Nothing But Scandal (26 page)

“True enough, in its way, and yet not a full picture of the events that transpired.”

Elizabeth waited, trying to quell the hope filling her heart, lest it grew strong only to be quashed again.

“On the night your father died, Elizabeth, I was hosting a party. A gaming party. Not an unusual event for me, though I’d not expected your father in attendance.

“The guest list was exclusive, and as your father’s debts to me were already considerable, I’d discontinued our interaction some months before. But he arrived that evening as the companion of a guest I did invite, and I saw no need to create trouble. Perhaps he would win that night, and if not, what was one more member of the nobility with an unwise penchant for gaming? I simply decided
I
would not play against him that night.”

“Yes, I know of my father’s habit,” Elizabeth confirmed quietly. Thus far, her husband’s account made sense.

“Your father did not win that night, but he did consume great quantities of spirits. I fear they clouded his judgment in more ways than one.”

“Your Grace?”

“Your father lingered until most of the guests had gone home. I’d managed to avoid him during the gaming, but at this point he decided to confront me. I’d finished seeing a good friend to his carriage and was headed back indoors when he called across the lawn.” Alex frowned. “Elizabeth, I’m not sure how much of this you should hear.”

Elizabeth met his eye. “I think it best you explain fully.”

“’Tis said unwise to speak ill of the dead,” he countered.

Elizabeth sighed. “I’ve come to understand my father was no saint. And these secrets have been kept long enough, done damage enough. Tell me what happened and they will hold no further power.”

He raked a hand through his hair and nodded. “I am afraid your father, spurred on by the amount he’d drunk and his own knowledge of just how deep his debts ran, had reached a point of desperation. He attempted to recoup his losses at gunpoint.”

“At gunpoint?” she echoed. “He threatened you? But why…?”

“Because of you, Elizabeth.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Actually, you know this part already. When he’d come to me before, several months prior, the proposal he’d made to settle his debts involved you. That was why we’d fought.” Alex looked away, weariness etched in his features.

Elizabeth swallowed, then suddenly stood as a flash of realization struck her. “When you made me your mistress…you were…you were fulfilling those terms? You were recouping what you were owed? But that was after my father’s death. No! You told me, when you rescued me from Harold, that you’d never—” Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. She stepped back. “You cared for me, I know you did. Maybe not at first, but…”

“Hush, darling.” Alex stood, too, and put tentative arms around her.

Elizabeth stood stock-still, the feel of his embrace foreign and yet so achingly familiar. Tears raced down her cheeks. How much of their relationship had been a lie? Had she ever known this man? Oh, but she had, her heart argued.

“I never agreed to your father’s proposal. Never.” His thumb slowly stroked, back and forth, along her jaw, and it was all Elizabeth could do to listen to his words. So many nights she’d longed for his touch, wondering—even as she’d reminded herself why she ought to despise him—if she would ever feel it again.

“I’m sorry to even bring it up—I only did so to explain exactly how things came about, the night of his death,” he continued. “As I said, I’d cut off contact with him after it became clear he could not pay his debt in pounds. Never once, after I actually knew you, did I consider using you on such terms.”

He cupped her chin and tilted her head toward his. “Not once,” he repeated, his gaze fierce. “What we had—what we have—is entirely between us.”

She believed him. Lord help her and all the other fools, but she did. She took a deep breath and relaxed, slightly, in his arms.

“Wait a minute.” This time, Alex was the one who stepped back.

He frowned thoughtfully. “You said a moment ago you’d been trying to uncover the truth about that night…Is
that
what you were doing those many times you refused to explain your whereabouts or what you’d been doing on your outings?”

“It is.”

His face cleared but only for a moment before he dropped his forehead into his hands with a groan. “And for that I accused you of adultery,” he mumbled from between his fingers. “Elizabeth, it is I that am the fool. A fool, a cad, and a man unworthy of your trust. When I thought you…It killed me, to think the one woman I’d dared love, I’d dared let myself believe in, would give herself to another. I apologize. I should have known you would not betray me so.”

“Yes, you should have,” she said softly. A piece of the great weight bearing down on her broke off and crumbled. “But I forgive you.”

He looked up. “You do?”

“Yes. I can see how my behavior would have seemed odd. And both of us were keeping secrets…How were we each to know what those secrets were, or trust the other? I did betray your trust. Just not in the way you thought. And I, too, am sorry.”

He appeared to consider that.

All her life, she’d thought she needed someone to believe in her, to love her. That was true. But she needed someone to believe in her
fully
. To believe in her enough to share the truth with her, not simply try to protect her from it.

“Alex, I need to hear the rest.”

“All right,” he said heavily. He led her back to the bench and they sat.

