Nothing But Scandal (6 page)

Alex rubbed his temples and stared at the letter on the desk. Upon returning from the garden, he’d found a pile of correspondence waiting for him. His secretary had thoughtfully gathered it for delivery to the Grumsby estate, knowing his master was not one to let business linger.

Alex momentarily wished the secretary was slack in his duties, for he had no desire to see this particular letter.

Even after death, the Baron Medford continued to be a thorn in his side.

He was well aware the man had died still owing him a considerable debt. In fact, this letter didn’t address the half of it—most “gentleman’s debts” were never recorded. Alex was mildly surprised to learn the scoundrel had kept track at all. Now, Medford’s solicitor had sent a letter explaining the status of the estate after his death. To put it succinctly, there was no estate.

Alex tore the letter in two. Disgusting. Men in Medford’s situation had no business gambling. He’d frittered away a respectable, if not especially large, fortune on “investments” that amounted to little more than outright gambling, then worsened the matter with his actual gaming.

Trying to recover the funds would be futile. At this point, Alex would be content simply never to be reminded again of his connection to Lord Medford.

Medford’s daughter, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.

Elizabeth baffled him. When he’d offered her the position of mistress, he’d done so, at least in part, just to see her reaction. And she’d surprised him. He’d had her pegged as a schemer, but what was she after? One minute she melted passionately in his arms, the next, primly informed him she preferred a respectable life of near-poverty to the pampering she would receive under his protection. Why?

That wild mane of red hair belonged spread across a pillow—preferably his—not tucked up under a governess’s cap. He’d lost precious hours of sleep imagining where that kiss could have led.

But he’d made a promise to dissociate himself from any further involvement with anyone bearing the name of Medford. That promise had driven him to turn down Elizabeth’s offer that morning in Hyde Park.

Now that he knew her better, it was a promise he was seriously coming to regret.

Alex poured himself a brandy. Hell, what was one more broken promise after a lifetime of sins?

If anything, he was beginning to think Lord Medford, in a weird and twisted way, had been onto something when he’d tried to thrust Alex and Elizabeth together.

A gruff, cynical laugh escaped him. He
must
be losing it, if he was beginning to trust Lord Medford’s judgment. He tossed the brandy back, savored the slow burn as he swallowed.

He’d once considered Medford a close acquaintance, perhaps even a friend. But that was before he’d learned the man’s true nature.

They’d gambled together, with Alex assuming the baron could cover his mounting losses. Eventually, Alex had mentioned something about payment, not liking to leave things lingering too long. Medford had stalled, which had tipped off Alex that all was not as it seemed. Finally, the man had approached him, with an apology and a proposal so vile, Alex still had trouble believing it.

Lord Medford had met Alex at White’s that evening, then waited until Alex’s fellow card players had all abandoned the table and the servants were out of earshot.

“This is a hard thing for a man to say,” Medford had muttered, not meeting Alex’s eye, “but I simply can’t cover those debts right now. It’s a bad time.” He laid down his cards.

Alex briefly felt sorry for the older man. Irritated, certainly, but also sympathetic, as he assumed the problem was temporary. “How long do you need?”

“Well, that’s the problem. I simply can’t say.” He looked up. “But I thought perhaps there was another way we could even the score.”

“I’m listening.”

“You may have my eldest daughter in marriage.”

“What!” Alex shook his head to clear his ears.

“I thought if we joined families, then the debt wouldn’t matter. And Elizabeth is an attractive girl.”

“See here, Medford, your thinking is awry.” Alex forced the words through a clenched jaw. “For one, the days of the man paying a bride-price are over. They were over centuries ago. But that is what you’re essentially asking me to do. Generally, it works the other way around. Women come
with
a dowry, which makes them more attractive to a man.” Alex didn’t need any woman’s dowry, but that didn’t change the principle of the matter.

“But Elizabeth is special,” Medford said. And Alex hated the desperation in his voice.

“I don’t even know the chit!” Not only did he not know her, he had no intention of marrying
anyone
in the near future.

“Does that matter for a ton marriage?”

“Medford, you disgust me. You’re trying to turn your losses into profit. Just think—you’d be out of debt, you’d have an unwed daughter off your hands, and, to top it all off, you’d have an alliance with one of the premier families in England. Exactly
how
do you see this as a way to, as you put it, ‘even the score’?”

Medford twisted a playing card in his hands and remained silent.

“Now, perhaps if she were willing to work off your debt in other ways…” He spoke with deliberate crudeness, wanting to see Medford, weasel that he was, squirm a bit. But though Alex was no stranger to debauchery, he had no intention of dragging an innocent girl into this matter.

“Now see here,” Medford bleakly replied, his face pale, “Elizabeth is a respectable girl. She ought to marry. You, Your Grace, must be thinking of an heir.”

