Nothing But Scandal

by Allegra Gray

  “But not quite perfect.”

  The smile disappeared.

  “I believe this will help.” He held out a small velvet box, opened to reveal an emerald pendant.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “How beautiful.”

  “Here.” He fastened the clasp around her neck, breathing in the scent of lavender and woman. He stepped back before the urge to crush her to him got the better of him. “Perfect.”

  “It’s lovely, thank you so much.” She placed her arm in his. “Shall we go?”

  “Indeed.”

  He’d hoped for at least a few moments of intimacy in the carriage to Lady Pullington’s, but it was not to be. Elizabeth sat close to him, and told him several more times how she appreciated his gift, but she seemed distracted, fidgety. He tried to quell his growing impatience with her behavior, but with Hanson’s odd warning lingering in his mind, he found it hard to do.

  When they arrived for the party, Bea had tables set up in two salons and the library, though much of the large salon was dedicated to a long table laden with refreshments and an open area for guests to mingle.

  Prior to his marriage, Alex would simply have settled in at a table and ignored the socializing in favor of serious card-playing.

  But tonight, he was having trouble letting go of Elizabeth. He noticed, not for the first time, how her gown was cut low in the bodice. With his advantage in height, the hollow between her breasts was enticingly obvious, especially with the emerald pendant he’d given her nestled just so.

  Alex plucked a glass of wine from a passing servant’s tray. Damn it, why wasn’t he at home, in bed, with his wife?

  “Why don’t you go ahead and play?” Elizabeth suggested sweetly.

  Was she so anxious to be rid of him? He settled a possessive hand at the small of her back, in no hurry to leave her. Cards could wait. But just then, Lord Stockton clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Beaufort. Good to see you. Heard a rumor you were in town—wouldn’t have come here tonight otherwise.”

  Elizabeth gave Alex a pretty wave and slipped away from his grip. Before he knew it, he was seated at a table with three other men. He recognized them as veteran players. It wasn’t the entertainment he would have preferred, but perhaps the night wouldn’t be a complete waste.

  “Surprised your young wife let you out tonight, Beaufort,” one of the men remarked.

  “Oh, come off it,” another said. “Beaufort’s a man can do as he pleases. Wouldn’t let a little thing like marriage tie him down.”

  He would, Alex reflected, it was his wife who wouldn’t. Had this trip lightened her spirits, as she’d claimed it would? It was hard to tell, he’d seen so little of her.

  Lord Garrett arrived and took the last seat at the table. “Excellent,” he said as the men dealt him in. “Haven’t found a game as good as this all winter. Beaufort, you’ve been missed. Glad to see your wife knows how to entertain herself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Alex asked sharply. Damn it, why was everyone remarking on his marriage? He forced a deep breath. They were probably just ribbing him—they couldn’t know Elizabeth’s odd behavior had him worried.

  Garrett gave him a blank look. “Meant nothing by it, Your Grace. I passed her out shopping the other day with some of her lady friends, and again in the park—don’t know the gentleman she was speaking to. A bit older, he was. Anyway, nice of her not to keep you all to herself. White’s has been terribly dull.”

  Alex gave a strained smile. Who the hell had his wife been meeting in the park? For that matter, who on earth went to the park in the middle of winter? Why hadn’t she asked him to accompany her? A thought stopped him. Perhaps she didn’t want him there.

  She’d been so distant of late…all those disappearances, sometimes for hours. Where had she been? And with whom? Had he been only a means to an end for her? Was her true love elsewhere? His heart—an organ he’d only recently discovered he possessed—felt like lead. He picked up his cards, forcing himself to concentrate despite the anger and mistrust boiling up inside him.

  Elizabeth watched anxiously as the party progressed. She’d promised herself that after tonight, especially if she learned nothing new, she would drop this crazy investigation. Her heart hurt over the growing distance between her and Alex, and over the knowledge it was her fault. Tonight, she would have a chance to speak with two men who knew Alex best, one of whom her father’s solicitor had also mentioned. If they didn’t know anything, there likely wasn’t anything to be known—a gross misinterpretation on her old coachman’s part, perhaps, but nothing more.

