A Common Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page A

found her curvy little waist. Amelia was magnificent. Amelia was also shamelessly embracing him in the middle of a crowded ballroom. He remembered himself at precisely the same moment Amelia’s father thought to seek her out.
    Nate could hardly forget Josiah Wheeler. When Nate had been a scrawny fifteen-year-old, Wheeler embodied everything he hoped to achieve one day. He’d come from humble origins, too, but through a combination of hard work, ingenuity and luck, he’d made a fortune for himself. Although ten years had passed, it still shocked Nate to find himself taller than the man who’d loomed so large in his childhood. He was probably now richer than him, too. Old habits died hard, though. He found himself removing his hands from Amelia and straightening up, as if awaiting inspection.
    And Josiah Wheeler inspected him thoroughly, in a lightning appraisal, full of silent judgment and without a flicker of recognition. Amelia broke the silence.
    “Papa, look! It’s Natty!” She reached out to grasp her father’s arm while she kept her other hand on Nate’s shoulder.
    “Amelia, unhand the gentleman.” Wheeler hissed through clenched teeth, “And explain yourself at once, young lady.”
    Amelia rolled her eyes, and in an instant, the beautiful debutante disappeared and Nate saw again the incorrigible tomboy she’d been as a child. “Natty Smythe, from Portsmouth. Don’t you remember? We grew up together!”
    Wheeler looked him up and down, squinting. “Smythe. The sailor’s son, right?”
    Nate gave a nod of his head, suppressing a wince. It had been years since he’d been judged by his father’s failings. It still smarted. “Indeed, my father sailed.”
    Wheeler took in his expensive evening suit, every bit as fine as his own. “What brings you to London, Smythe?”
    “Business.” He wasn’t going to honor Nate with a “Mr.” Not yet.
    “Not a sailor like your father?” Wheeler asked. Nate could sense the subtle judgment in the question. He was clearly surprised Nate had clawed his way out of that seaside hovel in Portsmouth at all, never mind shown up dressed in the first fashion in an exclusive London ballroom.
    “I did sail for a bit, but I’m in the management side of things now.”
    “Management?”
    “Ownership. Smythe Shipping.”
    Wheeler’s eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Indeed? Done quite well for yourself, have you?”
    “Not bad. Perhaps not as well as yourself, sir.” Not true, but there was no harm in flattering Wheeler a little.
    Wheeler was a self-made man, too. He’d been far more prosperous than Nate’s struggling family in Portsmouth, but he’d been essentially a merchant, running a little foundry and armament, until his chemist had stumbled upon a more efficient formulation for gunpowder and Wheeler had the good sense to patent it. He’d grown his modest bit of wealth into a handsome fortune with his innate talent for investing. In a mere five years, they’d moved from a small house in Portsmouth to a luxurious town house in London.
    And that was the last Nate had heard of them.
    Amelia had been his constant companion for most of his childhood, there at his side for every scrape and adventure. Then he’d spent all those months at sea, bouncing from port to port, fighting to survive. When he’d finally set foot in Portsmouth again, Amelia was long gone. So was the rest of his childhood.
    Amelia had been too wealthy for the likes of him, and he’d known it, known he’d lose her one day. But now he’d raised himself to the same social stratum by hard work and sheer willpower. They stood on level ground at last. She’d blossomed into a gorgeous creature, although clearly as wild as ever. With her father’s fortune behind her, she was quite a catch.
    It was too bad that now, when they finally met as equals, he couldn’t have anything more to do with her.
    “Papa,” Amelia interjected. “Who cares about business ? Isn’t it remarkable I’ve found