Chapter Four

H e was watching her. The earl. She was certain it was him—the one Mrs. Dove Lyon had said was perfect for her. The handsome, sandy-haired gentleman whose smoldering gray eyes had locked on hers as they’d passed each other in the passageway upstairs after her first meeting with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. It had only been a moment, but the memory of their brief connection had made her stomach leap. It was the same sensation she’d felt the first time she’d seen Theo, the memory of whom still brought an ache to her throat and tears to her eyes.

Stop it! She chastised herself, remembering that the earl had had no interest in meeting her and that she was now bound to the man who stood before her. His name was Lord Middlemarch—a mealy-mouthed, pale, baron. His lips were thin, his eyes small and watery, and his smile insincere. Every time they spoke, he made it clear that he thought himself better than her. Her stomach churned as his mouth moved. He liked to talk about himself and his accomplishments—which mostly included what he inherited. Not once had he asked her about herself, her family, her wants, her needs, or her dreams. He had made no effort to woo her, this man. And why would he? There was no need for it. He’d purchased her at auction. He owned her, just like a pet poodle.

Her only saving grace was that no one knew she’d been auctioned into marriage. Her identity as well as Middlemarch’s had been kept a secret. It saved her the humiliation of people knowing she’d been purchased but not the humiliation of people thinking she’d actually chosen such an odious man to be her husband. The thought made her want to scream. Still, she had to force herself to see the good in him. He was to be her child’s father, and he had the means and the title to provide her child with a proper future. In that respect, the auction had been a success.

Kate looked at Middlemarch and tried to imagine her life as his wife. She saw herself entering a ballroom on his arm and shivered. He would no doubt parade her around like a prized mare and then send her to a corner where she would be expected to remain silent for hours while he socialized. And what kind of father would he make? A harsh one she imagined. Someone who belittled his son, letting him know he was never good enough—never as capable and clever as his father.

Oh Theo, why did you have to leave us to the mercy of this man? Our little family. We would have been so happy together!

“Miss Sheldon,” Lord Middlemarch said, “You really must do something about your manners. You cannot be daydreaming while a gentleman—your future husband, for that matter—is talking to you. How am I supposed to take you out in public when you behave like this? It will be downright embarrassing. As a wife, it is your duty to serve me, and that means listening when I talk.” His mouth pursed into a sour grape like that of a petulant child.

She could stand no more. She’d sooner starve on the streets than marry a man like Lord Middlemarch. Her aunt had paid Mrs. Dove-Lyon a large sum of money and was doling out almost all of her life’s savings for Kate’s dowry, so the widow simply had to do better!

“We are not yet married, my lord, and if you don’t like the way I behave, you may leave,” she said, enjoying the momentary slackening of his mouth before his face tightened again.

“How dare you?” He spat the words. “I paid for you, and I own you. You will show me the respect and gratitude I command as your future husband. Do you understand?”

She straightened her back, ready to give the spineless worm a piece of her mind. “But we are not yet married, and if you—” she began, but was cut off when her aunt suddenly appeared by her side.

“My lord, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wonder if I may have a word with my niece.”

“Take all the time you need, madam. I have decided to retire to the gaming room. If you are able to teach Miss Sheldon how to behave with manners toward her future husband and lord, she may send me a note of apology. Until then, we have nothing further to say to each other. Good evening.” He turned and marched toward the gaming room.

“Have you ever encountered such a rude and pompous man!” Kate fumed.

“Outside, please, Katherine.” Her aunt clutched her arm and led her across the ballroom through the French patio doors and into the garden. Aunt Jane did not start her lecture until they were safely ensconced in a remote part of the garden. “What in the world has gotten into you?” she asked once they were alone.

“The man is insufferable!” Kate said. “I must speak with Mrs. Dove-Lyon and tell her I cannot marry him. I am sure she will understand and make some other arrangement for me.”

