Nothing But Scandal (13 page)

“You will,” he grunted with exertion as he smacked her again, “learn obedience. I will not have a disrespectful wife.”

“Why did you leave the window unlocked if you knew I’d escape?” She tried twisting away, but his meaty forearm held her pinned.

“It was a test. To see if you could behave reasonably. But I see I was correct when I told your uncle you would require training.”

“Beast.” She spat the word.

He ignored the insult, instead hauling her to her feet as he grabbed a length of twine from his saddle and lashed her wrists together.

She yanked her arms away before he could secure them.

“If I must render you unconscious, I will not hesitate.”

Elizabeth stilled, but her mind continued working furiously to find a way out of this situation. Unfortunately, nothing immediately came to mind. He could physically overpower her, and with him on horseback it was impossible for her to escape on foot.

Harold lifted her onto the horse, grunting with the effort, then mounted behind her. She cringed at the close contact with his sweaty mass but remained silent. Angering him further now would only make things worse.

Harold turned the horse back toward the house. He allowed the animal to amble along slowly, using the time to run his hands along Elizabeth’s sides. Bile rose in her throat as she felt his growing erection press into her backside.

The twine cut into her wrists, but no matter which way she twisted them, she could not loosen the binding. Only when she was certain she couldn’t stand another minute of his filthy groping, they reached the house.

It was an unassuming, two-story structure painted in pale blue. Large enough to house a family, perhaps a servant or two. It certainly didn’t
look
like a prison.

The front door opened and an unfamiliar man stepped out. He had a greasy look about him, groomed but not clean. After searching her memory, Elizabeth placed him as the coach driver who’d aided Harold in abducting her. Another enemy.

Harold dismounted in the yard. Elizabeth resented mightily that she had to wait for him to lift her from the horse.

The servant came over and took the reins from Harold. “Right quick you were in recovering her, sir.”

Harold’s chest puffed and he put an arm about Elizabeth’s waist. “She’s willful, but no match for me.”

She jerked away. The servant gave a nasty chuckle and led the horse toward the barn.

Her whole body felt abused—a feeling that did not lessen as Harold dragged her back into the house and up to the room she’d so recently escaped.

“Now, Elizabeth, I suggest you rethink your ways,” he told her when they stood once more in the hated room. “Though chasing you down is exhilarating, I prefer a more submissive female for a wife. I’ll untie you now, but I hope you’ve learned a lesson from this.” He began working at the knot, but not before giving her backside a solid pinch.

Elizabeth kicked at his shins, but her dainty footwear was no match for his riding boots. “Not only am I not your wife, I’ve made it abundantly clear I will not marry you.” The moment her wrists were free, she sent an elbow flying into his ribs.

“I am sorry to hear that,” he grunted, not sounding sorry at all. He released her with a hard shove that sent her stumbling against a wall. “You’ve become an obsession with me, my dear.”

“Clearly.” She rubbed the circulation back into her wrists.

“All my life I’ve been told what things I couldn’t have. Things I wasn’t good enough, noble enough, for. And you, a baron’s daughter, thought you were so far above me. Parading around in your finery, treating me like a poor relation when all along, your father was spending your fortune in the gaming hells. Well, look who’s the poor relation now. Not so lofty now, eh?”

Elizabeth couldn’t remember ever intentionally lording it over her poorer cousins, most of whom were decent people, but one thing Harold said was true.

She thrust out her chin. “Money or not, you’ll never be good enough for me.”

“Your hauteur is impressive, but we both know that’s not true. If it weren’t for me, you’d be out on the streets.”

“I’d find that preferable to here. I’m perfectly capable of fending for myself.”

“Oh? Then why did you come crawling home when your last little adventure turned sour?”

“I must not have been thinking,” she muttered.

“On the contrary, that was perhaps the most rational decision you’ve ever made. If only you’d followed up by learning to be grateful and obedient. You may as well resign yourself, Elizabeth. No other man will have you now.”

Elizabeth shrugged. Men, she’d learned, were vile creatures. Not a one could be trusted.

“Consider your next actions carefully, Elizabeth. You’ll have plenty of time.” He stalked out, once more locking the door.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that the last time she’d eaten had been the fateful dinner before her abduction. Did Harold intend to starve her into submission?

She recalled the tea tray he’d kept from her earlier. Apparently, he did.

When Harold’s clomping footsteps receded into silence, she allowed the tears of frustration that had been building all day to flow freely.

