by Allegra Gray
Elizabeth took a step back. Alex moved in front of her, his ire rising once more as he observed how nervous she became around a conscious Wetherby.
“You may proceed,” Harold informed the vicar. “I want this thing done.”
“Like hell,” Alex said.
“Gentlemen—” the vicar began.
“We’ve matters to settle.” Alex’s words, and his raised hand, stopped the vicar midspeech.
Harold sidled over, still swaying. “Elizabeth’s family appreciates me taking her off their hands.”
Alex clenched his jaw, unable to believe the man’s gall.
“You see,” Harold said, “in marrying me, she’ll regain some of the respectability she lost in consorting with you.”
Alex’s fist connected with the fleshy jowl of his nemesis. Harold staggered—though from the blow or the lingering effects of whatever potion Elizabeth had slipped him, Alex couldn’t tell.
“Now, now!” cried the vicar, though he backed several steps away from the angry men. “This is a house of God.”
Both men ignored him.
Alex watched as Harold struggled for balance and clutched his jaw.
“Get out,” Alex bit out, not trusting himself to further speech.
But the swine lumbered back and thrust out his chest. He grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. “She’s mine now.”
“As I told you, the lady does not wish to marry you.”
“She’s ruined. What other option does she have?” he blustered.
“One far superior. She’s marrying me.”
Suddenly the small church went silent. Elizabeth, Harold, and the vicar all stared at him, the latter two with their mouths hanging open.
“Is this true?” the vicar finally asked Harold.
“I know nothing of it,” he answered, but his normally ruddy face had lost most of its color.
“Young lady?”
It took all Alex’s patience not to answer for her. Yes. Just say yes, he silently begged her.
He’d not been planning a proposal when he entered the church that morning. It had just slipped out. But now that it had, he knew, deep in his core, it was meant to be. If only Elizabeth would agree. They could work out the details later.
Dust motes danced in the light that filtered through the church’s narrow windows, and still Elizabeth was silent.
The vicar turned back to Harold. “At any rate, I can’t perform the ceremony under such circumstances. I fear I must recuse myself.”
“We had an agreement,” Harold hissed.
“He’s a peer of the realm,” the vicar hissed back.
Alex ignored them. “Elizabeth?”
“My lord,” she whispered. “I know you didn’t mean it. It was a mistake. And you, being a gentleman…but you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.”
“But Society will—”
“Society be damned.” He placed a finger over her lips to hush her. When she stilled, he grasped her hands and knelt.
He’d done more to hurt this woman than she even realized, but he loved her. And starting this moment, he intended to make it all up to her.
“Elizabeth, I meant it. Forget everything else. Will you marry me?”
She bit her bottom lip and looked at him hard, as though taking his measure. She cocked her head, and he could see the mistrust in her eyes give way to hope, and then the corners of her mouth turned up in the first true smile he’d seen from her that morning. She took a deep breath and gave him the answer he so longed to hear.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Harold punched his fist into the altar, then recoiled as the marble proved too solid to shatter before his frustration. Rubbing his knuckles, he staggered from the church.
The vicar withdrew more quietly, leaving Elizabeth alone with Alex.
She sank slowly to the steps before the altar, reeling with emotion. The events of the morning would have had any lesser woman reaching for her smelling salts. In fact, she’d been only seconds away from pretending to faint, thereby stopping the sham of a wedding, when Harold had done so instead.
And of course there was Alex. He’d looked so magnificent, storming into the church. How had he known where to find her?
It didn’t matter. He had found her. Her heart swelled. He cared.
His proposal had given her a moment of pause, though. After all, he was a cad. He’d seduced her, and the whole of London knew, or at least suspected, it. And there was that thing Cutter had said, about her being a part of some deal between Alex and her father.
But she loved him.
Cad or no, she would marry Alex Bainbridge. Besides, his proposal rendered most of those prior faults irrelevant.
She longed to trace the hard line of his jaw, to step into his arms and melt into the strength of his embrace.
But first, she owed him an explanation. “Your Grace—”
“I liked it better when you simply called me Alex.”
“Alex,” she began again, determined to tell him why he’d found her in a church, seemingly about to marry another man.
But how, exactly, did one explain such a thing?
“What happened this morning…” she tried again.
“We can discuss it later. Just tell me one thing.” Alex reached out to touch her fading bruise. “Did he hurt you?”
Elizabeth looked down, unwilling to lie but ashamed of the truth. After a long moment she met Alex’s gaze again.
His eyes were hard. “He will pay,” he told her, his voice clipped. With one hand he tipped her chin, then studied her neck, patted her arms. “Where else did he hurt you? How else did he hurt you? Shall I summon a physician?”
“Nay, I am already mending quite well.”
“But perhaps, just in case…” His hands fretted over her body.
Seeing the duke brought low by worrying over her melted Elizabeth’s reserve.
She stilled his hands with her own. “Oh, Alex, just hold me.”
