Free Scandal of the Season by Christie Kelley Page A

been difficult to keep…until now.
    “How do you think I did it?” she asked, staring at him until he looked away.
    “The easy way,” he muttered with a sound of disgust.
    Victoria bit down on her tongue to hold in the truth until she felt the metallic taste of blood. She wished she could tell him the truth. After living a lie for ten years, it would be nice to unburden herself to another person. The urge to tell him overwhelmed her, but she could not give into it. What he thought of her could not matter.
    “A true lady would deny it,” he whispered.
    “I’m not a true lady and never will be,” she retorted.
     

    Anthony fisted his hands and fought back the anger at what she had become. Quite possibly, what he had made her become. Perhaps if he had never touched her, she would have continued to sell oranges until she could have gone into service for a reputable family. Where the master of the house would have taken her, he thought with disgust.
    Instead, she’d sold her luscious body to any man who would have her. And worse, he would have been the first in line had he known where she’d stayed. He blamed himself for her misfortune, although he knew it wasn’t entirely his fault. She could have asked him to help her.
    But after what he’d been through that night, he doubted he would have done anything for her. His trust of women had been shattered. They were all out for themselves.
    So why did it matter what had happened to this slip of a girl?
    Because what he had done linked them for the rest of their lives. He owed her a debt he could never repay with money. And as much as he desired forgiveness, he would never have it. Nor did he deserve it.
    If only he could understand why he craved to know more about her. He desired to understand her more, to get to know her better. And worse, he wanted her. The one woman he could never have again was the one he wanted unlike any other. The silence in the carriage was causing him to think about dangerous things.
    “Victoria,” he said to break the silence, “tell me about your parents.”
    She whipped her head toward him with a scowl. “There is nothing to tell. My father worked as a baker until he died when I was three. My mother did what she had to until an illness took her when I was seven.”
    “Who took you in after that?”
    “The woman upstairs.” She glanced down at her shoes peeking out from the blanket.
    “And she was the person who made you sell oranges?”
    “Mrs. Perkins did what she had to.”
    “Which was?”
    “She taught me to pick pockets to bring enough money in to support her,” she whispered. “I had to do it or she would have forced me to leave.”
    “What kind of heartless woman would let a young girl out on the streets to make money for her?” The desire to kick something surged in him.
    Victoria laughed scornfully. “You are not that innocent, Somerton. You know what happens to young girls who are left on the streets. Picking pockets was my salvation. And I was good at it. I had a warm place to stay and food to eat. Most of the boys and girls who picked pockets would have killed for what I had.”
    He knew too well what became of most of those young girls because his mother exploited them. “Why didn’t you come to me for assistance after…?”
    She folded her arms over her chest. “After? The only thing I knew about you was that your name was Tony. How exactly was I supposed to seek you out?”
    “I don’t know,” he whispered. He could remember so little of that night. After his mother’s return from death, he’d been blinded by anger and then brandy. Even after nine years of knowing why she’d done it, the frustration surged within him for the deception.
    “Why is my life so important to you?”
    “It most certainly is not. I am merely curious about what you have been doing the past ten years and making conversation to pass the time.”
    “I have been taking care of orphaned children. Nothing more.”
    “And picking