Nothing But Scandal

by Allegra Gray

  Now it was midmorning, and the two women relaxed in the small salon of Bea’s town house while they batted about ideas for Elizabeth’s future.

  “It isn’t just that. My mother’s brother, Uncle George, is head of the family now. He’s insisting he can’t support all of us, and he’s going to marry me off to my single remaining prospect—Harold Wetherby.”

  “Wetherby.” Bea wrinkled her nose, cocked her head in thought. “I don’t know him.”

  “Not personally. He’s some sort of remote cousin of my mother’s. He doesn’t move in the higher circles. But I’ve told you about him, Bea.”

  Slowly, Bea’s eyes widened with understanding. “That Wetherby? The one from that picnic, the one who—”

  “The same.”

  “No,” Bea said weakly, reaching for her tea and taking a fortifying sip.

  “I’m not going back. I’d sooner work for a living.”

  “Doing what?”

  “That’s the problem. I thought maybe I could be a seamstress.”

  “A seamstress?” Bea looked doubtful.

  “I’m good with a needle,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes, but E., the best modistes will want references, and you’ll have none. You wouldn’t want to work for the sort that would hire you without a reference.” Bea poured a fresh cup of tea for each of them and offered Elizabeth a plate of biscuits.

  The lack of references was a dilemma Elizabeth hadn’t anticipated. “What do you suggest? There are few ways a woman can earn a living and remain anonymous.”

  “Sadly true. I know a woman who earns her living writing books…”

  “I’ve no head for that, Bea. And, besides, it would take too long. I need something soon.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. It’s no hardship.”

  “I know, and I do thank you for it. I don’t know where I’d have gone if not here. But I can’t stay in hiding forever, and I’d just as soon move on. Whatever work I find, it must be somewhere my uncle won’t think to look for me.”

  Leaving the safe haven of Bea’s house would be difficult, especially knowing that whatever life held for her next, it was unlikely to even remotely resemble the life she’d known before her father died. What line of work was appropriate for the runaway daughter of a disgraced, deceased baron?

  “I could be a governess,” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Truly? A governess?” Bea made a face. Her own marriage had not been fruitful. “Caring for someone else’s children? What if they’re spoiled or unruly?”

  “Oh, Bea. I love children.”

  “But E., do you think you’ve the disposition for being a governess? It’s just, you’re a bit headstrong—though I love you for it—and I think that sort of thing is frowned upon in governesses.”

  “I’m sure I can overcome that. I haven’t the luxury of getting into scrapes anymore,” Elizabeth replied. “But I would probably have the same problem in getting references.”

  “Very likely. If a seamstress must have references, imagine what—wait! I know just the person who might take you on. She may recognize you, but she’s a kind soul, and I overheard someone at a tea the other day saying she was looking to hire a governess. She lives in the country, so you’re less likely to be seen.”

  “Who?”

  “The Viscountess Grumsby.”

  “Grumsby, Grumsby…” Elizabeth thought aloud, trying to place the name. “The Duke of Beaufort’s sister. Alex Bainbridge’s sister. I couldn’t possibly!”

  “E., I know you had a tendre for him, but now that nothing’s come of that, I fail to see the problem.”

  “It isn’t just that.” Miserably, Elizabeth relayed the details of her most recent encounter with the duke.

  “My.” Bea took another fortifying sip of tea, then grinned. “That was daring. Did I say before that you were a bit headstrong? I believe I misspoke. You’re not a bit headstrong, you are entirely so!”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks heated, but she smiled back.

  “Though, really, you’re in the same place now as you would have been if he’d agreed,” Bea continued. “A bit uncomfortable if he happens to visit, of course, but no reason you can’t stay mostly out of sight.”

  True. Only, if he had agreed, Elizabeth thought, she’d have been able to live out her dreams before descending to the lower rungs of Society’s ladder.

  “At any rate,” Bea said, “it’s worth a try. As I said, Lady Grumsby lives in the country most of the time, which will protect you from most prying eyes.”

