Scandal of the Season (7 page)

“I’m sorry, Victoria,” Lady Whitely murmured. “I would tell you more if I could but I cannot. Please just take my advice with this man.”

“Lady Whitely, I owe you everything and more. If you ask me not to see Lord Somerton, then I shall do my best not to. I cannot help if he is at a function of one of my friends. But I will not encourage him.”

Lady Whitely rose and walked toward the small fireplace. “If only that would stop him. Once he decides on a woman, he will do everything in his power to have her. I should hate to see you become his mistress, Victoria.”

She hated lying to her but had no choice in the matter. Lady Whitely must not discover her plans for next week.

“Lady Whitely, I will never be Lord Somerton’s mistress. Or any other man’s for that matter. I have eight children to care for. When would I find the time?” she said with a laugh.

Lady Whitely laughed softly. “Very true, my dear. They keep you very busy.” She sat back down on the sofa and finally smiled at Victoria. “How is she?”

“She is very well.”

Lady Whitely looked toward the door wistfully. “I saw her a week ago from my window. She is becoming so grown-up.”

“And more beautiful every day. When the time is right, I will find a sponsor for her. She deserves a Season and a man who will treat her well.” Victoria hoped Avis or Jennette would sponsor the child when the time came. If not, she had no idea how to accomplish such a thing. But it did not matter right now. She had to get everyone ready for her week away.

And pray Lady Whitely didn’t discover with whom she was going.

Victoria sat back against the comfortable carriage seat and sighed. She’d never been away from the children and would miss them terribly. Leaving them this morning had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. All of them had tears in their eyes and made her promise she would return before Christmas.

Thankfully, Somerton had found a very suitable woman to come in and assist Maggie to keep the children under control. They could survive one week without her. Or at least Victoria tried to tell herself that.

They had driven for about an hour and other than a brief comment, the man across from her was silent. Perhaps he had many things on his mind. Although, as she looked over at him, his eyes were shuttered tight and his breathing even as if he slept. She had no idea how he could sleep in a moving carriage.

Then again, Somerton had probably left London before, unlike her. Victoria tucked the fur robe over her shoulder and glanced out the window. The buildings of London were now in the distance and ahead lay fields of white from the light falling snow. A few small houses and inns were coming into sight but mostly the scenery held her captive.

Excitement filled her as they drove farther away from the only place she had ever known. Her mind bounced with curiosity about the estate to which they traveled. She had heard some descriptions of Lord Selby’s estates from Avis, but Victoria could never imagine the enormity of it all. Having grown up in squalor, her very modest home on Maddox Street seemed huge.

“What are you thinking about?” Somerton’s voice sounded 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 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 pockets when the mood strikes you,” he added.

“No, only when money is short,” she retorted.

“So what will you do with the money you get from this little job?”

She glanced out the window with a wistful look on her face. “Give the children a proper Christmas with gifts and a large meal and nice clothes to wear for church.”

The woman was nothing but contradictions. She stole from people but apparently only to help the children in her care. Now when given the chance to walk away from her responsibilities, she only wanted to give more to the children.

Anthony turned his attention to the window and the passing scenery. Something about this nagged at his brain. How did a woman with no means keep a home for orphans based solely on her pickpocket abilities? She
was
good. Nonetheless, the odds of being caught were always high, and pawned goods never paid near what they were worth.

So where did the money come from? The only way he knew for a woman to make the amount of money she would need to keep that house was prostitution. Not just prostitution but being some wealthy man’s mistress. Was that possible? Could Victoria have a man who supported her?

He couldn’t very well ask her that question. And who was he to judge her? His life had hardly been perfect. Women had a much harder lot in life especially if they didn’t have a man to support them. Career options were rather limited.

Still, the idea that she let any man with the blunt have her made his stomach roil. She deserved far better than that. Perhaps the money he paid her would help her become free of her latest protector. If she even wanted that freedom, his mind countered.

She appeared to be a mass of contradictions. He couldn’t help his curiosity about her. If she truly had a protector, they must be very secretive; otherwise, her friends might discover the matter. Perhaps her friends assisted her with money for the orphans.

“Victoria, how did you come to be associated with your friends?”

She glanced over at him coldly, and for a moment, he thought she would refuse to answer. Looking down her hands, a small smile lifted her lips and creased small dimples in her cheeks.

“I met Avis at the lending library.”

“You can read, then.”

“Yes, I learned when I was eighteen,” she replied in a proud tone.

He stored that information away for later. While she seemed happy to know how to read, the fact that she was that age meant something.

“Avis and I wanted to read the same book.” She turned her head toward him. “We ended up talking and then she invited me to her home for a literary salon to discuss the book.”

“Indeed?”

She laughed softly. “I never felt so out of place in my life. But Avis, Jennette, and Elizabeth engaged me in the conversation and invited me back the next month. When they discovered I ran the home for orphans and, like them, had no desire for marriage, they started to invite me for tea. Before long, we all became fast friends.”

“But the three of them are married now,” he reminded her.

“True, but only after they found their perfect match.”

Or the person Sophie thought was their perfect match, he thought. “I am glad you found such good friends.”

She smiled at him fully, causing his heart to increase its beat.

“Thank you,” she said in a shy tone.

The carriage slowed to a stop and Victoria looked at him with a frown. “Why are we stopping now? It’s far too soon to be at Farleigh’s home.”

A groomsman knocked on the carriage door. “My lord, a moment if you please?”

“Of course,” Anthony answered.

The groomsman opened the door and snow swirled about him. “The driver says the weather is getting worse. He recommends we stop a few miles up the road at an inn.”

“No,” Victoria whispered. “We must get to Farleigh’s home.”

“The party does not really begin until tomorrow night. I would much prefer we make it in one piece.” Anthony turned to the groomsman. “Tell Mr. Chester to do what he believes is best.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Anthony sat back against the squabs and glanced over at her worried face. “Why the sudden hurry to be at Farleigh’s?”

“I have a job to do. I would prefer to do it and be finished,” she retorted.

“And receive your payment.”

She smiled tightly at him. “Exactly. I’m glad to see we understand our positions. I am here only to pretend to be your mistress. Just remember it is nothing more than an act. When we are alone together, our relationship is…is nothing more than employer and employee.”

“I understand perfectly, Miss Seaton. You are my employee and nothing more.”

Victoria took Somerton’s hand and climbed down from the carriage. She had to admit that after four hours in the coach, she needed a break away from him. His presence overwhelmed her in the confining space. And his questions intimidated her.