A Common Scandal

  A Common Scandal

  By Amanda Weaver

  Finishing school taught Amelia Wheeler how to put on a well-mannered performance—when she’s not bored and looking for trouble. Lady Grantham’s is behind her and now it’s time for Amelia to keep her promise to her dying mother: marry a title and leave her wild days behind.

  That promise would be much easier to keep if Nate Smythe hadn’t just reappeared in a London ballroom. The son of an impoverished sailor, Nate—Natty, as he used to be called—has grown up to become handsome, rich and polished. He claims to be looking for a proper bride who can advance his business interests, but that doesn’t stop him from seeking out Amelia every chance he gets. Challenging her. Kissing her.

  Suddenly, struggling against her simmering passion is the least of Amelia’s problems—one of her titled suitors is hiding a desperate secret that could stop Amelia from pleasing her parents or finding happiness with Nate. As a weeklong house party threatens to derail her hard-won future, Amelia must decide: fight against disaster or act like the lady she’s promised to become?

  This book is approximately 86,000 words

  Book two of The Grantham Girls

  Dear Reader,

  I don’t know about you, but when someone asks me for book recommendations, I first ask them what some of their favorite authors or books are, so I can give them something similar, but different. Taste matching is a pretty common way of getting recommendations for anything, really, from chocolate to TV shows to books, so I decided to do some taste matching with our Carina Press May titles.

  If you love Kristen Ashley...

  Anna del Mar’s contemporary romance may be just up your alley. One of the things I love about Kristen is that she tends to write long, giving us a chance to dive into the characters and relationships, and Anna offers the same great escape. In At the Brink, Josh Lane is blunt, ruthless, intense and exacting; a workaholic driven by internal demons; a man who doesn’t play games, except in bed, of course, where he is always in command. Lily Boswell is trapped in a dangerous situation and Josh has no problem taking advantage of that—to protect her and to get her into his bed.

  If you love Jackie Collins or Sidney Sheldon...

  Remember the awesome sweeping international feel of the ’80s glam romances? The characters were wealthy, they were dramatic, and they were no-holds-barred. Join Laura Carter’s Vengeful Love trilogy as it takes us from London to Dubai in a dark and suspenseful, sinfully sexy tale of love, betrayal and sex. Pick up books one and two before diving into this month’s nail-biting finale, Vengeful Love:Black Diamonds.

  If you love Josh Lanyon...

  You’ll love A.M. Arthur. Both Josh and A.M. are wonderful at sweeping readers into brilliant characterization and developing relationships. In Come What May, the first book in the brand-new All Saints series from A.M. Arthur, we meet Jonas Ashcroft—son of a conservative state senator, carefree frat-boy player, and definitely not gay. But when Jonas meets Tate, he’s introduced to a life he’s never known. One filled with acceptance and sex and a love that terrifies them both.

  If you love Eloisa James or Sarah MacLean...

  The sharp wit of Sarah and the fabulous heroine-centric story lines of both Sarah and Eloisa are some of my favorite things about their historical romances. Amanda Weaver’s Grantham Girls trilogy shares similarities with both and is absolutely delightful. A spirited heiress is determined to land a titled husband, but an undeniable passion with a man from her past threatens both of their futures in A Common Scandal.

  If you love Pamela Clare...

  Suspense, romance, action...what’s not to love about Pamela Clare? Piper J. Drake follows in Clare’s bestselling footsteps with her romantic suspense Safeguard series. Kyle Yeun is a very bad man and way too tempting in all the wrong ways, but mercenary Lizzy Scott needs to keep him alive long enough to provide Deadly Testimony in court even if it means there will be no rest for the wicked.

  If you love Heidi Cullinan...

  Annabeth Albert is an author you should check out. Fun and fabulous, romantic and swoon-worthy. Beta Test is an enemies-to-lovers, opposites-attract road-trip romance that will remind you of all the things you love about male/male romance.

  If you love Linnea Sinclair or Sharon Lee or Steve Miller...

  That’s right, if you’ve been craving a dynamite space-opera romance, then you’ve been missing out on the Chaos Station series by Kelly Jensen and Jenn Burke. Love in space? Yes, please. Good versus evil? Check. An ongoing romance that sweeps the galaxy book over book? Delivered. Start where the adventure begins in Chaos Station and devour the titles leading to this month’s release, Phase Shift.

  Backlist bonus taste matching:

  If you love Jaci Burton...

  Make sure you’re not missing out on Kate Willoughby’s In the Zone contemporary sports romances.

  If you love Liliana Hart...

  You’ll be enamored with the spunky Lexi Carmichael mysteries from Julie Moffett.

  And if you love the Hitman series from Jessica Clare and Jen Frederick...

  The dangerous hero of Didn’t I Warn You by Amber Bardan is right up your alley!

