Only Scandal Will Do Read Online Free PDF Page B

Flung into the corner, hidden by the chair, lay the man’s big, black cloak. Gleefully, she grabbed the expensive garment and pulled the warm folds around her. It smelled like him, the clean citrus rising from the collar. That scent might haunt her for the rest of her life, but could be endured for now.
    The cloak dragged the ground, so her ankles and legs would not show. Her grubby feet, however, she could do nothing about. At least she was decently covered. Decent. Would she ever feel decent again?
    Resolutely, Kat pushed that thought aside. God knew she was not free yet, neither was she home. All that happened tonight would keep until she had time think.
    Gathering the cape around her, she cracked open the door, half expecting to see Nigel barrel down the hallway, sword in hand. But no one lurked in the shadowy corridor. The still-unmoving figure lay sprawled on the carpet as if dead, and a twinge of remorse shot through her. A fleeting memory of his lips on hers caused her to catch her breath. She was not sorry she’d struck him. Nevertheless, she hoped the man would recover.
    And live another day to debauch someone else? Steeling herself against her previous charitable thoughts and disturbing memories, she peeped out the door. The hallway was still vacant. She sped across the threshold and closed the door with a quiet click.
    Rain had fallen since she’d entered this hell house. Shivering, she paused at the back door to raise the hood. With any luck at all, no one here would be able to trace her. Leaving only a trail of small, muddy footprints to melt into the gloomy London night, she slipped out.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter 4
     
    As she hurried down the dark alleyway beside the House of Pleasure, Kat had no idea where she was. No matter. Rid of kidnappers and purchaser, she drew in an exhilarating breath of damp air to celebrate her freedom. She would find her way home eventually.
    Kat crossed a fairly deserted street to avoid two men huddled around a smoldering brazier. The cold cobblestones slick under her bare feet, she tried to keep her balance and squinted in the poor light. Only one lamp lit on the entire block. Despite the need for haste, she had to be careful not to slip and do even more damage to her aching body. Upon reaching the sidewalk opposite, her feet squelched into something soft and slick; an earthy, decaying smell assailed her. A shudder raced up her spine as she tried not to think about what it might have been. Only escape mattered.
    At a crossroads, she paused to peer both ways. Her best chance would be to find a more populated area where there might be a night watchman. A glance back the way she came showed no pursuit. Relief washed over her. She was truly free. Now to avoid being accosted by some other man. Pulling the cloak around her tightly–her gown, if seen, would certainly suggest her to be a whore of the first degree–she listened for the din of people. A faint clamor to her left made her pray her luck had turned, and she struck out down the shadowy avenue.
    At the end of the street she rounded the corner and stumbled backward. Spread before her in the golden glow of the oil lamps that lined the street, a busy London thoroughfare teemed with life. Street vendors hawked their wares, tempting passersby with bunches of colorful flowers, articles of clothing, and all manner of food. The rich smell of roasted meat wafted over Katarina, and her empty stomach rumbled in protest. Gentlemen in elegant evening attire streamed out of a nearby building, hailing hackney cabs, their brightly garbed companions chatting and clinging to their arms. After the quiet darkness of the previous streets, the bright, bustling scene dazzled her.
    One foppishly dressed gentleman on the opposite corner handed a lady into a waiting hack. If only she were that woman. The cab moved off the moment the door shut and there, praise God, on the opposite corner stood two night watchmen. Kat plunged across, disregarding a