“Katherine”—her aunt looked sternly at her—“you entered into a contract where you agreed to participate in that auction, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon doesn’t take kindly to those who cost her money and damage her reputation by breaking agreements with her.”

“But I can’t possibly marry that man.” Kate covered her face with her hands.

“Yes, you can”—Aunt Jane lowered her voice—“for the sake of your child, Kate, you must make amends with him. Even if Mrs. Dove-Lyon agreed to let you out of the contract, which I doubt, time is not on your side. Within a few weeks, you will start to show, and what will you do then? Mrs. Dove-Lyon instructed Lord Middleton to get a special license. She said the wedding needed to happen within a few days. That is for your protection. Now, if you want this marriage to take place before your change becomes visible, you must appease Lord Middlemarch.”

Kate shook her head, unable to get the words out of her mouth as her throat swelled. “It’s not fair,” she choked. “I was betrothed to a good man—a man I loved dearly—and because of a terrible accident, I am now forced into an unhappy marriage. What kind of a father will Lord Middlemarch make? He’s positively vulgar.”

“He’ll provide you and your child with security and a title.”

“Is that all that matters in the world?”

“Unfortunately, it matters a great deal. Think of your sisters, Kate. Their reputations are at stake.”

Kate nodded and wiped away the tear that flowed down her cheek. “I know you are right. I am behaving like a spoiled child. But I do worry if that man is capable of loving and being kind to my child, even if he believes it to be his own. He is so cold.”

“He can’t be all that bad,” her aunt said softly. “You’ve only just met him, and you’ve already decided against him. Perhaps, if you try being more gracious to him, he will be more amiable to you.”

Kate bit her lip. There was no point in arguing. Her aunt was right. She’d made a terrible mistake—one night of passion had led to this. But she had to think of her sisters and her babe. Her happiness had been stolen from her the day the love of her life and her best friend had been killed in that terrible accident. That day, fate had turned against her. But that didn’t give her the right to steal her babe’s and her sisters’ futures. She couldn’t bear to see them suffer. She’d simply have to take comfort in their happiness. They would have a chance to marry for love—but for her, that chance was lost forever.

Guilt plagued Oliver after he’d observed Miss Sheldon’s distress. Had Mrs. Dove-Lyon arranged a marriage between her and Lord Middlemarch? If so, Miss Sheldon didn’t look too pleased about it. And who could blame her? Judging from Middlemarch’s spiteful expression before he’d stalked off, it appeared as though he’d been rather unkind to her.

Oliver stood up and sighed. It was none of his business, yet he felt compelled to investigate. He followed Lord Middlemarch into the gaming room and, upon locating him in a darkened corner, drinking brandy alone at table, sat down beside him.

“Having a good night?” he asked.

“Not entirely.” Middlemarch picked up his brandy glass and drained it.

“Who was that lovely young lady I saw you talking to earlier?” Oliver said in a deliberately casual tone.

Middlemarch snorted. “No one special. Just another woman who managed to ensnare a peer into marriage. And she’s an ungrateful one too.”

Oliver’s blood boiled in his veins. But he smiled and pretended to sympathize. “Women want nothing more than your title and money.”

“Exactly, and that would be fine if they at least showed a bit of gratitude. But that young lady behaves as though I am doing her a favor by marrying her.”

“Marrying her?” Oliver’s heart sank. “She’s your betrothed?”

Middlemarch nodded.

“How did an intelligent gentleman like you become ensnared by such a conniving young lady?” Oliver tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Apparently, he’d succeeded because Middlemarch grinned. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” He smacked his thin lips in a revolting manner. “Secret.”

“Very well, then,” Oliver shrugged, knowing that feigning disinterest was the best way for Middlemarch to reveal the secret.

“Let’s just say, I was a snake in the grass caught in a lioness’s trap.”

“A snake?” Realization dawning in on him, Oliver straightened his back. “Was it you who won the auction tonight?”

Middlemarch smirked. “That was me. One hundred and forty pounds for an ungrateful bride.”

