Chapter 16
Edwina’s nerve endings sharpened in response to the new arrival. He was tall, broad-shouldered, without a hint of softness about him. Dangerous was the first word that came to mind. Even his eyes, as they stared toward her, looked like a pair of portals to hell.
She swallowed, attempting as best she could to suppress her rising panic.
If he bid on her and won…
He would not be as easy for her to escape as one of the others, whom she suspected might underestimate her.
This man, however, did not look like he’d be fooled by her plan to pretend she remained incapacitated.
Rather, he looked like the sort who’d make sure she received an extra dose of smoke before spiriting her away.
When she woke next, it would likely be in a terrifying dungeon beneath his estate. A place where no one would think to look. Somewhere Sebastian would never find her.
The horror of such a prospect sent tremors shooting through each of her limbs. It took a near insurmountable effort to quash the effect so no one would notice.
Stay strong. Bide your time. Don’t give up yet.
“And you are?” Mr. Grover asked. He’d just finished auctioning off a nude painting to one of the men in the front row.
“Were I to disclose that, I’d hardly remain anonymous,” the new arrival replied, his voice as rough as a storm-whipped ocean. Cold and brutal.
“Do you have an invitation?”
“No.” The man stepped forward. “The event was brought to my master’s attention by one of your guests. I might add that his lordship was most displeased to discover that he had not been included. Hence my presence.”
Sharp inhales of breath conveyed the shock of those present. Whether caused by the fact that someone had betrayed the secret surrounding the auction, or that a peer of unknown rank would now join the bidding, Edwina wasn’t sure. What she struggled to fathom was which peer it might be.
Her comprehension of Debrett’s was decent, especially pertaining to the uppermost ranks. But who would be diabolical enough to attend an event such as this?
“I must insist that you divulge the identity of he who betrayed our trust,” said Mr. Grover, distracting Edwina from her thoughts.
“No.” The newcomer advanced another two steps, his mouth a solid line that brooked no nonsense.
“There will be no more betrayals this evening. On the contrary, I recommend that you carry on as intended, lest you wish to enjoy a lengthy sojourn at Newgate, Mr. Grover. Or would you rather I call you, Havilland?”
So Edwina was right in remembering Havilland as the name Grover had given her.
She watched from beneath lowered lashes as Mr. Grover’s stiff posture slackened.
He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but when he said nothing, the newcomer raised the box he carried.
He then stepped aside to reveal the errand boy who stood behind him, holding another box crafted from wood.
“As a gesture of goodwill, his lordship insisted I not show up empty handed,” the newcomer said. “Thus, I present you with Maison Beaumont’s finest cake along with a couple of bottles of Veuve Clicquot from Berry Brothers and Rudd.”
“What a treat,” a guest exclaimed.
“Splendid,” said another while the newcomer directed the errand boy to place his box on the side table next to a couple of decanters, which probably contained brandy.
“Maison Beaumont is without doubt the best bakery in the land,” said a third. “Fulfilling an order with them on short notice is absolutely impossible. However did you manage?”
“I only needed to mention my master’s name,” the newcomer drawled.
He handed the cake box to the errand boy when he returned to the man’s side, and the lad placed that on the table as well.
“Indeed, I believe the cake I’ve brought was meant for the Earl and Countess of Glendale’s jubilee.
But now it is here, and they’ll have to manage without. ”
Additional gasps and murmurs followed. Mr. Grover tugged on his cravat but said nothing more as the newcomer strode to the front, tapped another man on the shoulder, and jerked his head to one side.
The seated man promptly stood, gestured toward the chair he’d vacated, as though offering it to the newcomer, and retreated to one side where he remained standing.
The newcomer sat, swept his lethal gaze in Edwina’s direction, and smirked in a manner that made her skin crawl. Dear merciful heavens. She was going to pray for death before the night was through.
“Please proceed,” the newcomer told Mr. Grover.
He added a careless wave of his hand that seemed to make Mr. Grover’s jaw twitch.
Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and announced the next piece; a French journal written by one of Louis XIV’s mistresses.
This was followed by several drawings, a painting, and another book said to be from the Orient.
Edwina wondered if any of those present would have the ability to read it, then realized this would not be required when Mr. Grover held it up for all to see. It contained only illustrations. The kind that would likely make courtesans blush.
