Nothing But Scandal (17 page)

She gave him a tremulous smile. His gaze dropped to her lips and she leaned in, needing his touch, his love.

His mouth captured hers with tender hunger. Her arms slid around his neck as she arched closer, parting her lips to receive his kiss fully. How had she ever thought to live without this man?

The carriage stopped.

“Have we arrived already?” she asked with regret. Though they’d been travelling for two days, stopping only at the coaching inns for meals and fresh horses, Elizabeth had welcomed the interlude as a temporary haven between her imprisonment and the scrutiny she would face by returning to London—with the Duke of Beaufort, no less.

“Not quite. I asked the driver to stop at my London house, but only for a moment. I wish to change carriages.”

It was true the rented carriage was not as luxurious as the duke’s own, but Elizabeth knew he had another reason.

Sure enough, within moments Alex’s driver—this time his normal driver, in full livery—brought a luxurious carriage with the Beaufort crest conspicuously emblazoned on the side. Their next stop was the Medford home, where they intended to make their engagement both official and public knowledge.

Elizabeth made the change to the new vehicle, but as it drew closer to her childhood home, she had second thoughts.

“Must we do this?” she pled. “Couldn’t you just haul me off to Gretna Green and be done with the matter?”

Alex smiled and leaned in for a kiss. A brief taste, and he pulled back. “A tempting notion indeed, but no. If we’re to have any hope of showing our faces in London, it’s best this be done properly.” A shadow crossed his face, as though something more were troubling him.

He’d said “we,” but she knew his concern was for
her
. The ton would forgive a duke anything, especially Alex Bainbridge. They would not be nearly so kind to her.

Their carriage turned onto the street her mother lived on.

“I don’t want to go in there.”

“I know,” he said tenderly, cupping her cheek. “But I am going with you. And I promise I’ve no desire to linger.” A shadow crossed his face, then just as quickly disappeared.

Elizabeth sighed. Though she’d already promised to marry Alex, he’d insisted on asking her mother and uncle formally for permission. Given how readily they’d betrayed her before, she didn’t see the point.

Why did her duke have to choose
now
to become chivalrous?

But she owed him so much. She could at least do this for him. She allowed him to help her from the carriage, then steeled herself at the barrage of emotions that threatened to consume her when the butler opened the door and led them in.

They waited in the rose salon, not bothering to take seats. Only moments passed before her mother and her Uncle George hurried in, curtsying and bowing. Elizabeth almost smiled at their anxious expressions. It wasn’t every day a duke came to call—especially not hand-in-hand with the daughter of the house—the daughter who was
supposed
to be imprisoned in the country with an altogether different man.

“What an honor, Your Grace,” Lady Medford said, only a hint of strain in her voice. “And Elizabeth, welcome home.”

Elizabeth tried not to be hurt that her mother had acknowledged Alex first.

“An honor, indeed,” Uncle George murmured.

Alex gave them each a lordly nod, reminding Elizabeth that though he might tease and play with her, he was every inch a duke. As long as he remained standing, her relatives did, too, looking uncertain. She smiled and kept her hand in his.

“Of course, you are welcome here, Your Grace. But my niece…I’m afraid I don’t understand. Where is Wetherby?” Uncle George asked.

She felt Alex stiffen in anger. For her, everything that had happened back at that house seemed strangely distant, as though it had happened to another woman rather than to herself.

“Don’t ever speak that man’s name in my presence again,” Alex ordered.

She suppressed the urge to shiver at his tone. Instead, she drew herself tall and spoke. “Whatever your intentions were in forcing me to spend time with that man, I must inform you that he and I most definitely did
not
suit.”

Alex was not nearly as restrained. “That blackguard belongs in jail. I can think of nothing, save one thing, I’d enjoy more than seeing him—and anyone who conspired with him—behind bars. Or dead,” he declared.

Uncle George managed to keep his expression neutral, though, Elizabeth noticed, his knuckles, gripping the back of a chair, had turned white. Her mother looked apologetic. Perhaps the plot had been contained to the two men.