How had she reached this state? Ten months ago she’d been the carefree daughter of the Baron Medford, and even one month ago she’d been happy enough as a governess and a lover to one of the most powerful, coveted men in England.

But neither her father nor the duke had been the men they’d seemed, and now she was nothing more than the pawn of a man she thought less of than toad spawn.

Women were
supposed
to place themselves in the care of men. Well, look where that had gotten her.

She wasn’t being fair, at least to Alex. He
had
offered her more protection than she’d been willing to accept.

She shook her head. What a fool she was for the duke, even now, looking for ways to exonerate him. She should know better. Even if Alex hadn’t used her to pay her father’s debts, the way that drunk, Cutter, in the park had suggested, he was still a man who routinely seduced and left women. He might have offered her money or jewels, but would he have guarded her heart, her person, with as much care? Clearly not—she hadn’t had so much as a note from him since he’d left on business.

From now on, she would trust no one but herself.

Elizabeth was not given to long bouts of self-pity. When her tears were spent, anger grew in their place. Anger at herself.

Her fury with Harold had not abated, to be certain, but now she berated her own foolishness in attempting to escape without a plan. She’d panicked and fled, and, predictably, been caught.

Elizabeth gripped the windowsill of her prison bedroom and narrowed her eyes. Next time she would do much better.

Alex grinned as Viscount Grumsby’s country manor came into view. He’d been away on business for far longer than he’d anticipated. Finally he’d gotten the mess straightened out. The ship was nearly done with repairs, the captain replaced and his partner appeased. Profits were off, but they’d recover on the next expedition to India. Everything looked promising. Only one problem. He’d sorely missed Elizabeth. And not just physically, which surprised him.

No, he’d missed her spirit, her sense of adventure. He’d missed the way that, in spite of her family’s downfall, she always looked forward, not back—something he’d struggled with lately.

Hence the visit to his sister and her husband before he returned to London.

The drive leading up to the house seemed longer than usual, and it was with relief that he finally pulled the phaeton alongside the house and tossed the reins to the groom who ran up to assist.

“Have the carriage put away, and see to the horses. It’s been a long road.” He sprang down, suddenly full of energy, and strode toward the house.

Inside, the butler informed him that the lord and lady of the house were out for the day. No matter. It would save him the pretense of visiting with them before he could speak to Elizabeth.

“And the children?”

“Outdoors, my lord, with their governess.”

“Perfect.”

Alex retraced his steps, then headed back to the gardens, where Elizabeth most often played with his niece and nephew. Sure enough, he heard the laughter of children just before a small boy came hurtling toward him.

“Uncle Alex. Hurrah!” Henry cried.

He swept the boy up and tossed him into the air. Henry squealed in delight.

“Again!”

“In a minute,” Alex told him, looking around for Elizabeth. But all he saw was Clara bending over a flowerbed next to an older gray-haired woman.

“Henry, where is your governess?”

“Just there, Uncle.” Henry pointed to the older woman.

Alex frowned. “No, I mean, where is Miss Medford?”

“She’s not here anymore.”

“What do you mean, ‘not here’?” Where the devil else would she be? His feeling of buoyant anticipation evaporated.

Henry shrugged. “She said she had to leave. I didn’t want her to, but she did anyway. She was fun, Miss Medford was. But Mama says we’re to obey Miss Grif-ford now.”

Gone? What the devil had happened? Disappointment flooded him.

“Uncle Alex, will you toss me up again?”

“Not right now, Henry,” he said absently. “Go and play with Clara.”

“But, Uncle Alex—”

“Henry, I’ve matters to attend. Go play with your sister.”

The boy’s face fell as Alex turned and strode toward the house. He’d make it up to the lad another time. Right now he was sorely distracted by the disappearance of one Elizabeth Medford.

“To what good fortune do I owe this visit, Alex?”

Alex ignored his sister’s trivial politeness. “Where is she?”

Marian quirked a brow. “She?”

Heaven help his sister if she meant to play games with him. “You know exactly whom I mean. Where is Elizabeth?”

He’d been unable to pry any useful information from the servants, so, pacing the rooms of the house incessantly, he’d waited for Marian’s return. Had Elizabeth left to avoid him? Had she received some better offer of employment? Or—he swallowed hard—an offer of marriage?

Thankfully, his sister had cut short her outing and returned before he’d worn a path in the floorboards.

“Where is she?” he repeated, while Marian untied her bonnet with maddening slowness.

“I let her go. Alex, give me a moment. I’ve hardly walked in the door. If you’ll follow me to the salon, we can discuss this over tea. I find traveling leaves me quite parched.”

