Nothing But Scandal. Allegra GrayЧитать онлайн книгу.
discovering her in his sister’s employ. “Why are you here?”
She whipped around, eyes large. “Your Grace.”
He inclined his head.
“I was just, that is”—she gestured toward the sky—“the moon is lovely tonight.”
“So it is. But that only answers part of my question.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What brings you here, Miss Medford? To Garden Home?”
“You know the answer to that, Your Grace. I am governess to your nephew and niece.”
“Of course.”
“What do you mean, ‘of course’?” Her chin went up. “Your sister was kind to hire me, and I am thankful for the position.”
He admired her unique combination of spirit and humility. She wasn’t too proud to admit she was grateful to have work, but she was strong enough to defend her choice. And now that he’d met Harold Wetherby, Alex had an inkling of why she’d made that decision. But he wanted to hear it from her. Why had she run away, when so many other women in her plight would have submissively married the prig?
“I had the pleasure of meeting your fiancé,” he announced, keeping his tone jovial.
She frowned. “My fiancé?”
“Wetherby informs me you two are to marry.”
Even the moonlight couldn’t hide her deep flush. Embarrassment, or something else? Anger, perhaps?
“Oh, yes. We’re very much in love,” she choked out.
“So Wetherby says,” Alex lied. “He is…really something. However did you manage to catch him?”
A strangled laugh escaped her throat. “Sheer luck, I suppose.”
“Oh, come now,” he teased. “A beauty like yourself? Wetherby must have done away with all your other suitors to even have a chance.”
“Something like that,” she said faintly, and pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders.
Ah. So she hadn’t had other offers. At least none her father had accepted prior to his death. Elizabeth was attractive, but her lack of dowry was public knowledge. Guilt pricked him, and he resisted the urge to draw her close and protect her.
Instead, Alex decided to raise the stakes of their verbal game. “So, tell me. How does Wetherby feel about his fiancée working as a governess?”
Some unidentifiable emotion flickered in her eyes, but she kept her stance proud. “I was quite grief-stricken when my father died, and not at all ready to wed. Harold understands that. And he understands the necessity of working to support oneself, having done so himself.”
Alex was willing to bet Wetherby would happily live off another’s largess, given the opportunity. But that was not his main concern.
“Ah. So he does know you’re here.”
She hesitated.
The game was up.
“Elizabeth? The truth, if you please.”
She looked away, her posture so rigid that, especially in the moonlight, she could have been made of marble.
“All right. If you must know, Harold does not know my new location,” she murmured.
“And you wish to keep it that way,” he surmised. She’d rather toil in obscurity than marry that cretin. It was a decision few of her sex would make, but one he could respect.
“You won’t say anything to him, will you?” she pled, stepping closer and placing one hand on his jacket. There was real fear in her voice.
He placed his hand over hers. Wetherby was more of a bastard than he’d thought, if he frightened her so. Alex gentled his tone. “No. I will say nothing.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. She made a tiny motion to withdraw her hand, but he held it firm.
“But you must make me a promise in return.”
“My lord?”
“I’ve yet to have a dull encounter with you, Miss Medford. Which sets you apart from most of your female counterparts.”
“Thank you, I suppose,” she answered. Her tongue darted out nervously to wet her lips.
A flash of heat, of pure sensual awareness, passed through him. He released her hand in surprise. “It was indeed intended as a compliment,” he told her.
“But what must I promise you?”
Never taking his gaze from hers, he gave her his most wicked grin. “Stop avoiding me.”
Her features registered surprise. Alex was tempted to kiss away the expression, but settled instead for a light brush of his fingers against her cheek before he strode back to the house. He’d learned what he needed to know—there was no point in scaring her off.
His sojourn in the country had suddenly become far more entertaining. If Elizabeth had the guts to keep that promise.
The Viscountess Grumsby didn’t know it, but she was torturing Elizabeth. The small house party was supposed to last a week. It was the morning of day three, and Elizabeth felt trapped.
She’d been on edge ever since Alex Bainbridge had galloped, literally, back into her life. Blast her awful red hair. But for it, he might not have recognized her so quickly. The moment she’d looked up into those mocking dark eyes, she’d been struck by both embarrassment and longing. This was the man privy to, and in some way responsible for, the most excruciatingly humiliating moment of her life.
And yet one look into that sinfully handsome face, one moment spent observing his obvious caring for his niece and nephew, and Elizabeth was once more lost. Only this time she couldn’t afford to humiliate herself. Her position depended on model behavior.
Decorum. Responsibility and decorum. She’d breached them once in her proposal to Alex, and once more in leaving home. A third indiscretion would surely mean her destruction.
And after their conversation in the garden last night, Elizabeth worried that indiscretion was exactly what the duke had in mind. If only the idea wasn’t so tempting.
If Viscountess Grumsby had any notion of the thoughts Elizabeth harbored toward her brother, she’d be cast out without reference. And while being a governess was not a life of luxury, Elizabeth was content, at least for now. The Grumsby children were sweet-natured and eager to learn and explore. The lord and lady of the house treated her kindly. Her own family had, thus far, left her alone. Eventually, Elizabeth figured, she would come up with a more permanent solution for her future. In the meantime, her governess’s work provided just the haven she needed.
Elizabeth sighed and closed the door to the nursery. She’d just turned the children over to their nurse for a midday meal and rest. The Grumsbys’ guests were gone on an afternoon outing. She could relax.
“I thought I’d never find you alone.”
Elizabeth gasped and turned. Her heart gave a little thud. There, on the stair landing, stood the man she’d just been trying to forget.
“Your Grace.”
“You can be quite evasive, Miss Medford.”
He sounded amused.
Elizabeth kept her gaze about six inches below his chin, unwilling to see the mocking expression she knew he wore. “I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace. My position here keeps me quite busy.”
“You haven’t been avoiding me?”
To answer she’d have to lie or reveal too much, so Elizabeth kept silent. She dared a quick glance upward. The look in his eyes told her he knew.
“Whatever