Chapter 1
Chapter One
“My Lady, you look beautiful.”
Lady Verity Byrd, the sister of the Duke of Ravenwood, looked up. Her breath caught at the compliment, a forced smile already fixed in place.
Her lady’s maid, Georgia, stood behind her, adjusting the train of her wedding dress. The lace of the bodice was rough beneath Verity’s hands as she smoothed them down it, steeling herself.
“I just have two more pearls to pin to your hair, and then you’ll be ready to—”
Verity whirled away from her reflection in the mirror, only to find a broad figure filling the doorway of her chamber in Ravenwood House. Her dark curls shook out the loose pearls that hadn’t been fixed into place yet, and she cringed as they hit the floor.
“Uncle,” she said, trying to sound firm, trying not to cower. “I did not hear you come up—”
“Why is Lady Verity not yet ready?” Uncle John looked right past her and fixed Georgia with a glare.
“I believe Mrs. Bowers gave you specific instructions that she was to be ready by midday.” He pulled his pocket watch out of his waistcoat, which strained at the seams. “It is two minutes past twelve.”
“It is my fault, Uncle John,” Verity interjected, her heart racing in panic. “I-I was late coming up from breakfast and—”
“Verity.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he dropped his hand, he gave her that horrible sneer that made her feel too judged, too exposed. “I do not need your excuses. I need your haste. Come. Many suitors are looking forward to seeing you in your wedding gown.”
“Uncle John,” she began weakly. “Please, end this. You can still send the suitors away and—”
“Enough,” her uncle snapped. “I won’t hear another word. You are far past a marriageable age, at nine-and-twenty. I am humiliated by you, so you will find a husband among the men gathered downstairs. If you dare protest one more time—”
“No.” Verity’s desperation and humiliation came out in a hard, angry refusal. “No, Uncle.”
“No? You dare to say no to me?” Her uncle looked her up and down.
His eyes were too seeing, too piercing, and though Georgia had only just scurried out of the room, Verity felt very naked.
“I do,” she declared, her voice lacking the confidence she sorely needed. “Especially when I’m going to be sold off to a stranger.”
“Then perhaps you will dare to marry me instead. Perhaps you will let me take you as my wife instead of parading yourself before the suitors I have gathered here.”
Her uncle stepped forward, his hands already reaching for her hips, before one slid up to her corset and the other grabbed the back of her thigh.
Verity inhaled sharply, another refusal rushing to the tip of her tongue.
“No,” she snapped. “I said no.” She batted his groping hands away, feeling both sick and humiliated at once. “You are sick, Uncle John, if you think you can take me as your wife. I am your niece. Please—please, do not make me go through this. Not with you, not with the suitors, not with—”
Her uncle barked a dark laugh, cutting her off. “Oh, Verity. Verity, Verity, Verity, my darling girl.”
She recoiled at what should have been natural affection, but everything changed after he had groped her. She could still feel his fingers digging into the meat of her thighs.
“You must be looking forward to the attention, my little spinster. You must feel the loss of suitors asking you to dance at balls, no? I will dance with you, and if you play it right, any of the men downstairs will do the same. But then again, nobody would show interest in a spinster like you if I had not arranged it.”
Verity made a pained nose in the back of her throat, unable to find the fierce words she needed.
That did not stop her uncle from continuing.
“Still, you have more-than-generous breasts, and you remain fertile, yes? That is good enough for most men. What more can you ask for, dear Verity? Besides, I have a potential business partner waiting downstairs to see how you look in a wedding gown. Do this right, my lovely niece, and you’ll secure not only your future, but mine as well. He is the one with—”
Verity did not care who the man was. “I want to see my little brother first.”
Uncle John laughed loud and hard. “Oh, that mischievous miscreant? I have sent him out with his governess, along with that beast he calls a pet. Trinky. Somebody ought to keep him busy and out of the way.”
“Trinket,” Verity snapped, thinking of her half-brother’s beloved dog.
“Whatever.” Her uncle waved a dismissive hand.
“Either way, you will see Archibald at your ceremony, but that requires you to get picked first. So, behave, Verity. I will be watching. I have looked into these men, but I still have a list of who is most worthy of a diamond like you—even though you are a spinster.”
