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“YOU HAVE A LOVELY SMILE…
…although,” he mused, fingering the plain gray fabric of her gown, then lightly touching the hair she’d scraped into a tight bun, “I did prefer your appearance as a young lady of the ton.”
Elizabeth did not have time to be offended at the implied insult, for he continued in that thoughtful tone. “Odd, isn’t it, how in Society women strive to appear soft and inviting, when underneath they are hard and brittle? Yet you, as a warm-hearted governess, are expected to appear utterly proper, even drab.”
“I’m sure that is appropriate for a governess,” she replied primly, though his lingering touch on her hair sent little flutters throughout her body.
This was wrong. But she was powerless to stop him.
“Perhaps.” His hand covered hers again. “But it makes me wonder…what would happen if I pulled those pins from your hair? Would I have a woman before me who was soft and warm both inside and out?”
Nothing But Scandal
ALLEGRA GRAY
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
To Miles and Alexis,
who still believe in fairy tales
(and hopefully always will)
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Megan Records, my editor at Kensington, for your enthusiasm and flexibility. Also thank you to my agent, Kevan Lyon, for valuable input on this book and for finding it a home.
A special thank you to Donnell Bell, Robin Searle, and Tracy Seybold, my fellow writers and critique partners. Without your insight, brainstorming, and encouragement, this book would not have been possible.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter One
London, April 1814
Family expectations—and the guilt that came with not living up to them—were going to be the death of Elizabeth Medford.
Given that her father, Baron James Medford, had hardly been a bastion of familial responsibility himself, having amassed a mountain of gaming debts prior to his untimely death, it seemed unfair that the remaining members of the family should expect that she, Elizabeth, would salvage them by marrying Harold Wetherby. Her third cousin might have a respectable income, but the memory of Harold’s sweaty hands pawing her at a picnic when she’d been a mere fourteen years old was enough to convince her she simply could not, could not marry him.
And since she’d otherwise been a resounding failure in the marriage mart, Elizabeth had devised a new plan—one to be implemented that very morning.
The moment breakfast was over, she’d hastily ushered her younger sister, Charity, and their maid, Emma, out the door of the Medford town house and into Hyde Park for a stroll, ignoring her sister’s nonstop stream of questions as they readied themselves.
They’d been in the park no more than a minute before Charity faced Elizabeth and thrust out her chin. “Now will you tell me what’s going on? If you continue to tease me this way, I shall simply perish.” She placed a melodramatic hand to her heart.
Elizabeth glanced behind them. Emma, acting as chaperone, trailed discreetly, close enough to keep up appearances but not to overhear conversation.
“All right. For the past weeks we’ve thought of only one thing: getting a man, any man but Harold, to propose marriage to me. Now that we’re out of full mourning for father, Uncle and Mother are anxious to accept his suit. I am running out of excuses to delay. But perhaps there is another way out of this after all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Think. What does Harold stand to gain from marrying me?”
“Your connections. He wants respect, social advancement, obviously.” Charity raised an eyebrow, making it clear she thought Elizabeth was cracking under the strain if she believed this was new food for thought.
“Exactly,” Elizabeth confirmed with glee.
“I don’t see where this is going.”
“I don’t want to marry Harold, right? Well, we were thinking I’d need a better offer in order to get out of it. But I don’t. I simply need him to withdraw his offer.”
“But what would make him do that? He already knows about father’s financial situation, and even that miserable fiasco didn’t make him cry off,” Charity pointed out.
“No, it didn’t, because, poor or not, I am still a respectable member of the ton.”
Charity’s eyes widened. “Ooohh. Elizabeth, I’m not sure I like what I think you’re thinking.”
Elizabeth ignored her. “If I were no longer respectable, if I were, say, ruined, Harold would withdraw!” She nearly tripped over a root on the path in her excitement over the idea.
“It’s wonderfully daring,” Charity conceded, not looking quite so pleased. “But how would you do it? And, oh, think what Mother and Uncle would do! They’d toss you out for certain. You’d be disowned, dishonored. Where would you go?” She tugged at her hair, an old habit and a sure sign of her concern.
“I could work for a living, I suppose.” Elizabeth bit her lip, aware her plan had more bravado than substance.
