Nothing But Scandal by Allegra Gray Page A

unimpeachable reputation, sir.”
    “It was not so long ago you were more amenable to being ruined. May I point out that my offer is actually much better?”
    She shrugged. “Obviously I was a bit desperate when I succumbed to such thoughts. Luckily I came to my senses and found something more stable. If I were your mistress, I would be in constant danger of losing my position, for your interest in me would soon wane.” The string of mistresses he’d left behind was legendary. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Then where would I be?”
    He brushed aside that argument with a wave of his hand. “You underestimate yourself.”
    He was flattering her, but she steeled her will. “I cannot know that for sure, Your Grace. Better I look after my reputation.”
    “Still, you are attracted to me.”
    The confidence in his voice made her want to smack him. Of course, it was true, and he knew it. “That’s hardly the point.”
    “Then why did you kiss me in the library?”
    He had her there. She could point out that he’d initiated said kiss, but they both knew how she’d responded.
    “You don’t need to decide now.” He stood. “I’ll pick you up at two o’clock tomorrow. We’ll go driving in the country.” His features softened for a moment. “My carriage will be devoid of insignia—you needn’t fear being seen.”
    “You’ll be wasting your time, Your Grace,” she told him, though her voice lacked conviction. “I won’t come.”
    He gave her a tolerant smile. “Oh, I think you will.”
    She studied the ground. He knew her too well.
    He pressed a kiss to her hand as he left. “I shall be counting the hours.”
    Elizabeth remained on the garden bench, desire warring with her trepidation. She stared blankly at the volume of poetry she’d brought outdoors. There was no way she could read it now.
     
    Alex rubbed his temples and stared at the letter on the desk. Upon returning from the garden, he’d found a pile of correspondence waiting for him. His secretary had thoughtfully gathered it for delivery to the Grumsby estate, knowing his master was not one to let business linger.
    Alex momentarily wished the secretary was slack in his duties, for he had no desire to see this particular letter.
    Even after death, the Baron Medford continued to be a thorn in his side.
    He was well aware the man had died still owing him a considerable debt. In fact, this letter didn’t address the half of it—most “gentleman’s debts” were never recorded. Alex was mildly surprised to learn the scoundrel had kept track at all. Now, Medford’s solicitor had sent a letter explaining the status of the estate after his death. To put it succinctly, there was no estate.
    Alex tore the letter in two. Disgusting. Men in Medford’s situation had no business gambling. He’d frittered away a respectable, if not especially large, fortune on “investments” that amounted to little more than outright gambling, then worsened the matter with his actual gaming.
    Trying to recover the funds would be futile. At this point, Alex would be content simply never to be reminded again of his connection to Lord Medford.
    Medford’s daughter, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.
    Elizabeth baffled him. When he’d offered her the position of mistress, he’d done so, at least in part, just to see her reaction. And she’d surprised him. He’d had her pegged as a schemer, but what was she after? One minute she melted passionately in his arms, the next, primly informed him she preferred a respectable life of near-poverty to the pampering she would receive under his protection. Why?
    That wild mane of red hair belonged spread across a pillow—preferably his—not tucked up under a governess’s cap. He’d lost precious hours of sleep imagining where that kiss could have led.
    But he’d made a promise to dissociate himself from any further involvement with anyone bearing the name of Medford. That promise had driven him to turn down