Reminding herself to keep acting as though she had no wits about her, Edwina buried her outrage as deep as possible and affected an unfocused gaze.
“And now,” Mr. Grover declared, “the prize of this evening’s event — the thing you have all been waiting for – a diamond of the first water, untouched and pure. I present to you, the Duke of Wrengate’s sister, the one and only, Lady Edwina.”
* * *
The burst of interest that swept the room was enough to make James want to slash the throat of every man present.
Instead, he refrained from reaching for one of the three blades he carried and resorted to clenching his fists.
To stand against a crowd of fifteen would be a foolish endeavor.
Possible, perhaps, if he only had himself to consider, but to do so while also saving Lady Edwina would only make his rescue attempt harder.
So he took a deep breath and tried to infuse his riotous bloodstream with a deliberate sense of calm.
“Perhaps a reprieve before we continue?” he suggested and gestured toward the table where the champagne and cake awaited. “I’m personally parched.”
“Oh, yes,” someone else said.
“A drink would be welcome,” came another remark.
“Champagne does make for a more festive atmosphere,” was the next comment. “And with that lovely thing up for grabs, there’s certainly cause to celebrate.”
“Just think of the lucky bastard who wins her,” a husky voice added with a chuckle. “I for one would take great pleasure in knowing I tupped Wrengate’s sister.”
James gnashed his teeth. A quick death was too good for these men. He wanted to torture each of them first. Slowly. And yet somehow, he managed to act as though he agreed with what they were saying, as though he shared their sordid opinions, and perverted hankerings.
A bath would be in order later, so he could wash away the filth this evening’s event had covered him in.
The only small blessing was the champagne. It truly was delicious.
He gulped down several refreshing sips before setting his glass aside and declining the cake. It was time to start the bidding, with Mr. Grover setting the minimum sum at a staggering twenty-thousand pounds. A much higher amount than what Croft had predicted.
Yet James had come here with a purpose, and he had no intention of letting anyone else leave with Lady Edwina. So he casually raised his hand along with a few other men, and continued to do so with each subsequent sum Mr. Grover called out.
“Fifty-thousand,” Mr. Grover eventually declared, a greedy smile curling his lips.
Again, James raised his hand and noted that only one other man followed suit this time.
The auction would soon be over. Except, as the seconds wore on, it seemed his competitor had no intention of losing.
The annoying man kept raising his hand until they were nearing eighty-thousand pounds. And surpassed it.
“Eighty-three thousand pounds,” Mr. Grover said.
James raised his hand. So did his opponent.
He sent the man a sidelong glance. “I’m guessing you’re either in love with the chit or loathe her brother.”
“Perhaps my motive is altogether different, though I can’t help but wonder what yours might be.”
James raised his hand as eighty-five thousand was called. He knew that voice but couldn’t quite place it.
“Ninety-thousand,” Mr. Grover intoned, his voice a jarring sound in the now silent room.
James raised his hand once more, but this time he noted the other man’s hesitation. Yet he continued to bid, through ninety-one thousand, ninety-two, ninety-three…all the way to ninety-nine.
Mr. Grover took a big breath, and then, “One. Hundred. Thousand. Pounds.”
James raised his hand while glancing toward his opponent. The man appeared frozen in time.
“One hundred thousand,” Mr. Grover repeated.
James’s opponent finally shook his head and slumped in his seat.
“Going once,” Mr. Grover said, “Going twice… Sold, to the gentleman in the front row.”
Clapping ensued, accompanied by words of congratulations directed at James.
He breathed a sigh of relief even as he reminded himself that this had been the easy part.
Although he might have won Lady Edwina, he’d yet to whisk her away from this place and to safety, before anyone realized his deception.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Mr. Grover. “This concludes the event. Please prepare your bearer notes according to your winnings. Since the available funds cannot be verified until morning, I invite you to spend the night in the rooms that have been prepared for your convenience.”
James froze. There had been no mention of this in the message relayed by Murdoch’s informant.
“You cannot be serious,” one of the other guests said. “If you intended for us to remain here all night, you should have said so in the invitation so we could prepare.”
It seemed James was not the only one who’d been taken by surprise.