Nothing But Scandal (18 page)

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.”

“I see.” Lady Holbrook’s face softened marginally. But she wasn’t done. “You know there were rumors after your disappearance.”

Elizabeth glanced at the Grumsbys and dipped her head. “So I have learned. Though I believe, as is often the case, the rumors were more interesting than the truth behind my absence.” She prayed her hosts couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart. Lying always made her uncomfortable.

“I see,” Lady Holbrook repeated. “Then you are not involved with Beaufort?”

“Lydia!” Her husband’s eyes bulged at the brutally direct question, but she waived him off.

“Involved?” Elizabeth echoed, trying to summon a blush. Not a difficult task when she considered the true extent of their “involvement.”

“I did meet him at Lady Grumsby’s estate, where I visited after leaving my cousins. The duke was there helping his nephew train a new pup. He’s quite an amiable man.” She prattled lightly, like a schoolgirl who’d developed a naïve but unrequited crush on the imposing duke. Again, not a difficult act, given that that’s exactly what she’d been a couple years ago.

“Amiable?” It was Lady Holbrook’s turn to sound the echo.

Marian and her husband stood nearby, smiling benign smiles, as though every word Elizabeth spoke was the full truth.

“Yes, I’ve always found my brother-in-law personable,” Lord Grumsby averred.

Elizabeth’s mother and Bea smiled and nodded as well, though the story she’d told did not implicate them in any way.

Behind their little group, additional guests had entered and were waiting to greet their hosts for the evening.

Lord Holbrook stepped forward. “Well, Miss Medford, welcome back to London. I hope your health will be sufficient to see you through the Little Season,” he said, taking his wife by the elbow and turning her to their newest guests.

Lady Holbrook looked as though she had more to say, but she dutifully went with her husband.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.

Slowly, the pounding of her heart subsided. She still had to get through the rest of the ball, but she’d passed the first test.

She scanned the ballroom as her party proceeded into it, but Alex had not yet arrived. She sighed and prepared herself to spend the next several hours either propping up the wall or taking refuge in the retiring room.

As it turned out, things were not quite so bad. The elderly Lady Tanner came over to join their party, followed by some of her friends.

“Young lady,” Lady Tanner addressed her gruffly, “I hear you’ve given your family some trouble over the summer.”

Elizabeth flicked a glance at her mother. “I believe we’ve settled our differences,” she said softly.

“Oh?” the older woman said, looking to Lady Medford for confirmation.

For once, Elizabeth’s mother did not let her down. “Elizabeth’s always been a headstrong girl,” she said. “But in the end, she’s done well for herself.”

Lady Tanner’s eyebrows raised. “Shall I take that to mean there is an engagement forthcoming?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Lady Medford replied with a mysterious smile that clearly implied she was withholding a juicy morsel of information.

“Well, then,” older woman said, and gave Elizabeth a gruff nod of approval.

Lady Tanner and her cronies soon fell to gossiping with Elizabeth’s mother. The presence of so many of Society’s matrons near Elizabeth seemed to quell some of the rumors about her reputation. She was by no means the most popular female on the dance floor, but she did not have to sit out every number.

Finally she heard the butler announce Alex’s name. Her heart caught in her throat as she watched her handsome duke enter the room. His evening wear was black, almost stark, but for a snowy-white cravat and shirt. He looked dangerous. Dangerously appealing.

Elizabeth swallowed. Why had she agreed to wait an extra week for their wedding?

“Are you certain two dances would be too many?” she asked Bea.

Marian and Bea, her mentors in this wild attempt to salvage her reputation, had allowed her to reserve only one dance with Alex.

Bea smiled knowingly. “Two dances would be showing him particular favor.”

“But we’ll be announcing our engagement soon. Oughtn’t he favor me?”

“Better not fuel the rumors more than necessary,” Marian advised. “If we’re to stick to our story that he became enamored of you while rusticating in the country, and that you’ve been chaperoned at my estate this whole while, we can’t have people asking too many questions.”