Unbelievable what the man thought he could get away with. There was no way Alex was marrying a woman he’d never met. “That’s not your concern.”

“No.” The baron swallowed. “I’m sorry.” He began muttering to himself.

Alex picked out a few phrases, including “wouldn’t be the end of the world,” “figured it would come to this,” and “after it was said and done, could still marry her off to an older man who didn’t mind a chit with a bit of experience.”

Alex turned away. He knew some families viewed their daughters as a liability, worth only the social advancement they might gain from marriage, but he certainly didn’t want to hear this man say so aloud.

“I suppose we could consider that option,” Medford said finally, “if Elizabeth were willing, and if we could somehow keep her mother from knowing—”

“No,” Alex said shortly. “Forget I said anything. It’s both preposterous and vile. Just pay me when you have the funds.”

Alex had then left quickly, anxious to remove the baron from his sight. Many nobles ran short of funds occasionally, but there were far more genteel ways to handle it. Alex had wanted only to make the man squirm until he agreed to pay up—and with
money,
not with his eldest child. This man was a gambler, a schemer, and, judging from what he’d been about to agree to, a panderer. Disgusting.

What galled Alex the most was how he’d misjudged the man. Alex prided himself on his ability to tell a man’s character, but here he’d been dead wrong. He’d never knowingly gambled with a man who could not afford to lose. It kept things civil. But the baron’s easy demeanor, so unlike the hollow-eyed, drawn faces of others who were desperate, had fooled him enough that he’d not thought it necessary to look any deeper—at least until that last night. The man had possessed extraordinary skill at deception.

Alex moved to a more exclusive gaming club, and his contact with Medford had mercifully been cut off. A peaceful eight months had gone by, and though Alex had not been repaid, he’d believed he was rid of the scoundrel.

That is, until one wretched night in October…

Alex shook himself from his reverie. The circumstances surrounding the baron’s death didn’t bear thinking about.

Suffice it to say he’d made mistakes that could never be repaid, and certainly not by seducing the dead man’s daughter.

Alex shoved the torn remnants of the solicitor’s letter into his wastebasket and stood, noticing the sun sat somewhat lower in the sky than when he’d begun sorting his correspondence. He tiredly rubbed the back of his neck.

Why, of all the families in England, did the redheaded minx have to come from
that
one?

He could simply not show up tomorrow for the country drive he’d promised her. That would cut things off cleanly. But then he’d never know whether
she’d
had the guts to show up. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to live with the wondering.

So if she did show up, he’d find a way to live with the guilt.

By two o’clock the following afternoon, Elizabeth was a wreck. A million times she’d promised herself she would not, would
not
set foot in the duke’s carriage. A million times she’d cursed herself for a fool. A million times she’d checked the clock in the hall, her heart beating faster the closer the designated hour drew.

Finally, her good sense admitted defeat. If she didn’t meet the duke today, she would spend the rest of her life wondering what she’d given up.

At first she’d dressed in her usual governess’s attire, thinking it might help quell the duke’s ardor. Or her own. But then, Alex had to know she owned other gowns, and would think her ridiculous for wearing her uniform. And in front of Alex Bainbridge, she did
not
want to appear ridiculous.

To be completely honest, she also wasn’t really sure she wanted her ardor quelled.

But what did one wear for such an assignation? Her nicest things had been left behind, either at home or at Beatrice’s house, and there was no time to retrieve them. Nor did she wish Alex to think she was pretending to a social rank she no longer possessed.

So she’d chosen a simple but flattering gown of muslin. It once had been pale yellow, but she’d had it dyed a muted gray as a compromise between her need to mourn her father and her need to be charming in Society. Of course, she’d since dispensed with both those needs, but the frock was still a favorite.

She’d scraped her hair into its usual bun, then, remembering what Alex had said in the library about leaving it loose—but not wanting him to think she’d paid too much heed—she softened the effect by loosening the knot and letting a few tendrils curl about her face.

As a result of all this double-guessing, Elizabeth was running late. It would never do for a governess to keep a duke waiting, no matter the nature of their relationship, so she thrust her feet into her shoes, glanced one last time in the looking glass, and flew down the stairs.

Alex was meeting her at the end of the drive, at the edge of the estate. She hoped that anyone seeing her leave the house would simply think she’d gone for a walk on her afternoon off.

The carriage waiting at the end of the drive was not Alex’s usual phaeton, but a plain, discrete black conveyance. As he had promised, there was no ducal crest emblazoned on the side, and the driver wore no recognizable livery.

Elizabeth smiled as she approached. Even if anyone saw her enter, they would not know whose carriage it was. She appreciated his thoughtfulness. He might be used to tongues wagging at his every move, but her current position depended on those same tongues remaining still.

