Once Upon a Scandal Read Online Free

around furniture, and dashed toward the north entrance hall. Unbolting the oversize oak doors, she flung them open and sprinted out into the night. She darted past the glass lanterns illuminating the vined entryway and past the limestone portico.
    She stumbled on the gravel path and winced as rocks bit into her stockinged feet. The weather was unseasonably cold, and a lashing gust of freezing wind and heavy rain assaulted her as she squinted to see beyond the blinding darkness before her. She wandered farther out into the vast lawn beyond the carriage pathway, the rain drenching her nightdress, face and hair within moments.
    “Flint!” she shouted above the whirling wind as a torrent of rain continued to whip at her, pricking her skin like the tips of needles. “Flint! Where—”
    She froze, sucking in an astonished breath as her feet sank deep into thick, icy mud, suctioning her to the ground. Her night simply couldn’t get any worse, could it?
    “Victoria!” A reprimanding male voice caused her to jump. “What the devil are you doing?”
    Then again, maybe it could.
    Victoria jerked toward Remington, the lanterns beyond dimly outlining his tall, lean frame in the descending torrent of rain. His dark, wet hair was plastered to his forehead and neck, whilst that billowy linen shirt of his was no longer billowy. It had turned sheer and clung to his lean, muscled arms and wide chest.
    Her own nightdress, which only boasted a chemise beneath, was also beginning to stick to the length of her body. Though she didn’t have the sort of sizable breasts most females her age toted, she had more than enough to make her cheeks burn.
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “You ought to go inside. You’re getting wet.”
    “We are both getting wet.” He gestured toward the open doors beneath the portico. “Come. The blighter is probably hiding somewhere in the house.”
    She squinted against the rain slathering her face. “No. He never hides and he always answers whenever I call. Which means he has to be somewhere outside.”
    Remington closed the distance between them. “I doubt he will even be able to hear us over all of this wind and rain. Now come. Come inside. I was hoping you and I could talk.”
    What a rum pot. Talk? At this time of night?
    Victoria turned away, cupped the sides of her mouth and yelled out against the wind, “Flint! Where are you?”
    “We are getting soaked to the bone.”
    “You really ought to cease pointing out what is already obvious.” She paused, sucked in a large breath and then shouted as loudly as she possibly could, “Flint!” More rain and wind pummeled her as an agonizing chill overtook her limbs.
    “Victoria, please. This is ridiculous. He’s a dog. He has fur to protect him against the elements. You, on the other hand—”
    “Flint! Fliiiint!” Panic edged into her strained voice and her limbs began to quake. Where was he? Why wasn’t he responding? Flint never wandered far from the house. Not ever.
    She spun in every direction, wondering which way she should go, but found that the night, wind and rain were blending together too much, making it impossible to see.
    “Victoria.” Remington grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “I promise to assist you in finding him in the morning. Now come.”
    She flung his arm away and stumbled forward, toward the direction of the open field. Her stockings were now sliding down her legs, being sucked in by the mud around her. “No. I cannot leave him out here all night. I cannot! He is anything but good at taking care of himself.”
    “Much like his lady.” He stepped back toward her. “Please forgive this necessity.” Large, warm hands grabbed her firmly by the waist, then yanked her straight up into the air, pulling her feet out of the mud and out of her stockings altogether, leaving them stuck in the ground.
    Victoria gasped as she was effortlessly pitched up and over his hard shoulder like a sack of barley, her bare feet