A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2) by Rebecca Paula

scrapes along her knuckles, the way her once-soft hands now included nails that would not scrub entirely clean, the way her skin became rough.
    She’d spent the night cleaning up after a rowdy group of gentlemen, avoiding their well-aimed slaps at her bottom, blushing not out of lust but of embarrassment as they eyed her cleavage in the uniform Mr. Simons made all the female workers wear. It was a brilliant eggplant, the dress fine enough, but the cut was too low for Minnie. She felt all legs and arms.
    And now on top of fish, she smelled of stale beer and cigars. She expected Mrs. Bowen to march upstairs any night now and toss her out for being a tart. Minnie wouldn’t blame her. She felt cheap as she scrubbed off the rouge on her cheeks and the little she had dabbed on her lips. The beauty mark she had drawn on her cheekbone with kohl refused to budge. It was a phantom mark; another reminder of how she failed to be what was expected of a girl like Minnie Ravensdale.
    She hadn’t run away to become a barmaid.
    Minnie drew back the thin curtain to an empty room. It had been three nights since her husband had left and hadn’t returned. Minnie hated that she was quickly turning into one of those “wives,” the ones who worried and fussed.
    She sighed, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the attic. This wasn’t like she imagined it would be when she ran away, but needs must. It wasn’t like Alex to leave her alone, but he’d disappeared, not returning to Mrs. Bowen’s for two days now. He never let her walk to work by herself. He was always there, watching over her as if the world would swallow her up in his absence.
    Except he had left.
    There was no time to fuss over someone, no matter how helpful. She started this alone and if he had truly left, then she would continue on her own. Like one does. As one must. Tears built at the back of her throat, a choking thickness that threatened to break her stern exterior. But that wouldn’t do. Minnie whacked the limp pillow with her fist, a few feathers flying out upon impact. When it wouldn’t give, she punched it again. And then once more, her knees now up on the bed. She imagined Alex’s smug face and punched again. The stubborn, annoying man.
    Ha, left her. Well, Minnie would show him.
    The door opened as her fist was suspended in midair, ready to strike the unsuspecting pillow once more.
    “Right in there, now, Mr. Marwick.”
    Minnie froze, as a group ushered Alex into the attic. She didn’t bother to cover herself in her nightdress; she was too preoccupied with the state of her fake husband.
    “Missing something?” someone asked her. She knew it was one of the women who worked at the tavern on the corner, but she couldn’t remember names just then. Laughter crowded around her, but there wasn’t a thing funny about the awful sight stumbling into the room. “Mr. Hawkins said he found him in some alley.”
    Minnie vaulted from the bed, dragging Alex by his untucked shirt away from the others standing in their room, staring at them both with pity.
    “A new husband already lost to drink,” one said. “I never would have guessed,” another chimed in. “He seemed like the good sort. Besotted, even.”
    “Young love,” the other said, nodding.
    Mrs. Bowen climbed the stairs, praying to God and cursing the devil. “Alex Marwick isn’t a drunkard like the rest of them,” she shouted, catching her breath as the entered the room. “I won’t believe my own eyes. Set him straight, Anne. I won’t tolerate behavior—”
    “Enough,” Minnie cut in forcefully. “I can handle things from here.” Their commentary added nothing but trouble, and she had enough in the grip of her hand.
    “Oohhh,” they cackled, “Mr. Marwick, you’re in a hot spot of trouble, you are.”
    “Mrs. Marwick,” Mrs. Bowen said, drawing her apron up to her nose as Alex wavered on his feet in the middle of the room. “I’ll be collecting my rent this week, no matter if your