Alex tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose, then released it and met her eye. “It was not one of your father’s more admirable moments, but he seized on the details of that proposal and twisted them until he’d convinced himself that I was responsible for ruining you as revenge for those unpaid debts.”

“How could you have ruined me? We’d hardly ever met.”

“I know. But as I said, his mind was heavily fogged that night. I tried to reason with him, but his capacity for reason was limited. It became clear he’d no intention of relinquishing his weapon, and considerable intention of using it. He tossed me a second weapon, and demanded I give him satisfaction.”

“A duel?”

“Well, it was nearing dawn, but we had no seconds, and he followed through on his demand before any such arrangements could be made.”

“He shot at you?”

Alex nodded. “I am sorry to tell you this.”

“You could have been killed!”

“Given his state, he’d have had a better chance of accomplishing that if he’d been aiming elsewhere. Though I’m not sure what he hoped to gain through my death, except, perhaps, that I’d no longer be anxious to collect on my debts.

“After his shot missed, he began reloading as he walked closer. It became clear—if there’d been any doubt before—this was no gentlemen’s duel.” He gave her a searching look. “Elizabeth, a man at close range, even a foxed man, can be quite dangerous. When he raised his weapon again, I gave him no chance. I fired first.”

Her throat tightened and she couldn’t breathe, let alone speak, as she envisioned the events the duke described.

“I’d aimed for his knee, but two things sent my shot awry. For one, it was a weapon unfamiliar to me, and every pistol is slightly different. Second, and most unfortunate, was that the moment I fired my shot was the very same moment the drink finally got the better of your father. He stumbled just as I fired, and his chest took the shot meant for his knee. I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”

Her mind reeled. If what he said was true, then her father’s death
had
been an accident—just not a
carriage
accident. A man threatened on his own property, a man who defended himself from that threat, was not a murderer.

But could her father truly have been so recklessly foolish as to have issued the challenge Alex described? And had he used
her,
his own daughter, as an excuse? She’d thought she’d come to terms with her father’s errors, but this new revelation stung.

“Did he—did he die immediately?”

“Yes. By the time I reached him on the lawn, he was gone.”

“You didn’t mean to kill him.”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I confess I held no love for your father—a man who gambled beyond his means, who would use his own daughter—but I did not wish his death. And yet I did cause it.”

“If what you say is true, though, you cannot hold yourself responsible.”

“Have you ever killed a man, Elizabeth? Intentional or no, it is impossible not to feel the weight of responsibility. Still, I would not have you think me a murderer.”

She saw the regret etched in his features, the weight of the guilt he’d been carrying reflected in his eyes.

“Do you believe me, Elizabeth?”

The story made sense, and yet, the whole scenario was so macabre, she was left unsettled.

So she opted for telling him the truth. “I want to believe. I do. Yet it is difficult to accept such things of one’s father, in spite of all I know about him now.”

“I wish you would believe based on my word alone, but I know that is difficult, especially as my behavior these last months has given you little reason for such trust.” He covered one of her hands in his.

She didn’t move, didn’t withdraw it, but also gave him no positive response.

He nodded in acceptance, then sighed heavily.

“There is someone who can verify what I’ve told you,” he said.

“There is?” That was a surprise. In all her weeks of discreet questioning, she’d hadn’t turned up a soul who claimed to know a thing. “Who?”

“Your mother.”

“My mother?” Elizabeth echoed in blank shock.

“She was in attendance that night as well.”

“But—”

“She came with Lady Jameson but intended to leave with your father,” Alex confirmed. He smiled grimly. “I would never have invited her either—please don’t take offense, my dear—but both your parents came as guests of those I
had
invited. The gaming community among the nobility is small, even more so during the winter, when many are away.”

“But—”

“Perhaps she can better explain than I.”

And so Alex led Elizabeth from the stables and called for his coach to be put to immediately.

The night was yet young by ton standards, but Elizabeth felt as though a hundred years had passed since she’d gone down to the stables that evening.

She climbed into the coach obediently, without thinking to pack a valise or bring even so much as her reticule, her mind focused only on what her mother could possibly say to explain the bizarre accounting she’d heard from her husband.

Alex sat next to her in the coach, their knees lightly touching, though he made no move to hold her again.

She wanted him to, though. The heat of him, his scent, his nearness made her throat ache with unshed tears. She’d missed him these past weeks. And her gut told her that tonight, he’d spoken true.

It was important to her to hear what her mother said before she did anything else, though. Elizabeth had the feeling she’d spent most of her life being kept in the dark—first by her father and her mother, and then by her husband. It was time that ended.

There was little surprise on the baroness’s face when she greeted them. In fact, she looked like a person who’d resigned herself to a meeting both long-anticipated and long-avoided.

“Mother.”

