19th Century Princess, 19th Century Tramp

Chapter 3

I laughed as Scotty hugged me, his breath tickled my ear, it didn't smell very nice, but I still laughed and felt my body warm. I heard someone cough behind me. I let go of Scotty and turned around, he still kept an arm around my waist though. Stood in front of us, was a small, rather fat man, with stubble framing his jaw and chin, but with the amount of food and dirt stuck in this man's stubble, it looked like fur. "Scotty, how many times?!" The furry man advanced on us, his voice was gruff and hoarse, "Sorry mister." Scotty murmered as he grabbed my hand and pulled us away from the little alley we were sat in.

"Who was that?" I asked as we wandered hand in hand down the pavement, "Just some guy who always tells me off for 'being in his spot'." we laughed, then I noticed my chef come around the corner on her little white bike with the wicker baskets on the front and back, "Move!" I whispered to Scotty as I pushed him down an alleyway, "Victoria? What's wrong?" Scotty asked as he steadied me, after nearly falling over my skirts. "T- that woman, chef from home." I panted, "Oh," he said. We just stood there for a while, in each others arms, you could tell Scotty was older than me because of the way he towered over me, and the way his jawline was so firm and chiseled like stone. "Well," I said as I backed off from Scotty's warm embrace, "I best get home, mother and father will wonder where I am. I will see you again tomorrow, I promise." Scotty nodded at me and I ran off toward my home. My heart sank slightly as I ran, I wished he was there with me.

I burst into my front door to find my father stood, waiting for me, my heavily pregnant mother sat behind him, they both wore disappointed frowns on their faces, "Where have you been, Victoria? It is nearly six in the evening, you would have been late for dinner if you hadn't come home, we were going to send Charles out looking for you."

"Father, I was out,"

"Doing what?" He growled through his teeth, his gaze glowering over me.

"Shopping." I lied.

"I see no bags." Shit, he was on to me...

"I know, the clothes weren't for me." 

"Who for then?"

"The homeless people at the shelter." It wasn't like I enjoyed lying to my parents, they were good to me, they just couldn't know about Scotty. Father frowned as he looked down his nose at me and crinkled it at the pungent aroma that clung to my clothes from hanging around the homeless. "Get washed and dressed into something that doesn't smell like rotten eggs."

"Yes, Father." I hung my head as I walked past my mother, she softly held my arm and I looked at her, she gave me a weak smile and mouthed one word, a word I had been hearing all of my life. "Soon."