Nothing But Scandal

by Allegra Gray

  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 scruti
ny 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.

  He crossed the room to her, took both her hands in his. “Elizabeth, you don’t have to do this. Society can be cruel, and you’ve been through enough.”

  The bruise on her jaw was gone now, but the memory of it—and what she’d told him she’d lived through these past weeks—was more than enough to make him want to spare her further pain. “I’ve plenty of estates in the country where we can live.”

  She stepped closer, until she had to tip her head up to make eye contact. “I want to do this, Alex. You deserve better than a wife you have to hide in the country.”

  He waggled a brow at her. “The better to keep the other gentlemen away.”

  She grinned at his teasing tone, then sobered. “I love that you believe in me. But I have to do this for myself, and my sister. To restore my family’s reputation—if it can be done.”

  He knew she was right. And he knew it would be hard. “I’ll stand by you no matter what.”

  “You are an honorable man, my lord,” she told him softly.

  Alex stared at her for a moment. “No, I’m not.”

  He’d taken her virginity at a public inn as though she were a common tavern maid, then failed to keep their affair utterly secret. Failed to protect her.

  And even if their recent engagement meant those indiscretions could be forgiven, there were other things that could not.

  He looked into her luminous green eyes once more, and saw that she didn’t believe his response. Her faith in him shook him to the core, warmed the deepest reaches of his blackened soul.

  Her lips parted. Alex’s body quickened in immediate response.

  “Perhaps,” she said a little breathlessly, “you could take advantage of this moment as Marian and Bea intended, and make me forget I’ve got to show my face before dozens of self-righteous Society members who will vie to be the first to give me the cut direct.”

  “They wouldn’t dare.”

  She arched a brow. “Apparently you do not know women as well as you think, my lord.”

  He moved closer, folded her into his arms. “I beg you, give me the chance to prove otherwise.”

  She melted into his embrace. “That’s more like it.”

  God help him, he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to be the man she thought he was—and hoping she never found out otherwise. He crushed his lips to hers.

  Alex and Elizabeth decided, upon the recommendations of Beatrice and Marian, to wait until after Elizabeth was back in the good graces of the ton to announce their engagement publicly. This meant Alex’s original proclamation—that the wedding would take place in three weeks—had been modified. He’d generously doubled the allowance to six. He couldn’t understand why the women had pushed for even longer—but he did understand that it was important to his fiancée.

  “Surely,” he’d argued, in between highly distracting kisses that sent Elizabeth’s head spinning, “your magnificent team of coconspirators will have launched you to the very pinnacle of Society by then.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t so sure. But she, too, was anxious to make her marriage a reality.

  According to Marian and Bea, the Holbrooks’ upcoming ball was the hurdle Elizabeth must leap if she wanted her reputation back. The annual affair was small, as it was only the Little Season, but influential members of the ton usually attended. If Elizabeth could gain their approval, she would have smooth sailing afterward.

  Lady Medford agreed to attend at her daughter’s side, in order to show family solidarity and to further dispel rumors. Elizabeth’s mother was showing considerably more goodwill now that her daughter was to marry beyond her expectations, though she seemed uncomfortable whenever the duke was actually present. More than once Elizabeth had seen her mother’s gaze turn pensive, almost wary, when Alex entered the room. But perhaps it was only a lingering worry the duke would hold Elizabeth’s kidnapping against her. The current truce between Elizabeth and her mother had been formed only with the understanding that neither of them would speak the names of any of their male relatives, close or distant.

  Preparing for the ball kept Elizabeth’s mind from lingering long on such topics, thankfully. Bea and Marian would attend the event as well, and, of course, Alex, though they’d agreed he should not serve as Elizabeth’s escort. That duty fell to Brian Grumsby instead, as Marian had offered.

  Charity alone was left out. She’d indignantly pointed out she was eighteen now. It took a great deal to convince her she’d have an easier time at her first ball if her sister was a duchess and not the biggest source of gossip at the affair. She’d reluctantly settled for the role of wedding assistant, which Elizabeth happily bestowed on her.

  The short timeframe—the ball, to be followed barely three weeks later by a wedding—sent all the women into a flurry of preparation.

  Over the past year, Elizabeth’s wardrobe had suffered considerably, first by being modified into mourning clothes, then into governess’s attire.