“What? Are you saying that Mrs. Dove-Lyon auctioned that young woman?” Oliver lowered his voice to a whisper.

“That’s correct.”

“She was the prize?” Oliver shook his head. “This is utter madness. It cannot be true.”

“Oh, I can assure you it is absolutely real,” Middlemarch said.

“Did you know that you were bidding on a woman?”

“I knew as much as everyone else here knows that when a gentleman participates in any of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s games, he might end up winning a bride.”

“Good God!” Oliver said again. “Did the lady in question know she was being auctioned off like a filly?”

“Not only did she know, but she also most likely paid for the privilege.”

“What?” Oliver couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Surely you know the widow arranges marriages.”

“Arranges them, yes. Auctions off women—no.”

“There’s more than one way to arrange a marriage. And Mrs. Dove-Lyon is very creative. A desperate woman will pay a hefty sum to secure a husband, especially a baron like myself.” Middlemarch sniffed in apparent disgust. “I can only imagine what they would pay for an earl.”

Oliver could not believe what he was hearing. What kind of woman permits herself to be auctioned into marriage? How desperate must her circumstances be —A sudden thought hit him like a punch to the gut. A woman who has discovered she is with child out of wedlock would be desperate enough to do such a thing. Did Miss Sheldon agree to auction herself off in order to secure a father for her babe, because I refused Dove-Lyon’s offer? If so, he could not let this marriage go through.

“Interesting,” Oliver said, trying not to show his revulsion for Middlemarch or his regard for Miss Sheldon. “And when are you intending to marry the young lady in question?”

“When she learns to show me respect.”

“Oh dear,” Olive said, swallowing his fury. “It sounds as if you regret your impulsiveness.”

“No regrets,” Middlemarch said. “She’s quite attractive. And I have had a difficult time finding a woman suited to my needs.”

“Your needs?” Oliver asked, hoping the conversation wasn’t about to become even more repulsive.

“Yes. I want someone young, fertile, and pretty to look at. I think it’s a blight on a man to have an unattractive filly on his arm. But she must be desperate and destitute, so that I can mold her—teach her to know her place.”

Control her, more the like. Oliver clenched his fists under the table. “Still, this one sounds like more trouble than she is worth.”

“On the contrary, I think I will enjoy the challenge.”

“The challenge?” Oliver asked.

“Of taming the shrew as Shakespeare put it.” Middlemarch sipped his brandy. “That filly needs a firm hand.”

Oliver inhaled deeply. It was all he could do to stop himself from hitting the man . How could Mrs. Dove-Lyon pair the lovely Miss Sheldon with this odious creature? What kind of father will he be to her child? Oliver shook his head. But who was he to question the Black Widow? She only did what Miss Sheldon had paid her to do—secure her a husband and a father for her unborn babe. In all fairness, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had tried to get him to marry Miss Sheldon, and he’d refused. Yet, he could not stand by and let her marry Middlemarch.

What could be done if they were already betrothed? Any contract with Dove-Lyon would have to be honored.

“To be clear, you haven’t set a date for the wedding?” Oliver asked, his mind still churning. He’d need time if he wanted to think of a plan that would work.

“Not yet. We only signed the contract tonight, and I want to see her tamed before I get the license, so she knows my demands are serious. If she wants to be Lady Middlemarch, she will show her loyalty and obedience to me first.”

Oliver thought of his fiery Beatrice. How he’d loved her bold spirit. The thought of a man like Middlemarch forcing her, or any woman, into submission made his blood boil. Middlemarch didn’t deserve Miss Sheldon or her babe.

“That’s a shame.” Oliver stood up, overwhelmed by his own grief and anger.

“What do you mean?”

“I quite like a spirited woman. And I think it would be a shame to see Miss Sheldon tamed by the likes of you.”

Oliver smiled upon seeing Middlemarch’s smug expression crumble. “And one more thing, don’t boast about the auction. It only makes you sound like a fool who can’t attract a bride based on his own merits.”

