The Widow's Auction Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lady Kingsley would not enjoy any liaison with Bradford.
    Besides, Justin had reasons of his own for wanting to win her. He wanted to know precisely why she was doing this. He wanted to see how far she’d take it.
    And yes, some ungentlemanly part of him wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine. Lecture him on morality, would she? After tonight, she wouldn’t try that again, not if he had anything to say about it. Oh, yes, he’d make her eat her words, he would.
    But first he’d give her enough rope to hang herself. Let her quake in her boots when she saw who won the bid. Let her think he truly meant to bed her. If that didn’t mortify her into begging his mercy, he didn’t know what would. The foolish woman needed to be mortified if she was going to embark on idiotic schemes like this.
    No, what she needed was to have someone strike the fear of God into her. Which he fully intended to do. Judging by her blushes, this was her first time at the Widows’ Auction. She couldn’t possibly realize how foolish, how dangerous this game was for a woman with her sheltered upbringing.
    Well, he’d make sure she realized it by the time this night was over. He’d win this bid if he had to go into debt to do it. Because there was no way in hell he was passing up this chance to best the superior Lady Kingsley.

3
    Isobel frantically tried to pick out the two men who’d placed bids, but it was difficult in the cramped room. This sordid assembly of drunken men making indecent comments wasn’t at all what she’d expected. If one of these unkempt fellows had been the one to bid, she’d simply die.
    She should never have listened to Phoebe. She should have realized this would turn out to be awful. How could it not? Scanning the room again, she fought to ignore her spinning head and the close, stale air that pressed in on her until she feared she’d faint.
    And the embarrassment. The absolute mortification of being up here on public display. . . 
    â€œA hundred pounds,” the first voice called again, and this time she located it.
    Her heart sank. Oh, dear, not Lord Bradford. She’d had enough trouble resigning herself to this course of action. But to have it be him who bid on her. . . Why, it was too much to bear! He would guess who she was the instant she neared him! Even if by some chance he didn’t, she couldn’t endure having that disgusting creature put his hands on her.
    Heavens, this was such a dreadful mistake! She should have fled the moment she realized what this was like.
    But she’d seen what had happened to some poor woman who’d balked earlier. They’d teased and taunted her and then unmasked her. . . Oh, no, she dared not risk that .
    All she could hope was that someone would bid against the earl. A futile hope. The highest bid so far that night had been a hundred pounds for a lithe beauty who’d flaunted her wares with the practice of a dockside tart. No one would bid that much for a blushing miss who looked utterly out of place amid the flashy gowns and low décolletage of the other widows.
    â€œTwo hundred,” a dry voice called out from right beside Lord Bradford, and her heart leapt.
    Until she saw who it was. Lord Warbrooke? Here? Oh, dear Lord in heaven. Only by holding on to the auctioneer’s arm did she keep from fainting. This was even more horrible! Lord Warbrooke would surely use this to his advantage if he won. Oh, if only she could flee!
    God Almighty had clearly handpicked the two men she’d least want to see her here. It must be His idea of an appropriate punishment for a woman engaging in such a rash and immoral act.
    She could think of no other reason than divine intervention for Lord Warbrooke’s presence. The very eligible and self-assured marquess didn’t need to purchase companionship; he could have all he wanted for free. And if he did purchase it, he