  Finally, she saw the opportunity she’d sought. Lord Garrett, who’d played at Alex’s table most of the evening, pushed away his cards and stood to stretch.

  As he headed for the table bearing the punch bowl, Elizabeth followed.

  She casually reached for a glass of fruity, alcohol-laden punch, just as Lord Garrett did the same.

  “Oh, pardon me,” he exclaimed.

  “No, no. I’m sorry,” she squeaked, her voice abnormally high. She was such a fraud. “Lord Garrett, yes?”

  “At your service, Your Grace.” He bowed gallantly, handed her the glass of punch she’d been reaching for.

  “Why, thank you.” She sipped, then swallowed with difficulty, too nervous to consider drinking any more. She gripped the glass tightly to conceal her shaking hands.

  “I don’t recall if I’ve had the opportunity to congratulate you personally on your recent marriage.”

  “Why, thank you, Lord Garrett.”

  “Never thought Beaufort would succumb to the lure of marital bliss,” he joked. “Of course, he is a man of great wisdom, and great appreciation for beauty. Clearly he found something unique in you.”

  Elizabeth cast her eyes down, a smile at her lips. Lord Garrett, a few years younger than her husband, was clearly a charmer. But that was good. If he was friendly, this could be easier than she’d thought. If only she could lure him somewhere quiet, where they might talk at length.

  Together they drifted toward the hall, where a few windows were cracked just enough to let in some air without letting in the winter chill.

  “I must say, though,” he continued, “it is a surprise to see you both back in London so soon.”

  “Only for a short visit. My husband and I had a few matters to attend to in town, and when my good friend Lady Pullington invited us tonight, it seemed like a nice change from the monotony of country life. We’ll be returning to Montgrave soon. I confess, the past year has been rather tumultuous for me.” She paused to catch her breath.

  “Yes…your father,” Lord Garrett murmured. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Hope flared in her chest. He’d brought up the subject of her father with only the smallest opening from her. Perhaps she could finally learn something.

  “Did you know him?” Elizabeth asked. “I believe he used to play cards on occasion with my husband, as you do. Did he ever join your group?” she prompted.

  Was she being too obvious? Her palms felt moist, her tongue dry.

  Lord Garrett looked discomfited. “No, I’m afraid not. I don’t believe the baron and your husband were playing together by the time I joined the group.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointed. “I thought I remembered something, a business venture of some sort, where my father might have mentioned you.” She gave him a silly smile. “I must be mistaken—I’ve no head for such matters.”

  He smiled back, falling easy prey to her foolish-female act. “No, you are quite bright. In fact, now that you mention it, I do believe the baron and I were involved in a shipping venture or two.”

  “And Alex as well?” she asked hopefully.

  He gave a rueful laugh. “No, if I recall, those ventures did not turn out well. The duke is far too wise to have made such mistakes.”

  “I see.” He’d confirmed for her, at least, that the gambling relationship between her father and Alex had once existed. “You seem to kno
w my husband well. Why did my father and Alex stop playing cards together? Was there some sort of falling out between them?”

  Lord Garrett cast a glance back toward the large salon where guests were mingling and laughingly placing predictions about who among them would have luck at the playing tables tonight.

  “Perhaps it is best forgotten,” he said gently.

  But Elizabeth couldn’t stop now. Not when she’d finally spoken to someone who’d known her father, apparently, toward the end of his life.

  She pressed closer, gave him the most soulful, appealing look she knew. “It’s only, I don’t often get to speak with anyone who knew him. The rest of the ton, as you, seems anxious to forget.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Lord Garrett said quietly. “But I’m afraid, by the time I knew Medford, he was not a happy man, and I should feel terrible if I dampened your spirits with such a topic.”

