Nothing But Scandal

by Allegra Gray

  “And where was I? Am I to have no say in the matter?”

  “You were…resting.” He did not meet her eyes.

  “Drugged, you mean. You drugged me.” Blood began to pulse at her temples as she realized what he’d done.

  “It was for your own good. What with your abominable behavior these last months, we could hardly expect you to see reason.”

  “Reason?” she screeched. “You think this passes for reason? Drugging a woman you intend to marry and hauling her off to…where am I, anyway? And what day is it?”

  “Today is Thursday. Your location is…somewhere private.”

  “Somewhere I can’t escape, you mean.” She shook with anger, with humiliation.

  “It’s only until you adjust.”

  “Adjust? To what?”

  He pushed off the door frame and walked toward her. His large hand cupped her chin, forced her gaze to his. “To marrying me. To being obedient. To placing my pleasure, my will, above your own. As a woman should.”

  She yanked her chin away. “You’re mad.”

  He stepped closer, his features twisted in a sneer. “I assure you I am not. You will learn obedience, if I must beat it into you. It would be better for you to accept that.”

  The wall behind her cut off her retreat. Elizabeth turned her head rather than face him.

  Her mind was still muddled from the aftereffects of whatever potion he’d used on her, but she struggled to think her way out of this.

  “An obedient and proper woman would not countenance staying alone with a man she thought to marry,” she declared, shoulders squared.

  “Proper?” He gave an ugly laugh. “Do not toss that term at me, for all of Society is gossiping over your behavior. Your uncle thinks I don’t know, but I am not a fool, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t about to give in, even if it meant acceding, at least on the surface, to his statements about her character. “Is it not my behavior you wish to change? Perhaps it would be best to start by setting a proper model.”

  “Regrettably, we must forgo that aspect of propriety.” He gave her a leer that suggested he didn’t find the situation regrettable at all. “You’ve proven yourself untrustworthy and unpredictable, and I believe matters between us are best settled apart from others.

  “Besides, a stay alone with me will, in the eyes of the church, only hasten the need for marriage.” His hands encircled her waist, then snaked up to her rib cage, his thumbs pressing at the underside of her breasts.

  “Stop it.” She jerked back, but the wall stood firm behind her.

  He squeezed lightly, panting.

  “Your touch makes me ill. If you do not release me, I shall cast up my accounts upon your shoes.”

  Harold stepped back quickly with a glance at his overpolished shoes, the leer of moments before replaced by the flush of anger. “Don’t think this is over, Elizabeth. The world already knows you’re a slut, so you can’t put me off with talk of propriety. I intend to have that delectable little body of yours. Maybe not now, but soon enough. I’m in charge here. If you wish to have your freedom again, or a visit with your sister, perhaps, you’ll learn to please and obey me.”

  “I’d sooner perish,” she spat.

  He gave her a pitying smile. “I’m sure you’ll come to rethink that position.” He turned and left the room, picking up the tray of tea and bread and taking it with him. Only when she heard him fumble with the latch did Elizabeth realize he’d locked her in.

  Bastard. Harold’s actions, though despicable, did not surprise her. They were right in line with his character. But the fact that her uncle, at least, must have agreed to the plan…Elizabeth hated them both so much her hands shook.

  Well, she would not be subdued that easily.

  She went again to the window. Outside she saw a small yard, then rolling green fields, then forest. The morning mist still lay in the hollows between hills. No road, no village. But perhaps her window simply faced the wrong direction to see them.

  Or else Harold had taken her some place very remote indeed.

  Between the house and the forest, there was no place to hide. She would have to be quick. The room that imprisoned her was on the second story. A thick hedge grew beneath. She bit her lip, considering. If she hung from the ledge, the hedge would break her fall—though the landing would likely be unpleasant. But not so unpleasant as waiting helplessly in the room for a rescue that might never come.

  She could do this. Elizabeth looked again, but there was no sign of Harold. She slowly eased out of the window and lowered herself until she hung by her fingertips. Holding her breath, she let go.

  Fabric tore as her skirt caught on a peg, but other than that, she landed unharmed.

  As soon as her legs were under her, she ran for the forest.

  It was farther than it had looked from the window. Her lungs burned. She dared not slow until she’d reached the cover of the forest.

  Finally, the open field was behind her. Slipping around the trunk of a tall tree, she leaned against the rough bark to catch her breath. The dew had soaked her slippers and the hem of her skirts. She was still wearing the clothes she’d had on for dinner back in London. They were hardly made for rough travel.

  Slowly the sound of her heart pounding receded, and all she heard were water droplets dripping from the leaves. Everything seemed unnaturally still.

  From the slight chill in the air, and the surrounding trees, she guessed Harold had taken her north. Though where, exactly, she had no idea.

  She peeked from behind the tree trunk. No one in sight. Without a particular destination in mind, she slipped from the tree that hid her to the next, and the next, keeping the fields in sight so she wouldn’t lose her way. If only she could find a road, or a cottage—anywhere she might ask for help.

  Hooves thundered toward the edge of the forest.

  Elizabeth ran for deeper cover, but it was too late.

  Harold’s gloved hand swooped down and struck her to the ground as he pulled his horse to a sudden halt.

  She landed hard, the wind knocked from her lungs. Desperately she scrambled backward, gaping like a fish as she struggled for breath.

  Harold’s face was purple with fury.

  “Foolish slut! Did you honestly think I wouldn’t guess you’d try the window?” He leapt from his horse with surprising agility, considering his heft. He grabbed her arm and hauled her toward him, bending her over his knee like a misbehaved child.

  His hand came down hard on her backside. Suddenly she could breathe again. The blow hurt, but Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from whimpering.

  “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 b
ackside.

  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.

  Chapter Twelve

  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.”