  As always, until next month here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Dedication

  For my dear sister, Leslie.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Amanda Weaver

  About the Author

  About The Marriage Act

  About The Fighter and The Fallen Woman

  Writing for Carina

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Portsmouth, England—1885

  Mama was napping. Again.

  Amelia shifted from one foot to the other, peering around the doorway into her mother’s bedroom, watching her sleep. Her eyes were closed and a linen cloth lay across her forehead, no doubt smelling of all those odd herbs her lady’s maid doused it with to cure her mother’s headaches.

  They didn’t seem to be doing any good today. Mama was sleeping soundly, and stern Mrs. Simpson, the housekeeper, had told Amelia to stay out of the way, to be a good girl and sit quietly and practice her embroidery. She was terrible at sitting quietly, and her embroidery was dreadful.

  When Mama felt this bad, she’d sleep straight through until dinner. There would be no reading time today. Mama was such a good reader. Amelia leaned around the doo
rway and set their book on the little table inside, in case she felt better tomorrow.

  She eased the bedroom door shut and crept down the back stairs. If there was to be no reading today, she certainly wasn’t going to stay inside being shushed by Mrs. Simpson all afternoon. As she sprinted through the kitchen, she paused to snag two meat pies left over from last night’s supper and wrapped them in a napkin. Once she’d slipped out the back door, she headed for the corner of the tiny garden, to the fence with the loose boards. After she’d wedged herself around them and out into the alley that ran behind the houses, she took off at a run, not stopping until she reached Queen Street, where the world became far more interesting.

  Horse-drawn carts jostled for space in the road while workmen hauled massive piles of fishing nets, weaving around women carrying baskets of vegetables and other food to sell. Wagons rumbled, machinery clanged and everywhere people argued, shouted and laughed. The air smelled of machine oil, dung and fish, and underneath it all, the salty tang of the sea. How could anybody expect her to stay inside being quiet and ladylike when all of busy Portsmouth was out here to explore?

  Amelia ducked underneath a long wooden beam being carried by two burly longshoremen, making her way toward Hawke Street and the narrow, listing house that was like her second home. When she reached it, the front door was open and two small children sat on the stoop, absorbed in sorting a pile of shells.

  “Hello, Johnny. Hello, Mary.” Amelia stopped to pat both children on the head.

  “Look!” Johnny said, holding up two shells. “I found two the same!”

  “How clever you are, Johnny!”

  “Mine!” Mary said, reaching for Johnny’s shells with chubby fingers.

  Amelia stepped around the children and peeked into the dim front room. In truth, it was the only room, this one and one above for sleeping.

  “Mrs. Smythe?”

  “Hello, Amelia!” a voice called from the corner. “Natty’s down by the docks with the boys.”

  Mrs. Smythe emerged from the gloom, wiping her hands on her grubby apron, squinting as the daylight hit her face. Natty said his mother had been pretty once, although it was hard to see now. Life had sucked her beauty away, like illness had sucked away Mama’s fair looks. And like Mama, Mrs. Smythe had married for true love and tragically lost her place in Society for it. Natty said his mother had been a merchant’s daughter, comfortably well-off, before she’d run off with a handsome sailor. That was why she could read and write, unlike so many of her neighbors on Hawke Street. Fat lot of good her learning and manners did her. Now it was all she could do to keep their family afloat when Mr. Smythe barely worked and spent all day at the pub.

  “Oh, Natty’s with the boys, then?”

  Mrs. Smythe brushed Amelia’s curls out of her eyes. “Go on, love. You’re better company for him than those ruffians any day. Natty uses his manners when you’re about.”

  Manners. She liked Natty precisely because he didn’t treat her like a little princess. Natty would never try to fob her off with a bit of embroidery. He’d dare her to climb the tallest mast in the harbor. Then he’d race her to the top, which was foolish because she always won.

  “All right, I’ll go find him.”

  “Come back and visit soon.” Mrs. Smythe gave her a fond smile. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

  “Did you bring us anything today?” Johnny asked as she made to step around them. Amelia thought of her stolen meat pies. She’d intended to share them with Natty, but since he’d only give his to his brother and sister anyway, there was no point. She unwrapped the pies and held them out to the little ones. Their faces brightened as if she’d given them pure gold. Poor things. They never got enough to eat.

  With a last pat for the little ones, Amelia left to make her way to the docks. An overloaded wagon hit a hole in the street next to her, splashing muddy water up onto the hem of her white cotton dress. Oh, dear. This one had just arrived from the dressmaker’s and Mama had made such a fuss over the lace trim. She would be so disappointed in her for ruining it. Well, at least Natty never minded her stained frocks.

  The ship masts came into view, stark black against the clear blue sky, strung together with a network of rigging ropes. Massive carts of goods were making their way down the narrow streets, struggling to get to the ships to unload. Vendors were set up on nearly every corner, selling food and goods to the men coming in from sea.

