Free Scandal of the Season by Christie Kelley

gravelly as if he had just awakened.
    She turned her head and glanced over at him. His sleepy eyes had opened slightly as he stared at her. Her heart raced at the sight of the handsome man. “I was only looking outside.”
    “Why?”
    She broke away from his stare and looked out the window again. “I have never been this far from London.”
    “Never?” he asked in an incredulous tone.
    “No,” she replied with a shrug.
    “But we are barely out of town.”
    “Still, farther than I have been.”
    He chuckled softly. “I am truly amazed. I have traveled all my life so I must admit I assumed everyone did the same.”
    “You think my life is funny?” Indignation rose up in her. How dare the man laugh at her life?
    “No,” he said quietly. “I think it’s rather sad.”
    “Lovely,” she said, looking over at him again. “Now, I’m just the object of your pity.”
    “The only thing you are the object of in my mind is…”
    “Is?” she pressed when he left the sentence unfinished.
    “Nothing,” he said roughly. “The only thing you are here for is to pretend to be my mistress.”
    “Why a pretend mistress, Somerton?” She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “I find it difficult to believe that you would have any issues finding a real one.”
    “I do not need the complications of a real mistress this week. I need a woman who will play her part and not get some foolish notion in her head that I will change for her.” His intense gaze burned through her. “I will not. Do we understand each other?”
    “Perfectly. You want no commitment or attachments of a sensual nature.” And if she believed that to be true, why was there such tension in the carriage? Why when he looked over at her did her heart race?
    The next few minutes passed slowly. She returned to viewing the scenery and attempting to ignore him, while Somerton sat across from her with a scowl.
    “How did you go from selling oranges to taking in children?” he asked, breaking the stifling silence. “The amount you stole from me wouldn’t have given you enough to lease a home for more than a few months.”
    Victoria shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about? I never stole any money from you.”
    “The money I won gambling that night. It was gone and so were you.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest as disappointment filled her. “So you just assumed I took it.”
    “You knew I had won some money. It was in my pocket when we were talking. Later it was gone. Why would I think otherwise? I never faulted you. After what had happened, I assumed you took your due.”
    He thought she was nothing more than a whore. “You were drunk that night. You were asleep when I left you and the money at the church. Someone probably came by and stole it from you after I left.”
    He looked away from her as he tightened his jaw. “Perhaps,” he admitted softly.
    “Why would you believe me?” she mumbled, shaking her head. Why would he? She’d been nothing but an orange seller who gave herself to a man on the street like a prostitute. And of course, she had pinched a necklace from his pocket. She wouldn’t have believed her either.
    “I said, perhaps. But even you would have to admit that I have just cause in believing you stole the money.”
    “It really does not matter.” Although, it did matter to her. Most of her life she’d done the wrong thing, but that time, she hadn’t. And it mattered to her.
    She turned away and stared out the window knowing she would never be the type of woman whom he could trust. And she wondered why she should care what he thought of her. Her position here was only to play a part, like an actress on a stage.
    “You never did answer my question,” he said in a quiet tone.
    Frowning, she glanced back at him. “What question was that?”
    “How did you go from selling oranges to taking in children?”
    She closed her eyes and fought back the tears. The promise she had made ten years ago had never