Nothing But Scandal (16 page)

But first, she owed him an explanation. “Your Grace—”

“I liked it better when you simply called me Alex.”

“Alex,” she began again, determined to tell him why he’d found her in a church, seemingly about to marry another man.

But how, exactly, did one explain such a thing?

“What happened this morning…” she tried again.

“We can discuss it later. Just tell me one thing.” Alex reached out to touch her fading bruise. “Did he hurt you?”

Elizabeth looked down, unwilling to lie but ashamed of the truth. After a long moment she met Alex’s gaze again.

His eyes were hard. “He will pay,” he told her, his voice clipped. With one hand he tipped her chin, then studied her neck, patted her arms. “Where else did he hurt you?
How
else did he hurt you? Shall I summon a physician?”

“Nay, I am already mending quite well.”

“But perhaps, just in case…” His hands fretted over her body.

Seeing the duke brought low by worrying over
her
melted Elizabeth’s reserve.

She stilled his hands with her own. “Oh, Alex, just hold me.”

He did, snatching her into his arms with barely checked force. He stroked her hair, her back, over and over while he held her. “God, Elizabeth. You’ve no idea. When I returned to my sister’s and found you gone—”

Whatever else he’d been going to say was lost, for his lips found her forehead, her brow, as he covered her with kisses.

Elizabeth inhaled his scent, absorbed his strength. There were a thousand questions to ask about the future, but they would wait for now.

“Tell me again,” he murmured against her neck, nuzzling at her earlobe.

Elizabeth tipped her head to allow him greater access. “Tell you what?”

“That you’ll marry me.”

“I’ll marry you,” she breathed, unable to believe that Alex Bainbridge, Duke of Beaufort, had proposed to her. If this was a dream, she hoped it would never end.

The vicar stood in the shadows of a stairwell, watching the handsome couple at the altar.

He would lose the generous sum Wetherby had promised him for performing the marriage ceremony, but there was no doubt in his mind that the red-haired young lady had made the right choice.

What had he just done? How had this slip of a girl transformed him from London’s worst libertine into a man who dashed across the countryside to propose marriage?

The funny thing was, it felt
right
. As though marrying her would make him whole.

Alex looked at Elizabeth, standing beside him. She appeared a bit dazed. Not that he could blame her.

“Let’s go,” he told her, taking her hand and leading her from the little country church. He squinted his eyes against the bright morning sunlight. There was no sign of Wetherby. Good.

Alex’s horse stood near the gate to the church cemetery, looking disgruntled—no doubt he’d been expecting a rubdown and some oats after tearing across the countryside.

Alex walked over and picked up the reins, his eyes drifting over the tombstones as he did.

Lord Medford was probably rolling in his grave. When he’d offered Elizabeth up to the duke to settle his debts, could he have had any inkling of how well suited the two were?

Alex would have smiled, but the irony was too grim. If he
had
agreed to marry Elizabeth when her father first proposed it, the baron might still be alive. And Elizabeth certainly wouldn’t have suffered the trials of these past months.

It was better she didn’t know the extent of her father’s betrayal. She’d suffered enough.

Alex’s horse presented another problem.

“I was so intent on finding you, I didn’t think how I’d get you back to town,” he apologized. “My horse is good, but I doubt either you or he would be comfortable riding double all the way back to London.”

He glanced around the village. Besides the church, it boasted a few shops and homes, and a small inn. “Stay here a moment—promise me you won’t move an inch.”

Elizabeth did exactly as he asked. After the tumult of the morning, she wasn’t sure she could move an inch if she had to, other than, perhaps, to collapse in relief and wonder.

Alex was gone mere minutes before he came striding back, looking mildly put out.

“There are no carriages for hire until the next town over—perhaps two or three miles. You’ll have to ride in front of me. My horse can carry us both that far,” he told her.

She nodded. But she had a more pressing need than transportation. She stared at the ground, her neck and face heated, hating for Alex to know just how Harold had weakened her. “Alex, before we go, is there somewhere we can eat? I’m hungry.”

“Hungry? The noon hour is still a way off.”

“I know, but…”

She knew when he understood the truth of it by the way his eyes darkened. “That
bastard,
” he bit out savagely. “If I
ever
get my hands on him—”

“Alex.”

He stopped. “My apologies. Of course, dearest. We’ll find something to eat.”

Grateful tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away, but when Alex returned ten minutes later with a thick ham sandwich and an apple, they flooded forth. She cried even as she ate, sitting on the ground in front of the little church.

To her surprise, her stomach filled long before she wanted to be done.