“What do you mean, ‘let her go’?” Alex demanded of his sister, blocking her from proceeding to the salon. He’d be damned if he was going to wait while a servant brought tea. He needed to know what had happened to Elizabeth,
now
.

Marian pressed her lips together and squared her stance. “I had no choice. All of London was abuzz with gossip concerning her.” She gave him a sharp look. “And, of course, you, Brother.”

Alex looked away, unable to deny her unspoken accusation, but uncertain how knowledge of his affair with Elizabeth could have leaked.

“Your rash actions have cost me a good governess.” Marian cast him an admonishing glance. “Let me speak frankly, Alex. I know you’re used to having any woman you desire, but you usually take care she comes to no harm. Why Elizabeth? She was a nice girl, even if her family was unfortunate, and the children loved her.”

“I’m sorry. I know the children liked her.” Striding to the door, he asked, “Did she say where she could be located in the future?”

“Indeed.” She folded her arms.

“And?” It took considerable willpower not to throttle his younger sister.

But Marian wasn’t done with him. “After her father’s death, everyone simply pitied Elizabeth for her new circumstances. When she left home to work as a governess, Society cut her off—or would have, had her whereabouts been known.

“But it wasn’t until
you
seduced and then left her that respectable women began dragging their children to the other side of the street rather than be seen with her, Alex.” His sister shot him a look of withering scorn. “Her reputation has been ruined beyond reproach. She has no future.”

Marian could berate him later to her heart’s content. Now, all he wanted was to find Elizabeth.

“Mar-i-an.” He enunciated each syllable, his impatience barely contained. “Where did she go?”

“Home, I believe. That is…
if
they were willing to have her back.”

“Right.” He turned and exited through the door his sister had entered only moments ago, leaving her gaping at his unprecedented lack of manners.

“Groom!” he called as he made for the stables. The same lad he’d met earlier ran up. “Have the phaeton put to and the horses readied. I’m leaving for London immediately.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Aye, my lord.” He hurried off, though Alex thought he heard him mutter “only just put them out,” as the groom went to do his bidding.

Alex impatiently ground the toe of his highly polished boot into the dirt while he waited. Damn. How had all this happened while he was away? And why hadn’t someone thought to inform him of it?

His horses neighed in protest as Alex slapped the reins of the hastily readied vehicle. They were tired, but he drove them hard. He knew his young lover had been desperate when she’d left home. He could only imagine how desperate, and betrayed, she must feel to return. And it was his fault, damn it.

He had an apology to make. Likely one involving jewelry. But he was not willing to let Elizabeth go so easily.

Guilt pressed down on him as his sister’s words registered. Elizabeth’s reputation was in shreds. It wouldn’t be the first time a female had fallen from Society’s good graces, though he couldn’t recall any who had done it with quite the dramatic flair of his Elizabeth. That thought almost brought a grin to his face, though he doubted she would share his humor.

In fact, she had every right to be angry with him. His unstable mood soured again as he realized his own role in the young lady’s ruin. He was responsible for more than just seducing her, though she didn’t know it. He’d tried to set things right, but when it came to Elizabeth Medford, he was always one beat out of sync. And since he couldn’t seem to stay away from her, he’d just have to try again.

After several broken hairpins, Elizabeth decided lock-picking was far more difficult than the heroines of her favorite novels had led her to believe.

Which meant she’d have to be clever, perhaps trick Harold into believing she’d succumbed. If she could “earn” the freedom to wander the premises, she could plan an escape route, or even find a way to send for help. She had no money. Still, there had to be a way.

Plotting kept Elizabeth from paying attention to the gnawing hunger growing in her belly. But by the time the evening twilight cloaked the fields, and the luscious smell of roasting beef wafted up the stairs, nothing could turn her attention from her appetite.

She hadn’t eaten since the night she’d been kidnapped. She wasn’t quite sure how long they’d traveled before reaching their current location, but Harold had told her the betrothal had been signed two nights ago—meaning it had been quite some time since she’d had a real meal.

Because, during
that
cozy family dinner, she’d had little appetite, thinking Harold meant to press for an engagement. If only she’d known what was actually coming, she’d have paid more attention to her plate and less to her potion-laden wine.

When the light outside dimmed further, and still Harold had not revisited her, Elizabeth resorted to pounding on the door. She would need energy, a clear head, for what she’d planned for tomorrow. That meant a meal tonight, and right now her bloody captor was keeper of the kitchen.

She heard his footsteps with a mixture of relief, anger, and fear.