  “On the contrary, my lord, it is a relief to speak frankly. I know my father had a side to him he hid from his family. We learned that the hard way, from those to whom he was indebted. My husband doesn’t like to speak of it. But I thought if I knew more, I might be able to finally understand my father for the man he was. It’s important to me to do that.”

  “I see.” Lord Garrett studied his punch. “I’ve no wish to come between you and your husband, but I can tell you they argued—Beaufort was one of the men your father owed and could not pay. I’m afraid the duke didn’t think very highly of your father when Medford broke the news. Your husband gambles, but never with money he can’t afford to lose. He has little respect for those who do not play similarly.”

  Lord Garrett lowered his voice further as he spoke, until they stood mere inches from one another, heads bent in deepest confidence.

  “After the argument, the two men avoided one another,” Garrett told her, his lips so near her ear they nearly brushed, and yet she still strained to hear him. “I don’t believe they had any further contact until—”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt this cozy little conversation,” a deep voice growled, startling Elizabeth so that she sprang back.

  “Alex!”

  “Beaufort,” Lord Garrett greeted him with a smile.

  “Garrett.” Alex did not return the smile. His face was a mask of ice. “My wife and I are leaving.”

  “But Alex—”

  “Don’t argue with me.” His voice was low in her ear, but menacing. She shuddered.

  Lord Garrett looked between them. “Is something amiss?”

  “My wife has the headache.”

  “I don’t—” The beginnings of a protest slipped out before she thought to bite them back.

  “Fine. I have a headache. Come, fetch your things.”

  Elizabeth followed her husband, casting a glance of bewildered apology back at Lord Garrett, who shrugged and headed for the card room.

  Elizabeth had to hurry to keep up with Alex’s long, angry strides.

  A footman brought their cloaks, and soon they were ensconced in the duke’s carriage, en route to his London home.

  Alex sat stonily on the seat across from her. Darkness sheltered her from his glowering expression, but she could feel the waves of anger radiating from him.

  “Now will you tell me what’s wrong?” she pled, her voice soft.

  “No.”

  “Why? What can it be?”

  “Elizabeth!” The word burst forth before he clamped his jaw shut and turned toward the window. “I don’t trust myself to speak yet.”

  A shudder passed through her. He was angry at her. She knew it. But why? Could he have uncovered the real reason behind her desire to go to London? She’d certainly tried to be discreet—after all, her heart still protested the idea that her husband could have been responsible for her father’s demise. Or was there something else?

  Elizabeth risked another glance at her husband. Lights from the homes they passed dimly illuminated the interior of the carriage—enough for her to see Alex’s expression had not changed.

  She hugged herself close. Had she been wrong to come here? She knew their relationship hadn’t been good of late. But she loved him. She just—well, she just had to know. If not for her father’s sake, for her own. She’d spent the first twenty years of her life being deceived by a man she loved. She had no desire to spend the remainder of her life the same way.

  Finally the coach slowed, then stopped in front of their home. Alex allowed her to precede him out.

  She entered the house uncertainly, handed her cloak without thought to the butler, then stood in the chilly entryway.

  Alex removed his cloak as well. Finally he spared her a glance. “Upstairs.”

  Fear slowed her steps as she obeyed the single-word command. She’d never seen him this angry. Or this controlled.

  At least he wasn’t going to argue in front of the servants.

  He went up ahead of her, then stood at the top waiting, his expression ominous.

  Then again, she thought wildly, if the servants were present, there would be someone to protect her.

  She’d believed, all these months, that she would find the evidence that would exonerate her husband. But witnessing his anger now cast a dark shadow of doubt on that belief.

  The moment they entered the master suite, he rounded on her.

  “Is he the one?”

  “What?” His question floored her. “Who?”

  “Garrett,” he spat.

  “What about him?”

  “Is he the one?” His eyes narrowed. “For God’s sake, and your own, do not tell me there is more than one.”