Her eyes widened. “I have to wait that long?”
“The timing depends on you.” Her uncle’s smile made her feel ill. “Now, your future husband will want to sample you before your wedding night. After all, they have not come to waste their money. They will want…” He curled his fingers into his palm. “A taste.”
Before she could think better of it, Verity raised her hand and slapped her uncle across the cheek. She glared at him, her lip curling as he snarled at her.
“You are a monster,” she hissed. “When Vincent returns, he will punish you for this. He will have your head and—”
Her uncle’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, and he slammed her against the mirror, knocking the breath out of her.
“You na?ve, idiotic fool,” he spat, his face too close to hers.
“When will you accept the fact that your brother is dead? Your precious twin is likely already buried beneath some frozen wasteland, not even six feet deep, left to rot and be forgotten. As such, you are mine to watch over. Men who vanish for so long as your brother has… they rarely return alive.”
Verity’s body tensed, every part of her pushing away the macabre image of Vincent being swallowed by the earth. She let her anger take over, glaring at her uncle.
“You do not know—” she protested.
Uncle John’s hand tightened on her wrist. “Do not ever raise your hand to me again, you chit,” he snarled, cutting her off.
“You only have a roof over your head because of my generosity, but it can run out. Do not test me, do not push me. And if you think you can fight against your future husband similarly, then forget it. I will not have you ruin any of my business deals.”
“I—”
“Think of young Archibald,” he spoke over her, his voice lowering.
“Think of that poor, innocent boy, never knowing that he would be paying for your mistakes. With such a disobedient sister, I’d have to ensure that he becomes nothing like you.
Maybe I should send him to a military academy.
And goodness, who knows what sort of accident could befall him during training?
His fate remains in your hands, Verity.”
I loathe you, I loathe you, I loathe you, Verity chanted in her head.
A glare was not enough to convey just how deep her hatred of her uncle was. Her hand twitched, and she almost gave in to the urge to slap him again.
His eyes dropped to her hand as if he knew. “Now, now…” He smirked at her.
Verity would have loved nothing more than to knee him between the thighs at that moment. Still, could not risk her brother’s future.
Archie was innocent, only a boy of seven. He deserved safety, stability, and a loving home. She doubted he would get all three under their uncle’s care, but if she didn’t follow the wicked man’s orders, she would never see Archie again.
She wouldn’t fail another brother again.
Verity let her hand go slack.
Finally, her uncle let go of her wrist and stepped back from her.
“Good,” he purred. “Very good girl.”
Her stomach churned, and she bit back a retort.
Even if she did remain good and comply with his wishes, how did she know her little brother would remain safe?
“Please,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Please do not harm Archie. Give me your word that he will be safe.”
Her uncle’s hand brushed against her cheek, and she forced herself not to flinch. “Only if you follow my plans, darling niece.”
Niece. You do not even know the meaning of family, you sick, twisted—
Verity nodded.
“Now, move,” Uncle John snarled, shoving her out of the room, not even giving her one last minute to herself.
Verity knew any protest would be futile, so she let herself be dragged down to the main wing of the house, fighting the urge to pull away and flee the estate altogether.
Stepping inside the parlor, her breath caught. More furniture had been brought into the room to set up what looked like an auction.
There was no way around that fact: she was being auctioned off.
Her spine stiffened as she took in the several older lords who sat in the first row, as if desperate to get the first look at her.
It was easy to conclude that these men, who were at risk of dying heirless, had been overlooked in favor of young, handsome lords, and now simply needed to find a convenient wife.
Their gazes were utterly lecherous, making Verity feel as though they were peeling off her dress with their eyes. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself.
“Heavens,” one lord whispered to another, leaning back in his seat and bracing his arms as if watching a prized horse race to the finish line. He grinned at her. “She is much more delicious than I expected.”
“Indeed.” The man next to him looked her up and down slowly. “Although the neckline could have been a little lower. Her chest is most alluring; it is a shame to have her assets covered.”
The two of them laughed together as if she could not hear them.
Verity swallowed back bile. She looked at her uncle, who merely jerked his head at her to go further into the room. When she couldn’t bring herself to move, he pushed her forward.