He did, snatching her into his arms with barely checked force. He stroked her hair, her back, over and over while he held her. “God, Elizabeth. You’ve no idea. When I returned to my sister’s and found you gone—”
Whatever else he’d been going to say was lost, for his lips found her forehead, her brow, as he covered her with kisses.
Elizabeth inhaled his scent, absorbed his strength. There were a thousand questions to ask about the future, but they would wait for now.
“Tell me again,” he murmured against her neck, nuzzling at her earlobe.
Elizabeth tipped her head to allow him greater access. “Tell you what?”
“That you’ll marry me.”
“I’ll marry you,” she breathed, unable to believe that Alex Bainbridge, Duke of Beaufort, had proposed to her. If this was a dream, she hoped it would never end.
The vicar stood in the shadows of a stairwell, watching the handsome couple at the altar.
He would lose the generous sum Wetherby had promised him for performing the marriage ceremony, but there was no doubt in his mind that the red-haired young lady had made the right choice.
Chapter Fourteen
What had he just done? How had this slip of a girl transformed him from London’s worst libertine into a man who dashed across the countryside to propose marriage?
The funny thing was, it felt right. As though marrying her would make him whole.
Alex looked at Elizabeth, standing beside him. She appeared a bit dazed. Not that he could blame her.
“Let’s go,” he told her, taking her hand and leading her from the little country church. He squinted his eyes against the bright morning sunlight. There was no sign of Wetherby. Good.
Alex’s horse stood near the gate to the church cemetery, looking disgruntled—no doubt he’d been expecting a rubdown and some oats after tearing across the countryside.
Alex walked over and picked up the reins, his eyes drifting over the tombstones as he did.
Lord Medford was pro
bably rolling in his grave. When he’d offered Elizabeth up to the duke to settle his debts, could he have had any inkling of how well suited the two were?
Alex would have smiled, but the irony was too grim. If he had agreed to marry Elizabeth when her father first proposed it, the baron might still be alive. And Elizabeth certainly wouldn’t have suffered the trials of these past months.
It was better she didn’t know the extent of her father’s betrayal. She’d suffered enough.
Alex’s horse presented another problem.
“I was so intent on finding you, I didn’t think how I’d get you back to town,” he apologized. “My horse is good, but I doubt either you or he would be comfortable riding double all the way back to London.”
He glanced around the village. Besides the church, it boasted a few shops and homes, and a small inn. “Stay here a moment—promise me you won’t move an inch.”
Elizabeth did exactly as he asked. After the tumult of the morning, she wasn’t sure she could move an inch if she had to, other than, perhaps, to collapse in relief and wonder.
Alex was gone mere minutes before he came striding back, looking mildly put out.
“There are no carriages for hire until the next town over—perhaps two or three miles. You’ll have to ride in front of me. My horse can carry us both that far,” he told her.
She nodded. But she had a more pressing need than transportation. She stared at the ground, her neck and face heated, hating for Alex to know just how Harold had weakened her. “Alex, before we go, is there somewhere we can eat? I’m hungry.”
“Hungry? The noon hour is still a way off.”
“I know, but…”
She knew when he understood the truth of it by the way his eyes darkened. “That bastard,” he bit out savagely. “If I ever get my hands on him—”
“Alex.”
He stopped. “My apologies. Of course, dearest. We’ll find something to eat.”
Grateful tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them away, but when Alex returned ten minutes later with a thick ham sandwich and an apple, they flooded forth. She cried even as she ate, sitting on the ground in front of the little church.
To her surprise, her stomach filled long before she wanted to be done.
“It’s all right,” Alex said gently. “I guess you haven’t had a good meal in some time. If you try to overdo it now, you’ll just make yourself sick.”
She nodded but clenched tight the remains of the sandwich.
Alex held her close. “God, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you all along. This should never have happened to you.”
“You came for me. You’re here now.”
“And I’m not going anywhere.” He carefully pried the food from her hands and wrapped it in a cloth napkin. “We’ll bring this with us. When you’re ready, you can have it. You don’t ever need to worry about going hungry again.” He kissed her temple, her lips. “Are you ready to go now?”
“Yes. Please.” With that most basic need satiated, she wanted nothing more than to get as far from her memories of Harold’s torment as possible. Except…“Wait. There is one more thing. Bormley—that’s Harold’s servant. He put the potion in Harold’s wine this morning, at my request. I promised him payment for aiding my escape. Only,” she studied the grass at her feet, “I haven’t any way…” she trailed off, embarrassed at her request.
“Consider it done.” Alex glanced around. “He’s gone now. But I’ll see to it—you need never think of the matter again.”
Finally, Alex helped her mount the horse. Her senses jolted as he settled behind her and nudged the horse to a walk.
It was intimate, and improper, riding like this, with her bottom nestled against his hips, snug between his thighs.
But they were to be married—and there was really no other way. She tried to relax into the rhythmic gait.
After the intense scene in the church, Alex seemed hesitant to talk. Elizabeth didn’t know what to say either. So much had happened in the past few weeks. She didn’t want to relive it all right now.