The driver helped her into the coach, then closed the door behind her, nodding politely.

Alex watched Elizabeth climb inside, feeling inordinately satisfied that she hadn’t backed out of their meeting. That, in itself, told him all he needed to know.

He was well aware that this outing, in addition to keeping her out of the public eye, had the side benefit of allowing for considerable intimacy. As he watched her settle into the seat opposite him, he was grateful indeed for that side benefit.

Their kiss in the library had only whetted his appetite. He’d intended to kiss her, certainly, but he’d had no idea of the overpowering need her response would evoke in him. A need he’d barely even recognized until she’d pulled away and his head had cleared. A need that had had him on the verge of losing control.

A need that later had him breaking both his vow to avoid anyone bearing the Medford name and his vow to lead a less debauched life. If reforming meant he would never touch her again, never taste her, it simply wasn’t worth it.

She sat primly across from him now, hands folded neatly. He intended to remedy that, he thought, envisioning her in his lap.

“Elizabeth, I am so pleased you could join me,” he greeted her politely. She might be an outcast of the nobility, but she was still a gently bred young woman. That thought gave him pause, as he suddenly realized that if he truly cared about such things, he wouldn’t have invited her on this outing at all.

Nor, if she were adamant about such rules, would she have accepted.

“It was kind of you to offer, Your Grace.”

The carriage gave a small lurch as the driver pulled away. Alex had instructed him to tour the countryside randomly, with no particular destination. The driver, a well-trained servant who knew who lined his pockets, had asked no questions.

Alex took a moment to study his prey. In spite of her prim posture, Elizabeth looked flushed and alluring, her magnificent hair threatening to escape its confines. Before the drive was over, he would ensure it did. Her gown was a bit too plain for his taste, but he was far more interested in the soft skin beneath it anyway.

Elizabeth was becoming his obsession.

He tried to think of some sort of light conversation to put her at ease. The truth was, they had little in common, and he didn’t think that whispered descriptions of the places he’d like to touch her could be considered light conversation. And he certainly hoped his attentions
wouldn’t
put her at ease.

“How fare my niece and nephew?” he finally asked.

She gave him an odd look, but answered. “Quite well. They’re charming children. Henry has begun his study of mathematics and is progressing splendidly.”

“Good,” Alex answered automatically.

He lapsed into silence. Elizabeth did the same, though tension seemed to hang in the space between them. She looked away, but a moment later, he caught her sneaking a glance at him. She flushed.

“It’s, er, a lovely day to view the countryside,” she offered, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle in her skirt.

Alex leaned forward and drew the curtains. His knee brushed hers, eliciting from her a startled “Oh!”

“I find the view inside far more alluring,” he murmured.

To his surprise, she met his eyes as she responded, “I confess I, too, am enamored of the view in here.” Her voice was scarce more than a whisper, but she didn’t look away.

He’d admired her daring, and her honesty, from the time they’d first danced at the Peasleys’ ball. Now he admired her more. She was obviously nervous, but she was no shrinking maiden. She knew why she was here, and he respected her for that. Did he imagine it, or did her eyes actually rove his form?

His body responded as though her hands, and not her eyes, stroked him.

“It is dim in here. Perhaps if I sat closer, so as to ease the strain on your eyes,” he teased as he smoothly shifted to the seat beside her.

He saw her swallow, hard, but he was not about to let her off so easily. Instead he bent his head to trace kisses along the line of her neck. She sat very still, as though uncertain how far she could carry her part in the intimate game they played.

Though he knew her to be bold, Alex realized she probably had little experience with intimate matters—after all, even when she’d asked him to ruin her, she’d seemed vague on exactly how one accomplished such things.

Well, he could teach her. If she was willing to learn. He retraced the line of her neck, noting with pleasure that she inclined her head ever so slightly to provide him greater access. He nibbled her earlobe, then dipped his tongue to explore its sensitive recesses.

Her hands fisted in her skirts and a tiny sound escaped the back of her throat. Yes, Alex thought hazily, she would be a willing student. His lips left her ear and began a path aimed at the lush curve of her mouth. She turned her head and met him halfway, and he gave a grunt of pure male satisfaction as he captured her lips in a hungry kiss.

He ceased planning, calculating, as her willing response drove such thoughts from his mind. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as she pressed toward him, and he fisted his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck to hold her there, stroking her lips with his, over and over, until they parted beneath the onslaught of his desire.

He tasted her, gently, and she moaned at the touch of his tongue to hers. He dipped in again, and again, exploring her fully now, telling her without words of the more intimate things he had in mind.