“What one thing would you enjoy more, Your Grace?” Lady Medford asked uneasily.

He softened his tone. “Marrying your daughter.”

A swift look passed between the duke and Lady Medford, then Alex gave an almost imperceptible bow.

Though Elizabeth sensed something important had just happened, she didn’t understand the exchange. Her uncle appeared to have missed it entirely.

“This is the purpose of my call,” Alex told them calmly. “I’d like to request Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave Lady Medford’s body as she smiled. It wasn’t the giddy excitement one would expect for the mother of the girl who’d just landed the most coveted marriage proposal in England, Elizabeth noted dryly, but her mother
did
smile.

“Elizabeth, are you amenable to his request?” her mother asked.

She looked up at Alex, hoping he could see in her eyes how much she loved him. “I am.”

“But Ha—” Uncle George remembered himself just in time, though the near-slip earned him a dark look from the duke. “I mean, certainly, I can think of no greater honor for Elizabeth. Of course, you have my permission.”

Elizabeth sincerely doubted her uncle thought she
deserved
that honor, but she determined not to worry about that.

“You have my blessing as well,” her mother added.

Alex bowed. “I thank you, both.”

“You’ll stay here, of course, until the wedding, Elizabeth,” her mother said.

“No.”

Lady Medford’s shocked gaze flew to the duke.

“No, mother,” she explained. “I’m staying with Beatrice Pullington. I’m sorry, but after what happened the last time I returned home, I’ve no desire to do so again.”

Her mother had the grace to look guilty.

“And when will this wedding take place?” Uncle George asked.

“Three weeks,” Alex declared.

Uncle George narrowed his gaze. “Is there a
reason
for such haste? Must the ceremony take place sooner, rather than later?” His tone made it clear that he, at least, had not forgotten the scandal surrounding the young couple.

“No!” she hastily asserted—just as her fiancé said, “Yes.”

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped and she yanked her hand from Alex’s. “But—”

Lady Medford sat down, heavily, on the beige settee.

“I see.” Uncle George’s voice dripped with scorn.

“I don’t think you do. Though your lack of faith in your niece comes as no surprise.” Alex drew himself to his full height. “The matter is simple. I care deeply for Elizabeth, and she’s been through a great ordeal. I want her under my roof, under my protection, as soon as possible.”

Elizabeth relaxed and slipped her hand back into his.

“Then you’re not…?” her mother asked weakly.

“No,” she confirmed.

Lady Medford nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “Three weeks is hardly any time at all, but if His Grace wishes it, we will abide.”

“Certainly,” Uncle George confirmed, though his disgruntled expression belied his words.

“Elizabeth will have my full staff at her disposal. They can assist in any aspect of planning she wishes. I’m certain they are up to the task.”

“Of course,” Lady Medford said. “But a gown…”

“I’m sure that can be accomplished, too,” Elizabeth told her. She didn’t say it, but if her mother had any notion of helping her prepare for the wedding, she was going to be in for a disappointment. Bea and Charity, loyal friend and sister, were all the help she desired.

Alex seemed to sense her discomfort in discussing details, now that the biggest hurdle was out of the way. “Lady Medford, and sir, I thank you again for Elizabeth’s hand. We’ve had a long journey and are quite exhausted. I’m sure you understand. I’ll instruct my secretary to have any correspondence from you delivered to me personally, with haste, as I’m sure we’ll be in contact as the wedding draws near.”

Another round of bowing and curtsying, and they were back outside. Elizabeth took a deep breath, a weight lifted from her chest.

Suddenly she grinned, tempted to throw her arms around Alex and kiss him right then and there. For the first time in nearly a year, her future looked bright.

Working things out between Alex and her family was only the beginning of Elizabeth’s challenges. There was still the matter of working things—specifically her besmirched reputation—out with the ton.

First, she had to make sure Beatrice Pullington hadn’t succumbed to the lurid tales and turned against her. When she’d told her mother she’d stay with Bea, she’d not yet actually spoken with her friend.

Alex’s carriage took her to Bea’s home, dropping him off at his town house first.