“Elizabeth. Your Grace.” Lady Medford looked more exhausted than Elizabeth could ever remember. Of course, it was the gray hour before dawn by the time they arrived, but Elizabeth’s mother displayed the exhaustion of ages, not merely a few missed hours of sleep.

Elizabeth decided there was no point in exchanging further pleasantries.

“Mother, tonight I have heard a tale my mind has difficulty grasping.”

Her mother nodded. “I imagine you have. It was bound to come out eventually, once you married the duke.”

“It’s true then? About father?”

Lady Medford kept her eyes on Alex. At his slight nod, she told her daughter, “It’s true your father’s death was caused by no carriage accident. It is also true he was killed by your husband. But the duke is not to blame.”

“Father threatened him?”

Lady Medford’s shoulders sagged, her voice lost strength. “He should never have gone to the party that night. And
I
should never have let him stay, once I saw him there. At the very least I should have stayed by his side, not let him imbibe so much. But that was not the nature of our relationship. We each went our own way, as we usually did, though we’d agreed to return home together later.”

“And father…”

“Yes, he threatened His Grace. I’m sure if James hadn’t been foxed, he’d have thought better of his actions. I did not know how desperate his—our—circumstances were until that moment.”

“How is that possible?” Elizabeth was aware of Alex standing solidly by her side. For some reason she had the impression he was there to support her, rather than to draw satisfaction as her mother confirmed his story.

Lady Medford wrung her hands. “I knew he enjoyed gaming—sometimes too much. I never wanted to know more than that. Your uncle George is not a kind man, but he got one thing right. I thought I’d married up when I married James. Well, I had, of course, for James was titled. And in the beginning, we were well off. I just kept living that way—I never thought to suspect him, to question his habits. I never knew until too late.”

Acceptance seeped through Elizabeth. And forgiveness. “I understand, Mother. I do. He was so easygoing, so carefree.”

Alex finally spoke. “He fooled me as well. I would never have bet with him otherwise.”

Elizabeth looked between them and saw resignation, acceptance.

“I was searching for James, to tell him I wanted to leave, when I heard his voice outdoors. I came to the door and saw—” Lady Medford wrung her hands. “I was terrified. I called to him, begged him to stop…He gave no indication he heard me. Maybe he didn’t. I should have done more…I should have done
something
…I was scared…”

“And you had no weapon,” Alex reminded her gently.

“No.”

“So you saw what happened—all of it?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes.”

“And you agreed to cover everything up. To make it look as though father died in a carriage accident.”

“Yes,” her mother answered. “It’s never a pretty thing when one of the nobility dies under shameful circumstances. Especially when the cause of death is a gunshot. I could have pressed charges, and your duke could have done likewise. I didn’t know the full extent of our family’s problems until later, but I did know that an investigation into James’s death was likely to create an even greater scandal.

“Alex was quick-thinking to devise the plan he did. It helped us avoid considerable shame, and I could hardly begrudge the duke the fact that it saved him from charges as well—I’d seen how James threatened him. All I asked was that Alex make me a promise: that after that night, after everything was covered up, he would never contact our family again. I wanted to forget.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, taking in this information. Then another thought occurred to her. “Afterward, when I was looking for suitors, and you told me you prefer I stay away from Alex…this was why, wasn’t it?”

Lady Medford nodded. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Your Grace. But at the time your interest in Elizabeth did not seem serious, and we were rather desperately hoping to find her a solid match. And, I thought that the less she was involved with you, the less likely the past would come unburied.”

“I see,” Alex said. He took Elizabeth’s hand.

“Of course, months later, when you arrived to ask for Elizabeth’s hand, I considered that promise void. You two were clearly suited for one another.”

Elizabeth recalled the unspoken exchange she’d seen between Alex and her mother on that occasion. It made sense now.

The older woman lifted both hands in appeal and spoke to the duke. “I can understand why it was necessary Elizabeth know the truth now, for deception strains a marriage. But it would comfort me somewhat if I knew the story would spread no further. If not for my own reputation, then for that of my other daughter.”

“Yes, of course,” Elizabeth said softly, feeling some sympathy for her mother for the first time in many months. “I’d not have father’s name smeared further by the gossips, so long as my husband’s reputation also remains clear. I can find Fuston and explain to him that he misunderstood. I don’t believe he has any desire to gossip—he only feared for my well-being.”

“In fact, he’s been well paid
not
to gossip,” her husband dryly put in. “Though I can forgive him his attempt to warn my wife.” He moved his hand, letting it rest protectively on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

Warmth seeped through her at his touch. It was all she could do not to turn to him and bask in his affection. Yes, this man had fired the shot that ended her father’s life. But she understood now that he’d had no choice. She also understood that, long before that evening, her father had lost control, lost himself, in desperation and misery over a habit that had gotten the better of him.

