Unveiled by Colleen Quinn Page A

couldn’t have resisted him any more than she could have resisted a twenty-dollar gold piece lying in the street. He had plans, plans that would take them away from all this. The dashing Irishman with the devil’s own wit made her believe. She knew it was wrong, but when he touched her hair, her face and lips, she no longer cared.
    This time she couldn’t hide the sniffle that choked her. It had all been lies. God, she had been such a fool. He had left her, in spite of his words, in spite of everything that had passed between them. He had used her, then discarded her like an old rag. Even when he learned of his child, he hadn’t come back, hadn’t tried to help her, hadn’t even come to see his own son. Ah, but she learned, even if it was the hard way. She didn’t have anything else to do with men, and they didn’t have anything to do with her. She was Irish, poor, had a child, and was alone. She could expect nothing else.
    Until now. Somehow fate had thrown gold in her direction, and for as long as it lasted, she, Katie O’Connor, was Frances Pemberton. She sensed something good would come of this, that she would find a way to help her family, and hope for her son. Perhaps she really wasn’t such a bad person…maybe God had forgiven her after all.
    A noise broke her thoughts and she glanced up, quickly wiping a tear. Several young men were approaching, dressed in hunting pants and carrying rifles. It was common sport among the gentry to shoot at the little sand snipes, and it seemed that the gentlemen had been occupied doing that when they stumbled along this beach.
    “Oh my.” Nellie smoothed her hair and reddened, reaching quickly for her robe. “It’s Christopher Scott, Charles Pepper…and I think one of the Forrester boys. Oh, and there’s Peter Tyler.”
    “It’s scandalous for them to see us like this,” her sister chimed in, snatching up her own robe. “My Lord, when Mother hears of this…”
    “Well, she won’t unless you tell her,” Margaret responded. “I certainly don’t plan to tell mine. Why, Bertie, I think you’re blushing. Don’t worry, I think Charles would be delighted to see you in your costume. Yoo-hoo!”
    Margaret waved broadly, attracting the men’s attention. They approached the girls, chuckling as Bertrice dived beneath the umbrella and Margaret stood up, displaying her costume to its best advantage. Katie stayed where she was, picking up a dime novel and pretending to be engrossed in the story. A shadow fell across her page and she was forced to look up, observing Christopher’s wicked smile.
    “I’m charmed, Miss Pemberton. I had no idea you’d be here today.”
    Katie closed the book. “Most gentlemen avoid this beach in the morning,” she said, emphasizing the word “gentlemen.” “They know we come to bathe.”
    “My apologies. We had no idea. Although I can’t really say I’m sorry.” Christopher gave her a look that seemed to sear right through the thin costume she wore and she had to fight to keep from crossing her arms over her breasts.
    “Mr. Scott,” she whispered so she wouldn’t attract the others’ attention, “you have got to be the rudest, most insulting man I have ever met.”
    “I know.” He seemed saddened by her appraisal, but she didn’t miss the laughter in his eyes. “So are you saying you’ve agreed to marry me?”
    Katie gasped. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”
    “I see.” He smiled back, not in the least insulted. “What would it take, then? Aren’t I rich enough, handsome enough? I’ve already proven my charm.”
    “And humility,” Katie agreed.
    “Then perhaps I just haven’t presented myself well. I am Christopher Scott, of the Philadelphia Scotts. I live on Walnut Street in the family estate. I play a good game of poker, terrible billiards, and mediocre chess, unless there is money involved.”
    “That’s very noble of you.”
    “My friends call me Chris.”
    “Of which you