Suddenly she broke the heady kiss to trail smaller ones along his jaw, as he’d done earlier to her. Alex groaned at the loss but tilted his head, taking pleasure in the knowledge that she wished to touch him. His body was hammering in needy desire, unsatisfied by the chaste kisses to his jaw. Finally, when he could stand the pleasurable torture no more, he turned his head to claim her lips once more, hungry now. He delved her mouth fully, his tongue driving the kiss to new, more intimate heights as he tipped her back onto the cushioned squabs. His hands sought her bodice, molding and cupping her breasts.

Someone moaned in desire, he couldn’t be sure whom. He abandoned her mouth in order to kiss the creamy swells above her bodice, his hands working to free her from what seemed an interminable amount of clothing. Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, encouraging him and begging him to hurry, to fill the need consuming them both.

Just as he’d nearly accomplished the task, the carriage gave a great lurch, breaking their embrace and tumbling the two of them to the floor.

The conveyance tipped precariously to one side, and Elizabeth’s eyes widened in alarm. They both braced themselves, but with a final shudder, the carriage righted itself and stilled, coming to rest at an awkward angle.

Alex released his grip on the back of the bench and blew out a breath. He worked the latch and threw open the door, muttering, “What the hell?”

An even more colorful stream of invectives could be heard coming from the driver outside.

Alex stepped down just as the driver threw a stone at a quickly retreating dog. “Bloody mongrel!”

“Dog ran between the wheels?”

The man startled at his master’s presence, then visibly tried to compose himself. “A thousand pardons, Your Grace. The team sidestepped to avoid the creature, and drove us into a rut. My fault. Afraid the afternoon sun, and the open road…I should’ve been more alert. Wheel’s bent.”

Alex examined the wheel, which was indeed bent. He raised his eyes to find Elizabeth standing next to him, still delightfully mussed from their kisses.

“How do you feel about a nice long walk?” he asked regretfully.

Marian Grumsby was pleased her brother had extended his visit. He’d claimed he enjoyed the open space, the peace of the country life. She’d happily welcomed him to stay as long as he liked. But she was not a fool.

Alex never stayed outside the city for long. There were too few entertainments—particularly those of the licentious variety.

Then again, her brother had not been himself for about eight months now. And the steady stream of gossip about his debauchery had nearly dried up. Marian didn’t know if that was cause for concern or celebration.

Oh, the wit and urbane charm was still there, but he was moody and distracted. Restless. And she wanted to know why.

She knew better than to ask directly. Even as a child Alex had been a private person, more so as an adult. She’d seen him in deep conversation with her husband a few times during this visit, but if Brian had learned anything of interest, he was keeping mum—and that was driving her mad.

She’d replayed the last eight months in her mind, but she was too removed from her brother’s life to guess what would have affected him so. A business venture gone bad? A woman? Something was bothering him, but what?

Unfortunately, her hopes for discovering his reasons were thwarted by his announcement at dinner Sunday night.

“I’ve decided to return to London tomorrow.”

Marian set down her wineglass. “Have we finally bored you, then?”

“Of course not. But I’ve neglected matters of business and estate too long.”

“It’s barely been two weeks,” she teased. “Surely your mansions are not tumbling to the ground already.”

He smiled back, though the expression held a hard edge that made Marian wonder, not for the first time, if her brother had ever known true happiness.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Alex told her. “A welcome respite from the city.”

She felt him withdrawing, slipping away again, and she mourned the loss of the easy friendship they’d had as children. Would she ever regain it? “At least promise me you won’t go so long between visits next time.”

“You have my word. Henry and Clara are delightful, and I’ve a mind to ride Brian’s new stallion again, once it’s better trained.”

She accepted his answer gracefully, realizing her brother was unlikely to bare the contents of his soul over dinner.

When she’d finished eating, she excused herself to tell the children a story and tuck them into bed. The nurse would have seen to it they were fed and bathed, but Marian cherished those last few moments each night, when they snuggled sleepily under the covers and she smoothed their brows. Only when she and Brian were traveling or attending an engagement did she relinquish those coveted chores of motherhood.

Alex watched his sister go, wondering if he was even capable of the kind of love she obviously held for her family.

Brian signaled a servant for port and cigars.

When the two men were alone, Brian swirled his port, intently studying the dark liquid.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” he said meaningfully.

“Marian?” Alex echoed. Revulsion flooded him. She was his
sister
.

Brian laughed. “Of course not—though you should have seen your face just now. I know your soul is black, Alex, but if I thought for one moment
that
were the case, you wouldn’t be here.” He selected a cigar. “Unless I invited you here to kill you with my bare hands. No, I was referring to our pretty young governess.”

Alex, a longtime card player, knew when to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t deny the accusation—Brian was no fool. Instead, mirroring his brother-in-law’s sudden fascination with his glass, he traced the rim of his own, coolly meeting Brian’s gaze as though waiting for him to finish.

The men passed a minute in silence. Brian lit his cigar, took a few experimental puffs.