She twisted around to look up at her new fiancé. His jaw was so strong, his eyes so intense. His unruly dark hair begged for a woman’s touch. This man owned estates throughout England, invested in ventures at home and abroad, and wielded more power than anyone she’d ever known.
And he’d come to rescue her. He’d offered to marry her.
She should be deliriously happy. Except—except she just couldn’t help but remember the incident with the man she’d encountered en route home after losing her governess’s position. Mr. Cutter, drunkard though he may have been, had unsettled her, shaken her faith that Alex’s intentions were sincere. Had Alex actually bargained with her father to accept her as payment for gambling debts the baron couldn’t cover? The thought made her ill.
He’d only pursued her after her father’s death, she reminded herself. But it was still possible he’d received notice from her father’s estate, saying the debt could not be repaid, and only then decided to make good on her father’s other “offer.” But he’d never mentioned anything of the sort to her…because it was shameful, or because it wasn’t true?
When he’d first pursued her, was it out of true interest or simply to “collect” on the agreement? And how had Cutter known of the situation? Had Alex actually discussed this with others? How many members of Society were secretly snickering—or, hopefully, appalled—that her very own father saw her as a fancy bargaining chip?
She was certain Alex cared for her now, but how much?
Was he marrying her out of love or guilt?
Dear God, what if his silence now was because he regretted his hasty proposal in the church?
Alex glanced down to see Elizabeth looking at him. The sun shone like flames on her hair where it escaped the confines of her cap, and he had a sudden urge to kiss the pert tip of her nose. But her eyes seemed shadowed.
“What is it?”
She shook her head and turned to face forward again.
“Elizabeth?”
She sighed. “What you did back there…”
“Was something I should have done long ago,” he finished for her.
“Should have? Or wanted to?”
“What do you mean?” Something was obviously bothering her.
“What made you pursue me in the first place?” she asked suddenly.
That was easy. “When I returned to find you gone, and heard what had happened…that Wetherby had taken you…it was the only thing to do. I only wish I’d been able to come faster.”
“No, no. I mean, why did you pursue me before all that? I mean, I nearly begged you to ruin me, and you refused. What made you change your mind?”
She was fiddling with her skirts. He could feel the tension in her body.
She did have a point.
“I can’t explain it,” he said slowly. “Your offer tempted me sorely, and later, when I discovered you under my sister’s employ, away from the falsity of Society…I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I know we did not begin on the most honorable of terms, and I apologize for that. My desire got the better of me.”
She turned to him as fully as their position allowed, narrowing her eyes. “It wasn’t because you were exacting payment from my father?”
Bloody hell. He swallowed, hard. How had she heard about that?
But no, he’d never done that. If anything, her father’s offer had nearly kept him from pursuing her at all.
Alex saw in her eyes it would do no good to feign ignorance. “No,” he told her, gently but firmly, “I was not trying to recoup your father’s debt through you.”
“But he did offer me.” She said it flatly.
“Yes.” Alex felt sick. But he wasn’t going to lie.
How could it feel, to know your father would do such a thing?
“I refused, and avoided further contact with Medford after that,” he told her. “I wasn’t even certain who you were at the time. At the Pea
sleys’ ball, I asked you to dance out of true interest. Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be his daughter.”
“But he was dead by then. You knew he’d never be able to repay the debt honestly.”
Alex frowned. “My sense of honor is not so entirely lacking as you suggest, my lady. The loss irritated me, but I would not expect a daughter to pay for her father’s misdeeds. If anything, that is why I refused your unconventional offer at first.”
“And later?” She seemed unconvinced. “If there was no agreement, then how did Cutter hear of it?”
“Cutter?”
She explained the incident in the park.
“Ah, Elizabeth.” He pulled her tense body back against his. His body was reacting to their intimate position atop the horse, but for once he kept his mind focused on what was best for her.
Even if he hadn’t accepted Medford’s awful proposal, he had wronged Elizabeth. She needed words right now, not his lust.
“That was my fault. On a night when I’d drunk too much—in an effort to forget you, and your outrageous proposal I’d just turned down—I made a brief mention of your father’s words. I was clear, even then, that I’d never agreed to it. I don’t believe I even named you, or your father. But Cutter must have heard of our affair and come to his own conclusion. I should never have mentioned it, and for that I am truly sorry.”
She nodded in seeming acceptance.
“Both of us have acted in ways that do little credit to our character,” she said softly. “I ran from home, and shamed my family by engaging in a scandalous affair.”
He leaned his head against hers. “I cannot fault you for running. I understand now, far more than before, why you were so desperate to avoid a fate tied to Wetherby.”
He kissed the top of her head, stroked her hair. “Nor, Elizabeth, would I undo anything we’ve done together, regardless of how it came about.”
“Nor would I,” she whispered.
Alex began nibbling at her ear. “It was you I wanted, Elizabeth, not some strange form of revenge against your father. I’m sorry I didn’t do the honorable thing and ask for your hand before claiming your body. You’ve no idea how I missed you while I was away. And then to return and find you gone…”
