A Proper Scandal by Charis Michaels Read Free Book Online Page A

me now.” He scanned the bridge. “These are farmers mostly, headed to market . . . setting up stalls for the morning crush. We’ll keep our heads down. Make quick work of it. We can easily be on the other side in a quarter hour.”
    She nodded but held back, waiting for him to lead.
    â€œRight,” he said, and he shoved off the ledge toward the bridge. She hurried after him and then surprised him by grabbing his hand. Her grip was warm and firm and . . . familiar, as if he’d been holding her hand all of his life. He was unaccustomed to being touched by anyone and certainly not by a girl, but it was surprisingly easy to clasp back, to gently lead her. He grew surer of their safety and direction with every step.
    She let out a shaky sigh when they descended the steps on the opposite bank, and he said, “It won’t be far now,” but he didn’t let go of her hand. The sun was beginning to warm the horizon, and birds called from deep inside the leafy canopy of the street. They walked toward Westminster. He held her hand.
    When they neared Green Park, he said, “It will be daylight soon. People will see us . . . servants making preparations for the day. Grosvenor Square is just a handful of blocks away. I wouldn’t want you to appear suspicious to the other staff who work with your aunt.” He cleared his throat. “That is, the focus should be on your wound and reunion and not who the devil I may be.”
    She dropped his hand, just like that. He looked down at it his empty palm, fighting the urge to take a step closer.
    â€œI should like to walk alone from here,” she said, staring across the park.
    â€œI didn’t mean to dismiss you,” he said. Now he took the closer step. “I have every intention of seeing you the rest of the way. I’m simply trying to . . . ” he trailed off, frustrated. He had no idea what he was trying to do.
    â€œI know the way,” she said. “You have been more than kind. You needn’t trouble yourself. As you said, you must find your way back to school.”
    â€œYes,” he agreed, a reflex.
    She backed away from him. “Thank you so much. Godspeed to you.”
    And then she turned her back and jogged a diagonal path across the park.
    â€œMay I—” he called after her, but then he stopped.
    He ran a few steps to be heard and started again. “I will inquire after your health on my next holiday. I should like to know that you’ve been looked after.”
    â€œPlease do not follow me,” she called over her shoulder.
    â€œOf course,” he mumbled to himself, watching as she grew smaller and smaller in the distance. When a milk cart passed between her silhouette and his view, he lost sight of her altogether.
    She was gone.

C HAPTER F OUR
    E lisabeth darted into the servant’s stairwell and whipped the door shut on her aunt’s party.
    Bryson Courtland.
    Bryson Courtland stood not ten yards from her, on the other side of the door.
    In her aunt’s entry hall.
    Sipping wine from a goblet. Staring at her.
    Oh, God . After all this time. She closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth, willing her breathing to settle.
    But how had he—
    And then she realized. Bryson Courtland was Viscount Rainsleigh now. He was the viscount her aunt had invited to her party. He was the bachelor lord with all the money, the benefactor, the charity prize, the new house in town. It was for him Lillian had cajoled Elisabeth to attend tonight.
    She stared at the closed door, her heart pounding.
    Bryson Courtland. Here. Staring at her.
    Recognizing her.
    Fifteen years reconvened in the blink of an eye. The last time he’d seen her, she had been all of fifteen years old, terrified, out of her mind with grief.
    Meanwhile, he was . . .
    Well, he looked very much the same as he did now. Less wiry as a full-grown man. Broader chest. Thicker.
    He was still—
    â€œWhat’s happened