  “But what if Alex has told her about me?”

  “Unlikely. If he wasn’t willing to have his name bandied about with yours in scandal, why would he say anything?” Bea airily waved a hand. “He’s probably forgotten it entirely.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t so sure about that, but as she could think of no better option, and the thought of leaving town for a while held a certain appeal, she agreed to the plan.

  Within hours, Beatrice sent a message to Lady Grumsby. In the letter Bea gave Elizabeth her full endorsement for the position, though, as she confided, “I may not be the best of references, having never hired a governess myself.”

  Since it was possible Lady Grumsby would recognize her anyway, Elizabeth agreed with Bea’s recommendation that she not use a false name. She just prayed her mother wouldn’t find out. Lady Medford took her noble status quite seriously.

  The next few days were spent anxiously awaiting a response. As she could hardly stroll about the streets of London without being seen, Elizabeth kept to the house. Bea had more freedom, and, with Charity’s help, managed to retrieve two of Elizabeth’s plainest frocks from the Medford home. They’d already been dyed gray for the half-mourning period following her father’s death.

  “If you’re to work as a governess, you must look the part,” Bea said as she helped remove the white lace that gave the gowns their only fashionable touch. “Word of your disappearance hasn’t yet leaked to the ton. Your sister tells me the family’s keeping it a secret, hoping to find you first and make the whole matter go away. The scandal would be huge. I, of course, swore I knew nothing. But, E., are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

  Elizabeth’s most recent encounter with Harold leapt to mind. Unconsciously she touched the now-fading bruises below her collarbone. “Definitely.”

  Bea patted her arm. “As long as you’re sure.”

  Finally the good news came that Lady Grumsby was indeed interested in interviewing Miss Medford. Bea helped her friend pack, and Elizabeth purchased a seat on a traveling coach departing the following morning. No more private carriages in her future.

  The coach was slow and bumpy, and at one particularly steep hill, the driver asked the passengers to walk alongside the vehicle, easing the burden on the team of horses. Never before had Elizabeth traveled like this—no companion, no chaperone, and no conveyance of her own.

  She was dusty and exhausted by late afternoon, when they stopped at a coaching inn. Thankfully, the Grumsbys had sent one of their servants with a wagon to convey her the remaining distance, for spending the night alone at the inn—even if she’d acquired a private room—was too daunting a prospect.

  In spite of the early start, it was nearing dark by the time they drew near Garden Home, the estate belonging to the Duke of Beaufort’s sister and her husband. Given the innocuous name, Elizabeth had been expecting a pleasant but modest estate. Instead, the wagon rolled past vast manicured lawns, and finally drew near a sprawling mansion that seemed a conglomeration of every architectural style England had known in the past four hundred years. Oddly, the effect was intriguing, softened by the profusion of spring blooms that sprouted from numerous well-tended flowerbeds.

  The servant Elizabeth rode with had a delivery of milk and butter for the kitchens, and he drew the cart around back. She thanked him for his trouble, then climbed down slowly.

  If this didn’t work, she had no alternate plan.

  Th
e matter of the viscountess’s relationship to Alex Bainbridge was still discomforting, but Elizabeth had resolved—assuming she was offered the position—to simply stay away from any gatherings he was likely to attend.

  With trepidation, Elizabeth knocked at the rear entrance to Viscount Grumsby’s manor.

  A maid came to the door and looked Elizabeth up and down. “Yes?”

  “I’m here to interview for the position of governess.”

  The maid modified her facial expression to one of greater respect. “Yes, mum. Lady Grumsby expects you’ll be tired from the travel. I’m to show you to a room, and you’ll interview first thing in the morn. Just this way.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip but followed the maid down a corridor, unused to being treated so casually by the help. She’d best get used to it, though, for a governess’s station, while above that of a maid’s, was far lower than that to which she was accustomed.