“Still, you should have told me,” she said to both her husband and her mother. “Perhaps not right away, but long before now. Before Alex and I were married. I’m not a child. I deserved to know. Especially as my life was to be so affected. These past weeks…” her voice broke as she thought of how strained their relationship had been of late.

“I know. And I am sorry,” Alex told her once again. “If I’d had the faintest inkling what had you so upset, I would have—even if it meant driving you away for good. I wanted to protect you, and, I admit, I feared that, accident or not, mine was too great an offense to be forgiven.”

“Can you forgive me?” the baroness asked.

Elizabeth faced her mother. Her husband she was prepared to forgive, but not her mother. She voiced her remaining objection with one word.

“Harold.”

The baroness looked away. “I didn’t realize how he treated you,” she said quietly. “I thought you were simply being willful. You were, after all, always a willful child. We did need to find you a husband, and as you’d never shown great proclivity for wringing marriage offers before…” she trailed off.

“I’d never had urgent need before,” Elizabeth reminded her. It was foolish to still feel hurt that her mother hadn’t believed her capable of success on the marriage mart. After all, she’d had offers early on, before her father’s death, and the man standing beside her as husband was proof she had what it took to capture the attention of the ton’s most desirable catch.

Lady Medford sighed. “From where I stood it looked like you wanted to give up a solid offer from Wetherby in order to gamble on another that might or might not appear,” she said. “And by then I’d had enough of gambling.”

Elizabeth nodded, conceding that point.

“Still, no mother wishes to see her daughter beaten. Harold and your uncle concocted the plan to remove you to the country without my knowledge. Once George told me, I should have done something. But I convinced myself that if you two were left without interference, you might come to terms. It was a last hope, for by that time you’d destroyed your other chances through your own reckless behavior.”

Elizabeth said nothing.

Her mother sighed again, and as the air left her body she seemed to shrink. Elizabeth realized for the first time how small a woman she was.

Had she ever really wielded the tyrannical might Elizabeth remembered, or had that been merely a figment of her own youth and imagination? Of her own guilt over not living up to expectations?

“I wasn’t without my reasons, but I can see now I should have watched more closely,” her mother finally said. “I could have listened when you told me of your dislike of Wetherby. I could have asked more questions. If I’d known what was actually happening, Eliza-beth, I would have called a stop to it.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. This was the best she was likely to get from her mother. They might never see eye to eye, but neither did she want to live with permanent resentment. She opened her eyes again.

“I do forgive you,” she slowly said.

Some of the worn expression seemed to lift from the baroness’s features. And then, miraculously, she did for once exactly as Elizabeth hoped she would.

She curtsied and retreated quietly, leaving the married couple alone.

“But can you forgive me?” Alex asked, turning her to face him fully. “I know it is still a lot to ask.”

The dimly lit room cast shadows over his face, intensifying his expression. Elizabeth reached up to trace the outline of his jaw.

God, how she loved this man.

“I can’t undo the past, but I do want to share the future with you. No more secrets,” Alex continued.

Elizabeth cut him off by pressing a finger against his lips. “Just hold me.”

She took a deep breath as his arms came around her, enfolding her, protecting her. His chin came to rest atop her head. She inhaled his scent like a drowning man starved for oxygen. It had been so long.

They stood that way until Elizabeth’s legs felt numb, but still she didn’t want to move. Finally she shifted slightly, just enough to encourage blood flow to her limbs.

“Elizabeth?”

“Mmm?” She lifted her head slightly, unwilling to let him go.

“I want to take you home.”

“Mmm.” She held him closer, in complete agreement.

“But I want to make love to you first.”

She grinned happily. “I believe I still have a room here.”

“Excellent.”

When Charity awoke, rays of sun peeked through the curtains. As was her habit, she sprang from bed, went to the window, and flung them open to greet the day.

This morning she had to shield her eyes, as sunlight bounced brilliantly off an emblazoned, black-lacquered carriage standing in the drive. She looked again, and saw it bore the Beaufort crest.

Elizabeth! When had she arrived? Charity had missed her sister terribly—especially since, at their last visit, she’d sensed Elizabeth wasn’t entirely happy in her new marriage.

Oh, dear. Could that be why she’d arrived unannounced, in the middle of the night?

Charity flew down the hall to her sister’s room, ready to share comfort and confidences as only sisters can do.

She raised her hand to knock. A muffled giggle made her pause. It was followed by a low growl. Another giggle and then what sounded like—Charity’s cheeks heated—a moan of pleasure.

Charity slowly backed away, a smile spreading across her face.

Unless she was very much mistaken, her sister and the handsome duke were perfectly in accord now, and quite possibly in the process of creating the duke’s heir.

Charity grinned and skipped back to her own room. She would enjoy being an aunt.