“Elizabeth, if there’s any trouble—any at all—with your friend, please come straight back to me,” he’d implored her. “I want to know you’re safe and cared for, and I won’t rest easy until I’ve got you under my roof for keeps.”

She’d placed one small hand on his jaw. “Thank you, Alex. Of course,” she’d teased, “I imagine that’s not your
only
reason for wanting me under your roof.”

“Go on, you minx,” he’d growled as he climbed out of the carriage. “Tempt me not!”

The carriage had whisked her away, with daydreams of the many ways she hoped to soon tempt Alex Bainbridge filling her mind for the short trip to Lady Pullington’s home.

Bea’s house looked the same as ever, but Elizabeth felt like a different woman as she pulled the bell.

The butler answered, and Beatrice appeared moments later, looking slightly apprehensive. “Elizabeth. You’re back! I was so worried. Come in, come in. Are you all right, then?”

Elizabeth held out both hands to greet her longtime friend. “Perfectly all right. Better, perhaps, than you may even know.” She grinned mischievously.

Bea’s eyes widened. “What happened? There have been rumors, but you know how that is. And was that the
Duke of Beaufort’s
carriage I saw pulling away? Oh, Elizabeth, do tell.”

Elizabeth quickly filled her in, ending with her as-yet-unannounced engagement to the Duke of Beaufort.

“Oh, Elizabeth!” Bea repeated, her face filled with joy for her friend. “How amazing. And after all you’ve been through, you absolutely, absolutely, deserve this.”

Elizabeth grinned, relieved to confirm Bea was, as she’d known in her heart, a loyal friend.

“When is the wedding?”

It gave her the opening she needed. “Three weeks. But, Bea, I need a place to stay until then. I despise myself for imposing on our friendship again, but—”

“Say no more. You’re not imposing. Of course you can stay here.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bea.”

Bea hugged her. “I don’t know what I’d do without
you
to liven up my life. I’d probably be a dreadfully dull old widow!”

“Never!” Elizabeth exclaimed in mock horror, and both women giggled.

“Is your family not amenable to the marriage, then? I can’t fathom why not.”

Elizabeth sobered, then explained her imprisonment in Harold’s country house.

“No! How beastly! Your mother knew? Your uncle?”

“My uncle, certainly. Mother, well, I’m not sure. But I can’t go back home, Bea. Not after that.”

“No, I suppose not,” Bea agreed. “Are you really all right, then?”

Elizabeth thought of the wonderful man waiting to marry her. “I am now.”

Bea ushered Elizabeth straight to the room she’d stayed in before, and Elizabeth settled in happily.

Although she was deliriously happy to be marrying the man of her dreams, Elizabeth feared her reputation was beyond repair.

Lady Grumsby disagreed.

“You’ll
have
to reenter Society. There is nothing else for it.” Marian Grumsby spoke with certainty. She was one of Elizabeth’s first callers—after Charity, who’d arrived barely an hour after Elizabeth had settled in at Bea’s.

They sat in the small salon. Bea was out for the afternoon but didn’t mind at all if Elizabeth received callers. “This is your home, as long as you’re here,” she’d said.

Lady Grumsby, to Elizabeth’s relief, had been very enthusiastic about the engagement.

“I knew there was something different about the way he looked at you,” she’d crowed. “And of course I’m not angry with you. How could I be, when you and Alex are so obviously right for one another? I can—and did—find another governess. I could never find a better fiancée for Alex.” Her gaze became gentle. “Or a better sister for me or aunt for my children. Do you know how many women have been thrust in front of my brother since he was old enough to notice the fairer sex? And never once did he show any desire to form a lasting attachment with any of them—save you.”

Marian’s words were comforting, but as for her insistence that Elizabeth attend balls and teas as though nothing had happened…

“I couldn’t.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Alex and I will simply live quietly in the country. I mean, look around you. I’ve so estranged myself from my own family that I’m not even living in their home.”