  The maid directed Elizabeth to a small but comfortable room, and after leaving briefly, returned with warm water for washing, followed by a dinner tray. Elizabeth ate, grateful her hosts seemed to have thought of everything. Still, she spent a restless night, wondering what she would do if this latest plan failed.

  Elizabeth woke early and was fully dressed—not to mention anxious—by the time the maid reappeared at her door. After a quick breakfast, she was led back to the main hall.

  The maid indicated a small, padded bench against one of the walls near a door that led, presumably, to a salon. “Wait just here.”

  Elizabeth sat, imagining how best to present her limited qualifications when she was called in.

  The maid disappeared through the doorway and reappeared moments later. “Lady Grumsby will see you now.”

  Elizabeth slowly let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and entered the salon, a pleasant room decorated in shades of ivory and pale blue. A lovely brunette, a few years her senior, sat on the edge of a delicate chair near a writing desk. Her physical appearance made her relationship to her ducal brother immediately clear.

  Mindful of her new social status, Elizabeth sank into a curtsy. “My lady. I had not realized I would be interviewing with the lady of the house.”

  “My children are important to me. Finding a governess for them is not a task I deem appropriate to entrust to just anyone.”

  Elizabeth smiled, approving of the woman’s sentiment.

  “And you are Miss Medford?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. She prayed the name Medford was common enough that the viscountess would not think to associate her, a girl applying for the position of governess, with the baron’s daughter of the same name. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Right. Well, Miss Medford, I would not normally interview someone without references, but Lady Pullington did suggest I speak with you, so I suppose that’s a reference of sorts. And it is the Season, when most governesses have already hired on to other families, so I am considering all applicants. My last governess left rather suddenly, to care for an ailing relative. You may sit.” She gestured to a small chair, cushioned in pale yellow. “Please tell me of your qualifications.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, determined to bluff her way through this, when a sudden frown creased the viscountess’s forehead.

  “Wait a moment. You said your name was Medford? You’re no relation to—no, you couldn’t be. My neighbor was filling me in on all that’s happened so far in the Season and the name Medford came up, and I just thought…and your red hair…”

  Elizabeth was caught. She shifted uncomfortably on the small chair. However daring she’d learned to be, she wasn’t an outright liar. “Yes, my lady. I am Lord Medford’s daughter.”

  “No! But what are you doing applying as a governess?” Lady Grumsby’s eyes reflected embarrassment for them both.

  “It’s rather a long story. Please, my lady, I assure you I am sincere in this application. My circumstances are no longer what they were. I need this position, and I love children. I am willing to work hard, to care for them and teach them as much as I know.” Passion filled her voice as she pled with the woman not to turn her out. This was her last, best hope.

  Viscountess Grumsby folded her hands and gave Elizabeth a long look. “Have you been compromised?”

  “No, my lady. But my family can no longer support two unwed daughters, and I’ve no wish to be a burden, nor do I have any suitable opportunity to wed.” Elizabeth hoped the viscountess would not pry further, for to explain that she’d refused her family’s choice of suitor and left home would not reflect well on her character, no matter how abusive that suitor might be. Better to let Lady Grumsby think she’d been an utter failure in the marriage mart.

  “I see. I am sorry to hear of your family’s misfortune.” Lady Grumsby’s expression gentled, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “You understand the responsibilities of a governess? ’Tis hardly the life you are used to.”

  “Yes, my lady. I understand.”

  “Well, if you were raised in Society, then I cannot fault your education. My children are young yet, but I do wish them exposed to good morals and learning.”

  “Mine was most adequate, my lady.”

  “I will grant you the position on a trial basis. If, after a period of three months, I, and the children, find you suitable, you may stay on.”

  Elizabeth smiled genuinely. “Thank you, my lady. This means a lot to me. I shall not disappoint you.”

  “Lovely. I shall be most glad of your assistance with the children, for I am expecting guests in a fortnight. A small house party during my brother’s visit.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach flipped, but she maintained a pleasant smile. Alex Bainbridge was coming. The man before whom she’d utterly humiliated herself.

