Free The Book Of Scandal by Julia London Page A

Evelyn’s resentments and fears and hurts had nailed her heart firmly closed.
    “You can’t avoid Eastchurch forever,” Nathan said a bit curtly.
    “You obviously don’t understand, Nathan. This isn’t merely about missing him,” she said bitterly. “It’s about you, too. You are a roué. You’d rather hunt and…and cat about. We were never really meant for one another.”
    She could feel him stiffen. “And you would rather carp, is that it?”
    No, that wasn’t it at all, but her inability to explain herself clearly had always been her failure with Nathan. She wouldn’t try now, and turned her head and bit her lower lip against the tears that burned the back of her eyelids.
    “Perhaps,” he said shortly, “your journey to Perdition might be hastened along to its conclusion if you tell me why you might be involved in the scandal surrounding the prince.”
    “I’ve told you, I don’t know why.”
    “When was the last time you were in the prince’s company?” Nathan pressed.
    “Several times of late,” Evelyn said irritably. “But what does it matter? You know as well as I that the prince surrounds himself with dozens of people. The last time I was in his company, a pageant was performed in his apartments,” she admitted. “It was really awful, about a large woman who made love to a variety of men, and then…” Evelyn frowned as she recalled the vulgarity of that pageant.
    “And then?”
    “And then she…the woman produced a doll as if she’d just given birth. It was very distasteful, but the prince laughed.”
    Nathan seemed not to think much of it. “Did you overhear any talk? Did you speak to him?”
    She shook her head. “I conversed with Mrs. Fitzherbert most of the night, actually about nothing more exciting than a new modiste in London. I rarely spoke to the prince directly, and even then, only in passing.”
    “I see,” Nathan said, but Evelyn could tell from the timbre of his voice he didn’t see at all. He didn’t believe her. That pricked at her, and she tried to move away, but Nathan held her close. “Stay warm. You’ll catch your death of cold—”
    The sudden shouts startled them both; the coach rumbled to an awkward halt. “What is it?” Evelyn asked.
    Nathan leaned up and glanced out the window.
    “Highwaymen, my lord!” the driver called down.
    “Damnation,” Nathan uttered. “We’re being robbed.”
    “What?” Evelyn cried, rousing Frances from his sleep.
    The coach suddenly began to rock; there was quite a lot of shouting, and then the coach was still. “Everyone step out!” someone outside shouted.
    Evelyn’s first thought was Frances, who was scrambling to sit up and look out the window.
    “Stand back, Frances,” Nathan said sternly as he lifted his trouser leg and withdrew a pistol from his boot.
    “Nathan!” Evelyn exclaimed as she moved to sit next to Frances and gather him in her arms. “What are you about to do?”
    He responded by taking aim at the door, then leaning back and kicking the door open with his foot at almost the same moment he fired. The next moment, he had vaulted out the door.
    Evelyn’s basic instinct to survive propelled her to the floor of the coach with Frances, her body on top of his. Men were shouting and several more shots were fired from what sounded like a variety of guns. Frances twisted out from beneath her and peered out the open door, but Evelyn pulled him back from the opening.
    Within moments, it was over. The robbers had fled into the woods, one of them clinging to the pommel of his saddle, shot in the side, as eagerly reported by Frances.
    Frances escaped Evelyn and leapt from the coach when one of the coachmen called “all clear.” Evelyn reluctantly followed him.
    The Lindsey men seemed all accounted for, milling about, clapping one another on the shoulder. Frances was squatting next to several dark drops of blood. “Milord! You shot one of them!” he said excitedly.
    “It would seem that I did,”