by Allegra Gray
“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.”
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.
Chapter Fifteen
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.”