  But with a sizeable transfer of funds from Alex and a lot of cajoling, she’d been able to talk a modiste into preparing a ball gown, for a considerable price, at such short notice.

  When the night of the ball finally arrived, Elizabeth’s nerves intensified. Her stomach writhed like she’d swallowed a snake, and her hands shook at the thought of facing everyone.

  She’d committed unforgivable breaches of propriety. No matter what she said, she feared anyone who looked into her eyes would see the truth: she had done everything they’d accused her of, including sleeping with the notorious Duke of Beaufort.

  Even with the Grumsbys, her mother, and Bea at her side, she stood as good a chance of receiving the cut direct as she did of being welcomed back into Society.

  Oh, how she wanted to flee again.

  Bea’s ladies’ maid was in her element, helping both women perfect their look for the ball.

  “Oh, stop fussing over me,” Bea finally told her, once her hair was finished. “I can do the rest myself. It’s Elizabeth who’s got to stun everyone tonight.”

  “An’ of course she will, my lady,” the maid said, turning her attentions to Elizabeth.

  Based on the advice of Marian and Bea, Elizabeth wore a gown of pale, creamy gold silk. It flattered her coloring, but held none of the bold overtones of the sapphire and emerald shades she normally chose.

  “You want to appear lovely, but innocent,” Marian had said. “No white, for it’s not your color, and will only set minds to wondering if you are as virginal as your gown.”

  “And no crimson, nor anything dark,” Bea had chimed, “for though they suit you, such colors would only remind everyone of your supposed passions.”

  “Perhaps I should select my gown to match the color of the Holbrooks’ walls, so that I may blend in?” Elizabeth had quipped, certain she would spend most of the ball wishing she could do exactly that.

  But now, as Bea and her maid helped with the finishing touches, Elizabeth had to admit they’d chosen well.

  The pale gold silk was cut in the Grecian style, a long column draping and covering her curves while still clinging to them. The gown fell in folds from one shoulder, leaving the other artfully bare.

  “It’s enticing because it’s unexpected,” Bea told her as she adjusted the shoulder to sit just so. “You don’t want to show too much décolletage, but to cover up completely would make people think you had something to hide. This will keep them guessing.”

  “I don’t know when I’ve ever put so much thought into a gown before,” Elizabeth told
her friend honestly.

  “Well, the effect is lovely. And if you will just stop wringing your hands, no one will ever doubt that you belong at the pinnacle of Society.”

  But Bea looked nearly as worried as Elizabeth felt.

  The pinnacle of Society. Elizabeth swallowed. As the duke’s fiancée, that’s exactly where she would be, ready or not.

  She straightened her shoulders and forced her shaking hands to her sides. “Well, then, we’d best be on our way.”

  They collected Elizabeth’s mother, who waited downstairs, then climbed into the readied carriage.

  Usually the streets of London were crowded, but tonight, to Elizabeth’s dismay, the coach made record time to the ball.

  Elizabeth noticed with relief that the Grumsbys’ carriage had arrived just in front of theirs. All too soon, their whole group handed their cloaks to the footmen and stood waiting for the butler to announce them.

  The butler’s voice seemed even louder than normal.

  When he reached the end of their party and called out, “Miss Elizabeth Medford,” a hush fell over the ballroom.

  A scant moment later, the volume escalated as every man and woman present turned to the person next to them and began murmuring in low voices.

  Elizabeth’s heart sank. But before she could even worry about facing the crowd, she had to pass muster with their hosts. Who, unfortunately, were approaching fast.

  Lady Holbrook was a solidly built woman with striking white hair and a no-nonsense expression.

  “Grumsby, how pleasant to see you. And Lady Medford, Lady Pullington.” She greeted them efficiently before turning to Elizabeth. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Miss Medford. I did not expect to see you.”

  “’Tis true I am only just returned from the country, my lady,” Elizabeth replied softly, just as she’d practiced.

  “Whereabouts in the country?” Lord Holbrook boomed, seemingly oblivious to his wife’s reasons for prying.

  “My cousin has a small property to the north.” That much was true. “His wife was lonely and much desired company. And I admit that the flurry of last Season turned out to be a bit much for me, especially after the loss of my father. So I seized the opportunity to remove to the country and visit them for a spell.”