  Amelia was momentarily distracted by a cart full of brightly colored shawls and she wandered closer to take a look. She did so love pretty things. She was reaching out to run a finger over a lovely silky blue one when there was a shout and commotion to her left. Before she could even turn to look, a boy ran past, hitting her in the shoulder and knocking her to the ground. She felt the sleeve of her dress give way as her hands hit the cobblestones. Oh, no. Not even the bruised knees she was sure to have were worse than the trouble she’d be in for that ripped sleeve, never mind the mud stains.

  “Wait up, Peter!” another boy called out. “You knocked down a little girl.”

  She groaned, recognizing both the voice and the answering laugh. Davey Rollins and Peter Fickett. Peter paused and turned, still laughing. He glanced down at Amelia and sneered.

  “Ah, that’s only Amelia Wheeler. It’s not as if she’s a proper girl anyway.”

  Amelia shoved herself up to her knees, but she didn’t even have a chance to shout in outrage before another boy pushed past her, her favorite boy of all.

  The sunlight glinted off Natty’s messy gold hair as he reached out and fisted his hand in Peter’s dirty shirt. “You take that back,” he snarled. Peter stumbled but kept laughing. Natty’s face, which had recently become angular and defined, was ferocious. He’d grown at least six inches in the past year, but he was still all long, skinny arms and legs.

  “Come on, Nat. She’s nothing but a little hellion. She’ll never be a proper lady, no matter how much money old Mr. Wheeler is making now.”

  Natty gave Peter a shake but before he could do any more, Amelia barreled past him and straight into Peter with a feral growl. Peter’s breath left him in a whoosh as her shoulder plowed into his stomach. She was the perfect height to inflict maximum damage, which was the one advantage of being a small, ten-year-old girl squaring off against a fifteen-year-old boy.

  Natty had the good sense to let go as soon as Amelia shoved past him, but Peter was caught off guard and off balance, staggering back and falling, unable to even brace himself as he fell on the cobblestones. Amelia pounced while he was still gasping for air, her knees pinning his chest as her hands curled into small, deadly fists. He threw his arms up in an attempt to shield his face but Amelia’s fists found his nose with unerring accuracy.

  “You’ll be sorry I’m no proper lady, Peter Fickett! ’Cause now I can beat your bloody ugly face in!”

  The rest of the dockside boys finally caught up to them and stood back laughing as Peter struggled and howled in pain. Stupid mean boy. He’d always teased her, but he’d grown positively beastly since Papa had made his money. As if Papa now being rich was her fault.

  Well, she’d show him just how unladylike she could be. He screeched like a cat as her hands fisted into his hair. Then, a strong, wiry arm banded around her waist and lifted her clear off Peter’s chest. She fought back, swinging her arms and kicking her feet, while Peter rolled into a ball on his side, whimpering.

  “Get off me! I’d almost finished him off!” Amelia snarled.

  “Be still!” Natty hissed in her ear, holding her against his chest as she struggled.

  “But he had it coming!”

  “And you gave it to him.” Natty’s voice was calm, but laced with pride. He should be proud, since he was the one who’d taught her to fight. When she stopped flailing, he slowly lowered her to the ground, although he didn’t release her until Pe
ter had climbed to his feet. Peter spat out a mouthful of blood as he glared at Amelia.

  “Say you’re sorry,” Natty said.

  “Sorry?” Peter shrieked. “What for? She attacked me like a bloody banshee!”

  “You want I should turn her loose again?”

  Amelia made a show of lunging for him and Peter stumbled backward in alarm.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Amelia.” Natty cleared his throat. Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Wheeler.”

  Amelia sniffed and drew her tiny frame up as tall as it would go, which was not very tall at all. “Accepted. For now. But watch yourself, Fickett, or I’ll come at you again when Natty’s not around to save your scurvy hide.”

  Peter glowered at her until the other boys surrounded him, clapping him on the shoulder and teasing him about being licked by a girl half his size.

  “Come on, you,” Natty muttered, pulling her away from the boys and marching her back up Anchor Way. “It’s remarkable, Amelia. You can find trouble just walking out your front door.” As always, he dropped his dockside accent as soon as the other boys were out of earshot. His mother fussed at him when he talked like a ruffian.

  “I slipped out the back garden, actually.”

  “See? Does anyone even know where you are?”

  She shrugged. “Nobody much cares. Papa’s at the foundry like he always is and Mama is resting, like she always is. There was just mean old Mrs. Simpson, and she only wants me to stay quiet and out of the way. I’m out of the way now, aren’t I?”

  Natty chuckled and slung his arm around her narrow shoulders. “You’re not out of my way.”

  “Natty...do you want me out of your way? I thought we were friends.”

  With a grimace, he glanced away, across the bustling port. “Of course not. We are friends, Amelia. But I meant that, when I made Pete apologize. Your father is a proper rich gentleman now. He won’t want you running around the docks with the son of a sailor. Not now he’s made his fortune and you’re all grand.”

  “I don’t care about any of that.”