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“Kelley’s fresh and vibrant romances are emotional, fast-paced and intriguing. Her originality captivates readers and grabs their attention.”
—Romantic Times
Keep reading for a taste of Scandal of the Season!
London, 1807
Her smile attracted him like a beacon on this damp, cold night, drawing Anthony nearer to her warmth. But his friends yanked him away from the beautiful woman selling oranges. The force propelled him into the cobbled street. A hackney veered to the left just in time, preventing Anthony Westfield, Viscount Somerton from obliteration before ever giving his father the one thing he wanted—a proper heir.
Anthony stood and then stumbled back over the cobbles, landing at the woman’s worn brown boots. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had that third, or was it fourth?, glass of brandy. Trey and Nicholas pulled him to his feet.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asked in a small voice. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Her big eyes looked light, possibly blue, in the pale illumination of the moon. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. Whenever he passed this street, she was there with her basket of oranges and a shy smile for him. Every time he saw her, he had felt this pull of attraction to her. She had always favored him with a bright smile, but now her face appeared lined with concern. For him.
“Fine,” he mumbled. “Just a bit too much brandy tonight.”
Her blond eyebrows lowered in what could only be condemnation. She wasn’t the only one who would disapprove of his behavior tonight. Unless he completely sobered up by the time he arrived home, he would catch a severe dressing-down by his father. First gambling, then drinking, and he had an idea of what his friends had in mind next, not exactly proper behavior for the son of an earl. At least in his father’s opinion.
Anthony continued to stare at the woman. He wanted to know her name, discover if the scent of oranges was purely from the fruit she sold or if it permeated her skin. Yet once again, his friends pulled him away from her, this time gentler.
“Good night, fair lady,” he said as they dragged him away from her.
“Good night, sir.” The light sound of her musical voice carried to his ears.
“No more drooling over a woman who isn’t about to give you what you want,” Nicholas said with a slight slur to his voice. “And we’re not about to let you swive some poor innocent.” He turned his head and smirked at them both. “One of you should have some experience.”
Trey and Nicholas led him around the corner to a house on Maddox Street. After a very successful evening of gambling, his two friends had accomplished the not so difficult task of getting Anthony foxed. Perhaps they knew it was the only way to convince him to come with them. He looked up at the house and shook his head. As
a man entered the building, the sound of merriment filled the air.
“Where are we?” Anthony asked, knowing their likely location.
“Lady Whitely has the cleanest girls in town,” Trey replied.
The women might claim to be clean, but the last thing Anthony needed was a woman to give him a disease, or worse, a bastard. His father would never forgive him for that dishonor.
“I should be getting home.”
Nicholas only laughed. “Don’t be nervous, Anthony. We all have to have our first time sometime.”
Trey joined in the chortling. “I can’t believe you still haven’t . . .”
But Anthony hadn’t. His father had warned him about the unclean prostitutes around Eton and in town. As the heir to the earldom, Anthony had a responsibility to lead a clean life, marry when the time was right and have his own heir. Besides, Father had been through enough with Mother dying in a carriage accident when Anthony was only ten and his sister only two. Attempting to live up to his father’s wishes was the least he could do. Or at least try.
“I really need to go,” Anthony tried again. But his friends wouldn’t release their tight grip on his forearms.
“Not this time,” Trey said. “Lady Whitely will find you the perfect girl. After all the money you won tonight, I would say you could afford any woman you want. But go for experience.”
Paying for a woman seemed completely wicked and morally wrong. Women like that only went down the wrong path because they had nothing else. They had no one else.
“I just don’t think this is a good—”
“This is a good idea. A very good idea,” Nicholas interrupted. “One of Lady Whitely’s ladies will teach you exactly what a man needs to know before he takes a wife.”
Anthony frowned. He knew the rudiments of the act, how much more was there to it. “I’m not planning on taking a wife for a few years. And I still—”
“Too late, we’re already here,” Trey said with a laugh.
They pulled Anthony up the steps, opened the black lacquer door and pushed him into the front hallway. He almost tripped and fell onto the black and white checkered marble floor. Luckily, Nicholas caught him.