Around the parlor, a few servants stood to attention, their eyes deliberately trained away from the scene.
Verity didn’t recognize any of them. Her uncle must have hired new servants to ensure that nobody loyal to her would intervene. More secrets, more cover-ups—all so he could auction her off.
“My good associates,” Uncle John boomed, “as you all know, you are here to view my niece, Verity Byrd. Her face belongs in a painting, and her voice is as angelic as a nightingale’s.
And her body… well, you may see for yourself.
Imagine her as your bride, walking down the aisle towards you, primed and ready to serve you.
And, of course, provide heirs to continue your honorable lines. ”
There is nothing honorable about any of these men if they are choosing to participate in this horrid auction.
Her mind drifted to Archie, who had only just turned seven, and would be so confused and lost without her if he were sent away.
Her uncle nodded sternly at her.
Thinking of her brother, Verity began her walk up and down the parlor, feeling every eye on her like a needle. She was paraded, pulled by her uncle when she slowed down, making sure that every disgusting man in the room got a good look at her from every angle.
Dressed in a wedding gown, she could see how they all salivated, how they pictured exactly what her uncle wanted them to. They didn’t care that she was nine-and-twenty; they only cared about her serving them.
“Lift her skirts,” one lord called out, laughing darkly. “I want to see how strong her knees look. She will spend a great deal of time on them.”
Verity’s stomach turned.
“Lord Abberton, I will not do such a thing,” her uncle snorted. “I cannot spoil all the fun before you get her.”
She fought the urge to gag as she continued walking, grateful that her uncle did not lift her skirts. But another lord groped at the dress, pawing clumsily at her as if he wanted to take the matter into his own hands.
She hastily walked on, was circled by her uncle at the first settee, then continued her path.
“I will take her,” a second lord called out. “I’ll give you my entire estate in Cheltenham for her.”
“A considerable price,” Uncle John mused. “But not considerable enough. My dear Verity is very valuable to me. I cannot lose her for one estate.”
“I will give you three estates!” a third lord called out.
“I will give you all my coffers,” yet another offered. “I will hand over my business to you, John, if I can just taste her for one night.”
“I am not giving her away for one night,” Uncle John dismissed.
It seemed he was more offended by the request than by the fact that a man had just spoken about his niece as though she were a common whore.
Her shoulders drew inward, but her uncle wrenched them back. “Be good now, Verity,” he hissed in her ear. “Stand tall. Show them all how you can hold yourself.”
She straightened her shoulders even more, lifted her chin, and gritted her teeth.
This is for Archie. Keep him safe. Keep him with you. Ensure that Uncle John keeps his word. Just comply and figure the rest out later. Stay strong, Verity.
Archie’s face lingered in her mind, and soon it was joined by her twin brother’s. Vincent’s features resembled hers so much that they might have been reflections of the same face. Only their eyes set them apart: Verity with their mother’s soft hazel, and Vincent with their father’s clear green.
She imagined him standing at her side, protective. For she was sure that he would protect her, if not whisk her away. Still, he would also understand her need to see this through for Archie’s sake.
“Surely you are all considering what more you can offer?” Uncle John prompted. “I will consider the most serious offers only. Verity is a lady of high value.”
High value. As though I’m some commodity.
Verity almost tripped in her anger.
“I have offered everything I can,” a lord said, his hair almost gray with age. “But I want her so, so badly. Surely we can come to an agreement?”
“No,” her uncle replied. “I know her worth.”
Verity’s eyes stung with humiliated tears as she was forced to make another turn around the room. One reached out to run a hand down her spine, while another tried to reach for her breasts.
She was going to be sick.
“Final offers, my friends. I will hear your final offers,” Uncle John called out, stopping her in the center of the room.
Thump.
Right as the men raised their hands, ready to give up their valuables for her hand in marriage, the parlor door burst open.
She whirled around to find a man she did not recognize.
A straggler?
No. He was staring at the scene with disgust, his lip curling at the men who were protesting the interruption.
Her eyes widened as he strode further into the room, glancing between her and her uncle.
“What,” he gritted out, “is going on here?”