“It’s all right,” Alex said gently. “I guess you haven’t had a good meal in some time. If you try to overdo it now, you’ll just make yourself sick.”

She nodded but clenched tight the remains of the sandwich.

Alex held her close. “God, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you all along. This should never have happened to you.”

“You came for me. You’re here now.”

“And I’m not going anywhere.” He carefully pried the food from her hands and wrapped it in a cloth napkin. “We’ll bring this with us. When you’re ready, you can have it. You don’t ever need to worry about going hungry again.” He kissed her temple, her lips. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Yes. Please.” With that most basic need satiated, she wanted nothing more than to get as far from her memories of Harold’s torment as possible. Except…“Wait. There is one more thing. Bormley—that’s Harold’s servant. He put the potion in Harold’s wine this morning, at my request. I promised him payment for aiding my escape. Only,” she studied the grass at her feet, “I haven’t any way…” she trailed off, embarrassed at her request.

“Consider it done.” Alex glanced around. “He’s gone now. But I’ll see to it—you need never think of the matter again.”

Finally, Alex helped her mount the horse. Her senses jolted as he settled behind her and nudged the horse to a walk.

It was intimate, and improper, riding like this, with her bottom nestled against his hips, snug between his thighs.

But they
were
to be married—and there was really no other way. She tried to relax into the rhythmic gait.

After the intense scene in the church, Alex seemed hesitant to talk. Elizabeth didn’t know what to say either. So much had happened in the past few weeks. She didn’t want to relive it all right now.

She twisted around to look up at her new fiancé. His jaw was so strong, his eyes so intense. His unruly dark hair begged for a woman’s touch. This man owned estates throughout England, invested in ventures at home and abroad, and wielded more power than anyone she’d ever known.

And he’d come to rescue
her
. He’d offered to marry
her
.

She should be deliriously happy. Except—except she just couldn’t help but remember the incident with the man she’d encountered en route home after losing her governess’s position. Mr. Cutter, drunkard though he may have been, had unsettled her, shaken her faith that Alex’s intentions were sincere. Had Alex actually bargained with her father to accept
her
as payment for gambling debts the baron couldn’t cover? The thought made her ill.

He’d only pursued her
after
her father’s death, she reminded herself. But it was still possible he’d received notice from her father’s estate, saying the debt could not be repaid, and only then decided to make good on her father’s other “offer.” But he’d never mentioned anything of the sort to her…because it was shameful, or because it wasn’t true?

When he’d first pursued her, was it out of true interest or simply to “collect” on the agreement? And how had Cutter known of the situation? Had Alex actually discussed this with others? How many members of Society were secretly snickering—or, hopefully, appalled—that her very own father saw her as a fancy bargaining chip?

She was certain Alex cared for her now, but how much?

Was he marrying her out of love or guilt?

Dear God, what if his silence now was because he
regretted
his hasty proposal in the church?

Alex glanced down to see Elizabeth looking at him. The sun shone like flames on her hair where it escaped the confines of her cap, and he had a sudden urge to kiss the pert tip of her nose. But her eyes seemed shadowed.

“What is it?”

She shook her head and turned to face forward again.

“Elizabeth?”

She sighed. “What you did back there…”

“Was something I should have done long ago,” he finished for her.

“Should have? Or wanted to?”

“What do you mean?” Something was obviously bothering her.

“What made you pursue me in the first place?” she asked suddenly.

That was easy. “When I returned to find you gone, and heard what had happened…that Wetherby had taken you…it was the only thing to do. I only wish I’d been able to come faster.”

“No, no. I mean, why did you pursue me before all that? I mean, I nearly begged you to ruin me, and you refused. What made you change your mind?”

She was fiddling with her skirts. He could feel the tension in her body.

She did have a point.

“I can’t explain it,” he said slowly. “Your offer tempted me sorely, and later, when I discovered you under my sister’s employ, away from the falsity of Society…I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I know we did not begin on the most honorable of terms, and I apologize for that. My desire got the better of me.”

She turned to him as fully as their position allowed, narrowing her eyes. “It wasn’t because you were exacting payment from my father?”

Bloody hell. He swallowed, hard. How had she heard about that?

But no, he’d never
done
that. If anything, her father’s offer had nearly kept him from pursuing her at all.

Alex saw in her eyes it would do no good to feign ignorance. “No,” he told her, gently but firmly, “I was not trying to recoup your father’s debt through you.”

“But he did offer me.” She said it flatly.

“Yes.” Alex felt sick. But he wasn’t going to lie.

How could it feel, to know your father would do such a thing?

“I refused, and avoided further contact with Medford after that,” he told her. “I wasn’t even certain who you were at the time. At the Peasleys’ ball, I asked you to dance out of true interest. Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be his daughter.”