Then he turned and strode out of the gaming room.

Kate sat on a garden bench and breathed in the fresh night air. She needed to compose herself. Her aunt was right. She’d have to apologize to Middlemarch. She’d have to be compliant, and she’d have to maintain that for the rest of her life—for her babe’s sake. She cleared the sorrow from her throat and stood up, ready to go inside and face her future.

“Miss Sheldon,” a man’s voice addressed her.

Her heart pulsed. It was him. The earl. He stood before her, tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a white linen shirt and cravat fitted under a midnight blue waistcoat and matching tailcoat, paired with tan trousers and black top boots. His strong jaw, chiseled features, and mesmerizing eyes were the opposite of Middlemarch’s small, mealy face. Looking at him made her want to weep with regret. Why had she let herself be auctioned?

“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, yet. I’m Lord Knox. I know it’s improper to come and introduce myself, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon spoke so highly of you, I feel as if I already know you.” He gave her a warm smile—one that softened his features and revealed a genuine kindness of heart.

Her breath caught in her throat. Yet she stiffened at the reference to his conversation with Mrs. Dove-Lyon and turned her face in an effort to shield her embarrassment. “Yes, of course,” she murmured, barely able to get the words out.

“I hope I haven’t upset you,” he said.

She couldn’t let him see her being weak, even though that’s how she felt. “Just what exactly did Mrs. Dove-Lyon tell you about me?” she asked, turning to face him again.

He ran a hand through his thick, sandy hair and seemed to contemplate his words before saying, “She explained your predicament. And why you are in need of a husband.”

“I see.” Humiliated beyond anything she’d ever experienced, Kate felt herself stiffen even more as she wondered just how much of her predicament the widow had divulged. “And you obviously wanted no part of that, so why are you here now?”

“That’s not entirely true,” he said, locking his soft gray eyes on her face, and making her skin tingle. “My circumstances are…well, regardless, I wanted to warn you about Middlemarch. I know the man, and he isn’t someone you—or any woman—should spend their life with.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Kate said, embarrassed, but also oddly relieved to be talking about her predicament with this stranger. “I don’t have a choice.”

He cleared his throat. “I understand. I was present at the auction.”

Kate’s cheeks flamed. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice was gentle and sincere, making Kate want to gravitate toward its warmth. “I only wanted to tell you that there are ways to extract yourself from a contract. All it takes is a lot of money and a bit of power.”

“I don’t have any money”—she stopped, suddenly suspicious. “Are you offering to purchase me as well?”

“Not you. Your freedom.”

Kate scoffed. “And what shall I do then? Clearly, everyone knows I was auctioned off like a donkey. I’m a laughing stock.”

“No one else knows. I can assure you that none of the other participants remember a thing. They were all very drunk.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter since I am to be married and quite possibly locked away forever.”

“I can’t allow that.” He inched closer to her “I won’t let Middlemarch break you—he will crush your spirit.”

“And what concern is my spirit of yours? As I said before, it’s my understanding that you told Mrs. Dove-Lyon you wanted nothing to do with me.” She could hardly believe her bold words, but fear, humiliation, and frustration made her unapologetic. Why was this man taunting her with his chiseled face and kind words? He didn’t want her. He’d made that clear.

“I had my reasons for declining Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s proposal—deeply personal reasons. But seeing you with Middlemarch—the way he treats you. I can’t let that happen. I wish to help you, and I am in a position to do so.”

Kate forced a smile. He felt sorry for her, and she didn’t care to be his charity project. Although she could not articulate why. She needed help but taking help from him—a man she wanted despite his rejection—seemed too humiliating. “I thank you for your offer and warning, Lord Knox. Perhaps if the circumstances were different,” she said brusquely and straightened her back. It was time to face up to her responsibilities. “Good evening, my lord.” She turned and strode away to find her aunt.