Nothing But Scandal. Allegra GrayЧитать онлайн книгу.
Alex knew he had a reputation, but all his affairs had been with widowed or otherwise independent women. Well, there had been that one unfortunate incident in his youth, but in that case, the young lady in question had actually been teaching him a thing or two, so he could hardly be blamed for her ruin. He knew how the ton gossiped, though.
To tell the truth, it bothered him. He’d have preferred Elizabeth held him in higher regard, if she was going to think of him at all. In spite of her family, he’d been attracted to her refreshing wit. But once again, his judgment failed him whenever the Medfords were involved.
Some men would consider ruining Medford’s daughter the perfect revenge, or, as the feckless baron himself had suggested, an appropriate repayment of debt, but Alex was not one of them. There was no satisfaction to be had in getting revenge on a dead man.
If anything, he pitied Elizabeth. Because of her father’s reckless management, she now suffered. He’d not failed to notice her brief mention of an unwanted engagement.
His pity, however, did not extend to the point that he was willing to become personally involved. In fact, he’d promised not to.
Alex blew out a breath. Fortunes were made and lost all the time, and Elizabeth’s was certainly not the first noble family to find themselves on the outs.
What would the chit have done if he’d said yes? He grinned at the idea. He’d been tempted enough. Her wildly colored hair, her slim curves, and her defiant bravery held definite appeal.
No doubt she’d have tried to back out at the last minute.
Unless, he speculated, she was using him.
Perhaps she was foolish enough to believe that if he “ruined” her, as she’d so boldly offered, he’d be forced to offer for her in return. Perhaps her father had even planted the scheme in her head before his demise. It was a far more daring approach than the coquettish looks he endured from dozens of other hopeful misses, but he was not so easily fooled. And there was nothing Alex hated more than being used.
He ground a heel into the dirt, then strode down the path that would take him out of the park.
She had his reluctant admiration for her daring, but Elizabeth Medford’s problems were her own.
“Elizabeth, a word with you,” Lady Medford said, accosting her daughter the moment she stepped through the door to their town house. Charity, whom Elizabeth had rejoined at the park before seeking the sanctuary of home, heard their mother’s tone and disappeared like mist in the wind, leaving Elizabeth to fend for herself.
All Elizabeth really wanted to do was run to her room and hide her mortification under her bedcovers, but instead she schooled her features into a polite expression. “Mother.”
Lady Medford started down the hall, and Elizabeth resignedly followed, dragging her feet over the polished wood floors. They entered the salon, a room decorated in delicate shades of rose—a room Elizabeth had always found completely uncharacteristic of her mother.
Lady Medford turned and faced her daughter like a general dressing down a private. “It has come to my attention that you were seen dancing with the Duke of Beaufort.”
Elizabeth stifled a groan. The duke was the last person she wanted to talk about right now.
“Yes, at the Peasleys’ ball,” she answered cautiously. Her mother had chosen not to attend, pleading a headache. Elizabeth had been chaperoned instead by Lady Tanner—an older lady of venerable reputation, who would surely exact a favor in return for having performed the duty of chaperone, in spite of having performed said duty in a rather lax fashion. Just one more thing Elizabeth had to look forward to.
“Is he pursuing you?”
Elizabeth’s attention snapped back to her mother. “I don’t believe so.” She nearly choked on the understatement. Beaufort had made it abundantly clear how little intention he had of “pursuing” her.
“Good. I think it would be best if you did not get involved with him.”
Now Elizabeth was truly confused, for Lady Medford’s statement surely qualified her as the only mama in the entire ton who didn’t want her daughter pursued by the extremely wealthy, handsome, and eligible Duke of Beaufort.
Reminding herself her mother had no idea of what had actually just transpired, she replied, “Mother, I assure you there was nothing untoward; it was merely a dance.”
“Nonetheless, the man has a reputation. Why, he’s practically predatory. Any involvement with him is likely to end in disappointment on your part.”
Well, that much was true. But since when did Lady Medford care about her daughter’s hopes getting crushed? That would be a new development in their relationship—if it was true.
“Also, I don’t believe your father would have approved.”
Elizabeth looked up sharply. Her mother had meticulously avoided unnecessary mention of her father since his death, so why would she bring him up now? None of this made any sense.
It really didn’t matter whether her father would have approved, given that she would not be seen consorting with the duke again any time soon. He’d made that abundantly clear.
“It’s all right, Mother. I’ve no hopes of snaring the duke’s hand,” she said in a tightly controlled voice.
“Right.” Her mother sniffed. “Very well, then.” She sniffed again. “I believe this room needs airing. The servants are becoming intolerably slack in their duties.”
Elizabeth kept her mouth shut. The servants weren’t becoming slack. They were leaving. They knew as well as anyone that her father had died with no heir and considerable debt. Slowly but surely they were finding employ in other, more stable, noble homes. If her mother chose not to recognize that, Elizabeth wasn’t going to be the one to point it out. She turned to go, assuming her mother’s change of topic meant she’d been dismissed.
“No, don’t leave. You have a caller.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly. Could her day get any worse? First that humiliating and unsuccessful scene at the park. And now, when she wanted nothing more than a moment’s peace, she had to entertain. And to what purpose? Her mother would announce her engagement in mere hours, and Elizabeth had run out of ideas for avoiding it.
“Wetherby is waiting in the drawing room. I wanted to be certain you had no foolish yearnings for Beaufort before I sent you in to see him. But I see that, in this matter at least, you are a sensible girl.”
Elizabeth cringed. She’d been wrong. Talking about the Duke of Beaufort was infinitely preferable to talking to Harold Wetherby. At least her mother hadn’t seen her “sensible” daughter’s behavior thirty minutes ago.
“We can afford to wait no longer, Elizabeth,” her mother told her. “Wetherby’s lack of title may be lamentable, but his income is not. I’ve given him every reason to expect his suit will be accepted, though of course he’ll want to hear it from you as well.”
Elizabeth nodded woodenly. Yes, her day could definitely get worse. Her plan may have failed, but she was not yet ready to face her volatile cousin.
“Yes, Mother. I’ll be in to see him as soon as I’ve had a moment to tidy my appearance.” Her mother was a stickler for propriety, so Elizabeth knew she would approve of the short delay. One did not meet one’s future husband looking mussed from the outdoors.
The baroness nodded. “I’ll have the butler give him your message. Don’t dawdle.”
Fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth entered the drawing room, having dawdled only a little. The panicked whispers she’d shared with Charity had given her no new inspiration.
Her unwanted soon-to-be fiancé stood by the window, tapping his expensively shod foot. He did not look especially pleased to see her.
“Harold.”