“But he was dead by then. You knew he’d never be able to repay the debt honestly.”

Alex frowned. “My sense of honor is not so entirely lacking as you suggest, my lady. The loss irritated me, but I would not expect a daughter to pay for her father’s misdeeds. If anything, that is why I refused your unconventional offer at first.”

“And later?” She seemed unconvinced. “If there was no agreement, then how did Cutter hear of it?”

“Cutter?”

She explained the incident in the park.

“Ah, Elizabeth.” He pulled her tense body back against his. His body was reacting to their intimate position atop the horse, but for once he kept his mind focused on what was best for her.

Even if he hadn’t accepted Medford’s awful proposal, he
had
wronged Elizabeth. She needed words right now, not his lust.

“That
was
my fault. On a night when I’d drunk too much—in an effort to forget you, and your outrageous proposal I’d just turned down—I made a brief mention of your father’s words. I was clear, even then, that I’d never agreed to it. I don’t believe I even named you, or your father. But Cutter must have heard of our affair and come to his own conclusion. I should never have mentioned it, and for that I am truly sorry.”

She nodded in seeming acceptance.

“Both of us have acted in ways that do little credit to our character,” she said softly. “I ran from home, and shamed my family by engaging in a scandalous affair.”

He leaned his head against hers. “I cannot fault you for running. I understand now, far more than before, why you were so desperate to avoid a fate tied to Wetherby.”

He kissed the top of her head, stroked her hair. “Nor, Elizabeth, would I undo anything we’ve done together, regardless of how it came about.”

“Nor would I,” she whispered.

Alex began nibbling at her ear. “It was you I wanted, Elizabeth, not some strange form of revenge against your father. I’m sorry I didn’t do the honorable thing and ask for your hand before claiming your body. You’ve no idea how I missed you while I was away. And then to return and find you gone…”

“I sent you a message,” she told him. “Just after I lost my position.”

He drew back slightly and shook his head. “I never received a letter. My business travels sent me in directions I hadn’t anticipated. Most of my correspondence never caught up.”

“Oh.”

Her pulled her close again. “I would never have ignored your troubles, had I known of them. Please believe that.”

“I do,” she whispered.

“And believe also, that those weeks away made me realize that more than anything, I wanted you by my side. Not just for a stolen afternoon here and there, but always.

“Forget your father’s bargain—it was the desperate rambling of a man brought low by his own weaknesses. But it has nothing to do with what’s between us.

“Let me make things right. Be my wife.” He dipped his tongue in to trace the contours of her ear, then the delicate hollow behind it.

She shivered. “Yes.”

“Elizabeth, we’re nearly there.”

She stretched sleepily and opened her eyes. It hadn’t been a dream. Alex Bainbridge, her
fiancé
, occupied the bench across from her in the enclosed carriage. And in his hands he held a letter. One all too familiar.

With a start, she came fully awake. “Where did you get that?”

“This? It slipped from your gown as you slept.” He turned it in his hands as though it were a foreign curiosity.

The seal was unbroken, she saw with relief. She held out a hand, palm up. “Please, may I have it back?”

“It’s addressed to me.”

He
couldn’t
read it. Not now. Not when everything was finally perfect, and he’d asked her to marry him. If he found out she’d been willing to settle for so much less, would he still love her? She couldn’t bear to have her heart broken a second time.

“Please, Alex.” She stretched her fingertips toward the letter. “It’s of no importance now—only a note I’d composed to you before you arrived at the church.” Her voice shook.

“What does it say?”

“I…well…only that I hoped I might count on your aid, once I escaped. Please, may I have it back now?”

Reluctantly, he handed it over. “Of course I would come to your aid, in anything. Sweeting, your cheeks are quite red. What else does the letter say?”

She dropped her gaze.

“I saw how you were treated out there. I promise, nothing you could tell me would lower my opinion of you. You are the bravest, cleverest woman I know.” He shifted seats to sit beside her, drawing her into his arms.

“I’m so ashamed,” she whispered.

“Darling, as you’ve already said, it’s of no consequence. You can tell me.”

She took a quivery breath. “I was frightened, out there, for even though I planned to escape, I had nowhere to go once I managed it. Home was no longer safe, and I hadn’t any letters of reference, so I—I wrote to you, and said that if the offer you once made me still stood, I would accept it now.”

She raised her eyes to his, and found only understanding, and love. Not condemnation.

“I am honored that you thought to turn to me in your hour of need,” he said, his voice choked. “But I stand by what I said earlier. You belong by my side as a cherished wife, and nothing less.”