another to Meredith.
    Meredith snickered, gladly accepting the refreshment. “I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it does look a bit like someone cast up their accounts.”
    Ophelia smiled. “I didn’t even know this shop had a private showing room.”
    “That’s the idea,” Alex returned in an icy tone.
    Ophelia must have felt the chill and quickly removed herself, citing having left something in the coach.
    “What is this all about?” Alex asked once they were alone.
    Meredith reclined back on her settee. “What do you mean?”
    “All of this.” She waved her hand through the air. “Including that little performance the other night. Not the one on stage, but the one in your box where you played the damsel in distress. And just between you and me—your acting’s really gone downhill. I didn’t find your fainting episode to be the least bit believable.” Alex crossed her arms over her chest.
    “I honestly don’t know what happened. I was feeling lightheaded, and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor.”
    She knew exactly what had happened, but couldn’t very well tell Alex, or any of the Ribbons , for that matter. “Perhaps I hadn’t had enough to eat that day?” she fibbed.
    Alex pursed her lips together. “I’m sure that wasn’t the case. You look like you’ve been eating just fine to me.”
    Meredith rolled her eyes. “You thought I did it for attention?”
    “I assumed as much. After all, Mr. Marshall responded quite promptly. I just figured that was your plan all along. Isn’t he the reason you’re toting around your newest accessory?”
    “It was most definitely not planned.” She rubbed the still tender knot at the back of her head. “Actually, he was an unexpected benefit. I introduced Ophelia for an entirely different reason altogether.”
    “And what would that be?”
    Meredith shrugged. “Does it really matter? Ophelia’s beautiful, she’s from a good family, and she’s quite possibly the sweetest girl either one of us have ever met.”
    “Exactly. She’s not