Marian shook her head, her pretty brunette curls bouncing. “Elizabeth, there is no way to say this politely, but I wouldn’t want to live with your family either. Except perhaps your sister. I understand she’s lovely. But, honestly, the matter of where you live the last few weeks before your wedding is not nearly as important as whether or not you appear to be in hiding.

“The Duke of Beaufort is an important man, and you’ll be expected to entertain as befits that station. You cannot simply retire to the country. My dear brother may have agreed to that because he’s so besotted with you, but in the long run it would do him harm. You don’t want that.”

“No.” Elizabeth stared at her tea. She didn’t. She wanted happiness for Alex, wanted him to have a wife he could be proud of.

“There’s another reason,” Marian cajoled. “Think of your sister. As long as you are ruined, so is she. But if the ton can be persuaded it was all a big mistake, she may safely make her come-out and likely have a number of fine suitors to choose from.”

Elizabeth gave a hollow laugh. “Lately, it seems as though whenever someone wishes to coerce me, my sister is used as bait.” She briefly told Lady Grumsby of Harold Wetherby’s threat after she had again refused to marry him.

“How awful! Elizabeth, I never meant—”

“No, no.” Elizabeth waved her hand, smiling in earnest now. “I know you didn’t. I
do
care for my sister, very much.” Of her relations, Charity alone was a loyal friend. She deserved the best, and Elizabeth
had
endangered her future terribly. If there was some way to make that up, she would do it. Even if it meant facing the cold stares and wagging tongues she was sure to encounter from the rest of the ton.

After all Elizabeth had done—flouted nearly every one of Society’s strictures—it would be attempting the impossible.

“My lady,” Elizabeth said, “I fear my mistakes are so grave, they cannot be overcome in the eyes of Society.”

“You must call me Marian, now that we’re to be sisters.” The lovely brunette’s smile was genuine.

“Marian?”

She shrugged. “My mother was a bit fanciful. Named me after Robin Hood’s ladylove.”

“I like that very much.”

“Anyhow,” Marian continued, “the eyes of Society are not so discerning as all that. People would rather believe they made a mistake in judging you than risk falling out of favor with my brother. Being the Duke of Beaufort does have some advantages.”

“It will take more than that.”

“Which is why I am here. You’ll have me, my husband, and Lady Pullington to champion you, at the very least. And all of our reputations are beyond reproach.”

Elizabeth stared at the floor, not missing the implication that her own reputation did not share such favored status.

Marian laid a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t say that last to shame you. I think you’re a brave and fine woman. You must be, for Alex to care so deeply for you.”

“Marian, I am most grateful for your assistance, though I admit I am still uneasy.”

“Undoubtedly. But you mustn’t let anyone else know that. You must,
must,
hold your head high. They will pounce on your fear like starved cats on a mouse if they sense it.

“It would be nice if your mother were also to support you, though, of course, her word carries less weight both as your mother and due to your father’s circumstances.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I believe she could, at least, be prevailed upon to stand by my side at a ball. She will not wish to offend the duke.” She and her mother had spoken little since her return to London, save for the visit with Alex. Their relationship was still strained, though Elizabeth did at least harbor hope that her mother had not been involved in the plot with Harold.

“Then that settles it.” Marian smiled. “We shall make your reentry three weeks hence, at the Holbrooks’ ball.”

“But Alex wishes to be married in three weeks,” Elizabeth protested.

“What? Impossible!” Marian exclaimed. “Unless, of course, it is…well, necessary?” Her face flushed at the indelicate question.

“No, not in that way.”

“Then you must convince him to wait.”

“Convince the Duke of Beaufort he must wait?”

Marian laughed. “Good point. Even a few extra weeks would buy the time you need. Though, the longer the engagement, the better—at least from the ton’s perspective.”

Elizabeth sighed. As usual, the ton’s perspective was not one she shared. But she
did
want to be a wife Alex could be proud of. “I can try.”

“My brother will grant you anything you ask,” she predicted. “It’s settled, then. At the Holbrooks’ ball, you will reenter the ton with your head as high as though you had never left.

