Free The Summer of Wine and Scandal: A Novella by Shana Galen Page A

just a girl.
    “I met him on a day like today. Sunny and warm, a perfect day for a fair. We went to the fair, the same one Hemshawe hosts every year.” She could still smell the scent of baking bread and sweet corn and underneath it the straw lining the pens of the animals being shown. She’d spent most of the morning by her parents’ sides, admiring the sheep and cows and pigs, eating too many sweet pies, and clapping with joy at the jugglers and other performers.
    Her brother introduced her to the man. She was sixteen, and he was closer to Matthew’s age at one and twenty. “I don’t remember how my brother met him. Perhaps they had a mutual friend, or they’d done business together in London. My father and brother travel to Town a few times a year to deliver wine to merchants and settle accounts.”
    Lochley nodded, encouraging her to continue.
    “My parents must have thought that because he knew Matthew, he was acceptable. They were ready to return home, but I begged to be able to stay at the fair with my brother and enjoy the music that night. They agreed, instructing me to stay close to Matthew.”
    “But this man managed to separate you from your brother. He wanted you alone,” Lochley said, voice tight.
    She’d almost forgotten he was there. “Yes, that’s right.”
    “I’ve heard this story before,” he said. “Not yours, in particular, but I know how it goes. He separates you, plies you with gifts and sweet words, tells you he loves you, and then begs you to run away with him.”
    She blinked back tears. “You must think me horribly naïve.”
    “I think you horribly brave. You escaped and came back home. You’ve held your head high, and that’s more than I can say for most. Tell me what happened when you reached London.”
    “I had no money. I’d had to spend it on the journey.”
    “Of course. He said his blunt was in London, and when you arrived you’d have everything you desired. Did he take you to the bawdy house right away?”
    “No.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to say the rest of it. “He took me to his flat, where I met his wife, or at least a woman who claimed to be his wife. Now I’m sure it was an act they’d perfected, but she came out screaming at me and accusing me of stealing her husband. They made an awful scene. People had gathered on the street to watch. So many people.” She remembered the grimy faces and the open mouths as they mocked her.
    “You’d never been to London.” He really had heard her story before.
    “No. I didn’t know where I was. I have cousins in Town, but I didn’t know where they live. I had nowhere to go and no coin. David—that was his name—told me he just needed a day or two to sort things out. The woman wasn’t his wife at all, just a jealous former lover. He would send her on her way and come for me. Then we’d marry and be happy. He knew a nice woman, his aunt, who ran a lodging house. I’d be safe there.”
    She supposed he knew the rest of the story. She’d gone willingly into the devil’s lair. The woman, a Mrs. Nicholson, hadn’t been David’s aunt but the owner of The Pleasure Den. Later, Caro realized she probably paid David to deliver young girls to her.
    “I never saw David again.”
    “How long before you realized Mrs. Nicholson was a bawd?”
    “Not long. She sold me to a wealthy man whose taste ran to virgins. He raped me that first night.”
    She saw his fists clench at his sides and could feel his suppressed anger. Once, she’d felt that same anger, but it had since faded. She didn’t want to taste bitterness every morning. Little by little, she’d laid down her anger and hurt and pain and made the decision to forgive herself for her mistakes. Perhaps one day she’d even forgive David and Mrs. Nicholson and all the men like Mutton Chops.
    “I wanted to run away—”
    “You don’t have to explain to me.”
    She gave him a wan smile. “Perhaps I explain for me. I wanted to run away, but I