{"id":263366,"date":"2026-07-14T14:32:04","date_gmt":"2026-07-14T11:32:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/how-to-get-away-with-scandal-caroline-linden\/"},"modified":"2026-07-14T14:32:04","modified_gmt":"2026-07-14T11:32:04","slug":"how-to-get-away-with-scandal-caroline-linden","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/how-to-get-away-with-scandal-caroline-linden\/","title":{"rendered":"How To Get Away With Scandal – Caroline Linden"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cAnd then, ices and sweets.\u201d They strolled along, studying the wares in windows they passed until they reached a shop in St James\u2019s Street. Richard swept open the door, and they went into the shop, where Evangeline looked around with interest. She\u2019d never been in a gentlemen\u2019s tailoring shop. It was less formal than a modiste\u2019s shop, but still similar. Bolts of fabric lined one cabinet, and cutting patterns hung at the rear.<\/p>\n

Two tailor\u2019s apprentices were hard at work at a table near the window. A man with long, wavy dark hair and olive skin came forward, arms open in welcome. \u201cSignor Campion! Buongiorno.\u201d He clasped his hands and gave a little bow. \u201cGood day to you, sir.\u201d He turned toward Evangeline. \u201cLady Courtenay, may I present Mr. Federico Salvatore.\u201d Evangeline dipped her head with a smile. \u201cA pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Salvatore.\u201d \u201cAn unspeakable delight, madam,\u201d he returned, beaming.<\/p>\n

He turned back to Richard. \u201cHow may I help you today, sir?\u201d \u201cSome new waistcoats . . .\u201d The men moved toward the long table at the back, where Mr. Salvatore began taking down bolts of cloth and laying them out for Richard\u2019s inspection. A plump woman about Evangeline\u2019s own age bustled through the drapes shielding the back room. \u201cWon\u2019t you sit down, m\u2019lady?\u201d she asked in a broad Essex accent.<\/p>\n

She indicated a pair of armchairs tucked away in the window beside the door. \u201cWould you care for a cup of tea?\u201d \u201cThank you, that would be lovely.\u201d The woman nodded. \u201cShall I take your pelisse? A bit warm in here, with all these windows and the sun today.\u201d Evangeline unbuttoned her pelisse and the woman hung it up, then disappeared into the back again, emerging several minutes later with a small tray holding a cup of steaming tea.<\/p>\n

She set it down in front of Evangeline. \u201cThank you, Mrs . . . ?\u201d \u201cOh! Mrs. Hutchins, madam, Henrietta Hutchins. I run the shop for Mr. Salvatore.\u201d Evangeline\u2019s surprise must have shown on her face, for the woman pulled a good-natured grimace. \u201cRight brilliant he is, with cloth and scissors, not so much with the bookkeeping. I help him.\u201d \u201cVery good of you,\u201d said Evangeline in surprise. The woman waved a hand. \u201cMe husband were a tailor himself, and I learned how a shop ought to run. When Sal\u2014Mr.<\/p>\n

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he first time Evangeline was widowed, it was a relief. She hadn\u2019t wanted to marry Viscount Cunningham; she hadn\u2019t even known him. He had been her father\u2019s choice\u2014and very nearly her father\u2019s age\u2014in a vain attempt to rein in Evangeline\u2019s \u201cwild and ungovernable\u201d nature, as Sir Robert Bennet had disapprovingly termed it. Her transgressions had ranged from sneaking a ride on her horse in her brother\u2019s old breeches to allowing a barrister\u2019s son to kiss her, rather passionately. Her mother had wept from the shame of it.<\/p>\n

Evangeline had also cried, and promised to reform, but to no avail. She\u2019d been barely seventeen years old, and had met Cunningham exactly twice, when her father marched her down the aisle of the church to become his viscountess. The best thing that could be said of their marriage was that it was blessedly short. They were horribly mismatched. Evangeline, young and outgoing, liked dancing, masquerade balls, and theater, the more outrageous the better. Cunningham preferred fishing at his Scottish estate, drowsing by the fire over a good book, and maligning the French with his cronies at his club.<\/p>\n

Within a year, neither wanted anything to do with the other. One evening, four years after they wed, Cunningham went to bed early after dinner, complaining of indigestion. He never woke. A fatal attack of bilious dyspepsia, the doctor informed her the next morning. Evangeline hadn\u2019t been there. Always cross when unwell, Cunningham had told her to leave him be, and she had been at a masquerade, drinking champagne with other gentlemen and a woman she suspected was a courtesan. It had been marvelous. \u201cAnd now you\u2019ll have to wear black,\u201d said her friend Fanny, Lady Woodville.<\/p>\n

Fanny was a dozen years older, and a widow with a substantial fortune. She had no children and her late husband\u2019s title had gone to a distant cousin, who had no interest in her; she was as free and independent as a woman could be. She was dashing and opinionated and Evangeline admired her greatly. \u201cOf course I will.\u201d She plucked listlessly at the black crepe they were attaching to bonnets.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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