  Her mouth fell open as understanding dawned. He thought her unfaithful? “No. No, I would never—”

  He waved a hand to cut her off. “Don’t bother. I should have known better. From the moment you proposed that I ruin you, I should have stayed away. I thought it was just your father who was mad, who’d driven you to such lengths, but I see I was wrong.”

  His lips twisted as though the words he spoke tasted bitter. “You may have been innocent back then, but it has not taken you long to learn to ply your wares.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What does my father have to do with this?”

  “He offered you to me. Remember? As payment for his debts,” Alex spat, his face dark with rage. “I couldn’t believe a father would do such a thing. But apparently he knew his daughter better than I thought. Oh, I’m sure he’s happy now. Probably laughing his head off from beyond the grave. I actually married you.”

  “No,” Elizabeth whispered—though what she’d just denied, she couldn’t have said.

  “Perhaps I should have just taken what he offered, back then, for then I’d have enjoyed your delectable body without guilt, without obligation.”

  “Obligation?” she echoed, her own anger rising. “You married me out of obligation? I made it very clear from the beginning—”

  “You made nothing clear. I actually believed you an innocent, a victim of circumstance. A gently bred girl forced into a governess’s position, forced to hide away her beauty and passion in the country where nothing could come of it. Well, you do have beauty and passion, my sweet. Would that you’d used them to more noble purposes.” He turned away.

  “You’re not making sense,” Elizabeth said, as calmly as she could, though her whole body roiled against his accusations, against the vast gulf of misunderstanding that separated them. “What have I ever done—besides love you?”

  “Love me. Oh, yes, I can see that you do,” he bit out sarcastically. “Perhaps that is why you, my wife, are gone so often from our home that I’ve begun to think you cannot stand the sight of me. Oh, you loved me well enough to get my ring on your finger, to get my name added to yours,” he said icily, “but your love disappeared rather quickly after that. You’re no better than all the other debutantes who flung themselves in my direction. No better than a common whore, who, once paid, withdraws her affections.”

  He stalked the room, flinging an angry arm towa
rd the bed as he ranted at her.

  “Well, the greater fool am I for believing in your love,” he said, bitterness creeping into his tone. “I’m sorry to admit your little scheme worked. It was clever, I’ll grant you that. No one else went so far as to ensconce themselves in both my bed and my sister’s house in order to grab my attention. Most contented themselves with fawning over me at balls and the like. But you, I thought you were different. You had me fooled. I thought you were real. I ought to know better, after so many years in Society.”

  “There was no scheme,” Elizabeth whispered. His words stung like cruel whips.

  “No? Then where is this love you proclaim?”

  “I do love you,” she whispered, her heart aching with both love and betrayal. She loved him—she just didn’t know if she trusted him.

  He knew it, too.

  “Liar,” he spat. “Only today you were seen in the park consorting with another man, and then tonight I catch you in confidence with Lord Garrett. Elizabeth, I might have made a mistake in believing your love was true, but I will not stand for a wife who cuckolds me. Do you understand?”

  “I never—”

  “You lie.” His voice was impenetrably cold and unemotional, his face a mask of rigid planes. “Your father’s wretched offer didn’t work. And when he left you nearly destitute, you and your horrible mother still thought you could attach yourselves to a dukedom, and you were willing to stop at nothing.

  “Well, I don’t like being used, and I don’t like being lied to. I can’t imagine what you could possibly still want that would lead you to another man, but I do not care to find out. You’re nothing more than a talented liar and a slut. Get out of my sight.”

  Elizabeth had no idea how he’d convinced himself of what he said, but it was clear that any further argument of hers was worthless. Gathering what scraps of dignity she had left, she rose to leave.

  “You are wrong, Your Grace. Perhaps someday you will know this. Perhaps not. But I am certain of what is in my heart and my conscience. Nothing I did, nothing we did, was less than honest.”

  Perhaps his actions, or her father’s, had been false, but all she’d done was get caught in the struggle to remain true to the two men whom she’d loved.