The door opened partially—enough for her to see him, and see that his girth blocked any chance of rushing past him. She was certain that was intentional.

“Yes?” he asked curiously, as though he’d no idea what she might want.

Bloody cur. She hated him for making her beg.

“I thought perhaps you meant to share your evening meal with your fiancée.” She referred to their union with all the sincerity she could muster, though the thought of sharing anything with Harold nearly made her gag.

In truth, she didn’t plan to be around long enough for the reference to matter.

“Dear me, I must have forgotten,” Harold said. “Though your behavior this morning hardly led me to believe you would be amenable. Perhaps you’d care to apologize for that?”

She hated him even more. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused.”

He gave her a satisfied and knowing smile. “Still, I think it’s best if you stay up here a while longer. I’ll bring up a tray.”

Fine. She didn’t care where she ate the meal, so long as it consisted of food. Of course, he was also denying her the opportunity to explore her prison.

He returned, bearing a small tray. “Since I have already eaten, I shall simply keep you company.” He passed the tray to her, then seated himself in the room’s most comfortable chair.

When Elizabeth saw how little food he’d allotted her, she wanted to cry. Only pride kept her tears at bay.

“I’ve heard it said you ladies have delicate appetites, so I hope this won’t be too heavy for you, my dear.”

The tiny amount of beef and bread wouldn’t have been too heavy for a sparrow. It was enough to whet, not satisfy, an appetite.

Elizabeth gave him a smile as though everything was just perfect, and proceeded to eat as primly as possible, in spite of the desire to gulp it down and plead for more.

Harold watched through narrowed eyes. The moment she was done, he stood and retrieved the tray.

“I trust you’ll have a good night’s sleep, dear Elizabeth. Mayhap tomorrow we can continue this improvement in our acquaintance.”

“Mayhap.” She smiled through clenched teeth. When she escaped—and she
would
escape—she needed a place to go. The Duke of Beaufort was a rake who’d broken her heart, but she felt certain if he knew her dire straits, he’d not deny her his protection. Whatever it took, she had to get a message to Alex.

The duke’s horses were lathered and dragging their hooves by the time he arrived at No. 9 Milton Road. Between the trip to his sister’s, and then to London, not to mention Ramsgate and Dorset, Alex wasn’t looking his best either as he launched himself from the phaeton and up the steps of the Medford residence.

A butler in faded livery showed him in, and Alex stalked impatiently as he waited for the sight of the woman he’d so missed. But the person who greeted him no more resembled Elizabeth than a street pebble resembled a ruby.

“Your Grace, an unexpected pleasure.”

Alex was not in the mood. “Who are you?”

“George Gorsham, Lady Medford’s brother, Your Grace.”

Ah. The “Uncle George” Elizabeth had referred to so disdainfully.

“Where is Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth’s uncle didn’t quite meet his eye. “I’m afraid she’s not here.”

“What do you mean, ‘not here’?” Alex felt like an echo. Where the bloody hell was she?

“My niece has retired to the country for the time being. I’m afraid she found city life a bit much.”

God’s teeth, the man was unhelpful. “Where in the country, exactly? I want an address.”

George rubbed his palms on his pants, then clasped them nervously. “I cannot tell you, Your Grace.”

“Can’t—or won’t?” Alex asked, his tone ominous.

“Can’t. I am sorry. But perhaps, if you’ve business with Miss Medford, I might be able to get a message to her.”

Alex took a step closer to give the other man the full effect of his height. “How, Mr. Gorsham, do you intend to get a message to Elizabeth if you do not know her address?”

“I—I don’t know it, I swear,” George said, now wringing his hands. “But I know someone who would, and if I hear from him, I could relay the message.”

“There’s no need of that. My business with her is my own. Who is this person who can tell me her whereabouts?”

“Harold Wetherby.”

“Wetherby? You
must
be joking.” Harold was the last person Elizabeth would confide in.

“No. She is with him.”

“Alone?” His pulse quickened and a muscle in his clenched jaw began to twitch.

George didn’t meet his eye. “Er, I couldn’t say.”

Alex grabbed the other man by his cravat. “Did she go willingly?”

George didn’t answer, though the pressure Alex was exerting on his neck may have hindered any response. But Alex didn’t need an answer. He knew how Elizabeth felt about her cousin. Finally, as George’s eyes bulged, Alex released him. George slumped into a chair and fought to regain his breath.

“If Elizabeth comes to any harm at the hands of that black-hearted cur, I will hold you personally responsible.” He left the man gasping as he stalked from the room.