  The man who could have her fired with the merest word.

  So much for a peaceful existence in the country. It appeared she would be put to the test immediately.

  Alex spurred his mount across the final stretch of open field. The stallion tossed its head, then flexed its muscles beneath him as it responded to the command. Alex reveled in the crisp air rushing through his hair. His eyes teared at the corners as the horse gained speed, flying over the acres of the Grumsby estate.

  He could think of nothing he’d rather be doing on this perfect May morning. He’d purchased that stallion at the Derringworth stables on behalf of his brother-in-law, Brian Grumsby. Normally, he’d have examined the animal thoroughly before making an offer, but he’d been too irritated by that sorry lout Wetherby to bother negotiating.

  Brian hadn’t balked at the price, but knowing Alex was the better horseman, had merely asked him to put the animal through its paces, once it had been delivered, to evaluate whether the amount had been fair. Alex welcomed the task, and the excuse to spend some time in the country.

  The physical exertion of this morning’s ride helped wrench his mind from the dissolution of his past, and the clean, open air and fields eased the feelings of suffocation that had lately plagued him in London.

  His brother-in-law had acquired a fine, strong horse. It was young, and a bit lacking in polish and endurance, but that would come with time and maturity.

  Alex let his mind wander as the ground disappeared beneath the flash of hooves. In London he was constantly hounded by businessmen, fawning nobles, and aspiring women. The business he enjoyed, and he’d long since grown used to the others, but sometimes a man just wanted to be left to himself. He’d been feeling that way more and more often of late.

  The fact was—and he was man enough to admit it—he’d come to a point in his life where he wasn’t quite sure of his direction. His estates and investments were operating smoothly. After fifteen years of watching his ventures pay off, he was confident in all his business decisions. But he was no longer inspired, no longer driven to prove himself. Nor was he interested in living the life of leisure and dissipation so many of his fellow noblemen embraced. He’d certainly tried it. But the cards grew old, the wom
en tiresome. And the one time he’d made a mistake, it had been disastrous.

  No, he needed something different, something new. He just didn’t know what.

  The country house with its manicured grounds came into view. After he cooled off the horse, he would have a nice visit with his sister and say hello to her children, who adored their only uncle. The other guests would arrive soon. He hadn’t been thrilled to hear of the party, but Marian rarely entertained and was counting on his presence. He wouldn’t let her down by returning to London.

  As he approached the gardens, Alex reined in the horse. The children were out enjoying the morning with their governess, each tugging on one of her hands as they excitedly pointed out flowers, bugs, and other delights. Young Henry struggled to hold the leash of an exuberant black Labrador puppy, a recent gift for his sixth birthday.

  Their governess was a plain woman, in gray cap and gown, but her attentiveness to the children was admirable. Alex saw her nod and laugh as his niece, Clara, held up a tiny bird’s nest for examination. So absorbed was she in her young charge’s treasure that she failed to hear Alex’s approach. The puppy, on the other hand, went wild with excitement, broke free of Henry’s grip, and ran pell-mell through the garden before rushing back to the trio.

  Poor Henry grabbed for the trailing leash as the puppy dashed between Clara and the governess, toppling them both as he was brought up short. Masses of red hair tumbled out of the governess’s cap, which now sat severely askew.

  Alex caught his breath. Only one woman he knew had hair like that. But what in blazes would she be doing here? He dismounted quickly.

  Plain, indeed. The children’s governess, he saw as he strode toward the garden, was none other than Elizabeth Medford. She dusted herself off gingerly and checked Clara for bruises while Henry admonished his puppy.

  “Don’t scold him too hard, Master Henry,” she said. “He’s just a pup, after all, and what is a pup to do when a great, scary horse rides up?”

  Elizabeth looked up, and Alex saw her eyes widen as she recognized him. Her cheeks filled with color and she shook her head slightly.