“My husband can serve as your escort—I’m sure I can convince him—and we’ll fashion a way to explain the whole scandal away. It will help that it’s only the Little Season, for the crowd will be lighter.”

“But what will we
tell
them?”

“About what?” Marian airily waved a hand, as though the gossip Elizabeth needed to face down were trivial.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Elizabeth said on a choked laugh. “About my relationship with your brother? About my sudden disappearance in the midst of last Season, and now my return? No matter how high I hold my head, people are bound to ask questions.”

A discreet knock at the door interrupted them, and Bea poked her head in. “I’m back—mind if I join you?”

Marian bounced up. “Perfect! Please do. You can help us plan.”

Bea scooted in and took a seat. “Plan what? I love schemes!”

“Elizabeth and I have just been discussing that she may not have such an easy time upon reentering Society. There has, as you may know, been considerable gossip. We were hoping you could help us form a plan of attack, of sorts.”

Beatrice beamed. “There’s nothing I’d like better.”

Though Elizabeth had dropped the matter of her father’s betrayal, it still bothered Alex. Of course, he knew far more about it than she did.

Never in a million years would he have envisioned himself engaged to the scoundrel’s daughter, but in truth, his engagement to Elizabeth made him feel as though he’d long been traveling a path off track and had suddenly been set on course. He was happy.

For the first time in months, he had a sense of peace and interest in his own future. He could imagine a son with Elizabeth’s vibrant red hair, or a daughter with her dreamy green eyes. He looked forward to escorting Elizabeth publicly, instead of sneaking around. She embraced life fully and wasn’t afraid of risks. She made him see things afresh.

Yes, the future was looking up. He just hoped the past could be forgotten.

But before he could forget, he needed to be certain he’d left no loose ends.

A quick private audience with Lady Medford confirmed that lady’s desire to avoid further scandal over the deceptive man she’d married.

“Elizabeth still harbors fond memories of her father, in spite of what she knows,” Lady Medford reminded him. “Why rob her of that peace?”

Alex agreed. His second errand was much simpler. An anonymous bank draft of a generous amount, sent to one former coachman, sealed the matter. Fuston was wise enough to know where the money came from, and that it purchased his silence. They’d discussed it before. This was simply a reminder.

With the past put safely behind him, Alex felt lighter as he stopped next at Lady Pullington’s house. Inside, he knocked softly on the half-open door to the salon where his fiancée sat talking with his sister and her friend. The butler had offered to announce him, but Alex had waived him off.

One glance at Elizabeth and he wanted her with an intensity that unnerved him.

While on the way back to London, once they’d finally secured a carriage, she’d been too exhausted from her ordeal to engage in any real intimacy.

He’d done little more than hold her while she slept, her peaceful body in stark contrast to his, rigid with unfulfilled desire.

And since their return, she’d been staying at Lady Pullington’s town house, where she seemed always to be surrounded by female friends, twittering excitedly about wedding plans.

It was almost enough to make a man run for the hills.

Instead, Alex pushed the salon door wider and entered. All three women stood, interrupting the charming scene.

“Alex,” Marian beamed. “We were just discussing how your lovely fiancée ought to reenter Society.”

Alex glanced at Elizabeth. She looked doubtful. Guilt twinged him—this was one more discomfort of Elizabeth’s that could be traced to him. Thank God that, unlike his other mistakes, the effects of this one could be undone.

“Perhaps I’d best leave you to plot. You’re the expert on societal strictures,” he said to Marian. Alex had absolute faith his sister would soon have his fiancée back in the graces of every clucking matron in the ton—as long as Elizabeth could withstand the excruciating scrutiny she was about to be placed under.

“No, really, we’ve nearly finished,” Lady Pullington told him. “Lady Grumsby and I were just about to visit the stationer. Right?”

“Please, call me Marian. And, yes, I believe we’ve made our decision—the Holbrooks’ ball it shall be. Chin up, dear Elizabeth.”

Marian and Bea exchanged looks, then hastily exited the room.

“I believe they mean to give us some privacy,” Elizabeth observed, a twinkle in her eye.