Had she truly bitten off more than she could handle by vowing to see Pru and the soldier court?
“And the last submission of the night, with a late admission—” the mayor fixed his wire-framed spectacles, “—an offer from Duke Tressingham. The winner of the highest bid will win a dance with His Grace tonight at the accompanying ball.”
Cecilia’s head snapped to the right so fast the pins in her hair jolted out of place. Cassian looked unbothered while a ripple of whispers went through the room.
Her mouth opened but closed when she could not find the words to say.
“We will start the bidding at fifty pounds,” the mayor declared.
Her hand clenched on her lap as the bids came in like a relaying volley. Fifty bounced to seventy, seventy went to a hundred, and soon enough, the sum was to five hundred.
As innocent as it was… it felt filthy.
Why doesn’t he just get in a dais in the market, remove his clothes, and hold up a sign saying ‘Goes to the highest bidder.’
The back of her neck went stiff, and she wished she had just told him about the donation instead of allowing her plans to spectacularly backfire.
“Seven hundred pounds,” the mayor said, his keen gaze flickering over the gathering. “Any other bids? Seven hundred and twenty?”
A lady lifted her hand halfway but pulled it down quickly. “Going once…” the mayor said, “Going twice…” another look, “…Sold to Lady Charity.”
Even seated, Cecilia felt her head start to spin. Was this as innocent as it seemed on the surface, or was it a calculated act to embarrass her? Taking a look at Cassian, it bamboozled her to see how unaffected he looked.
Across the room, Lady Charity leaned into the ear of a lady beside her and came away with a satisfied smirk on her face. The twinkle in the lady’s eyes made something ugly curdle inside her stomach.
She blinked away the burn in her breastbone.
This was not jealousy—it could not be. She felt nothing—well, aside from disapproval and a hint of attraction—for Cassian.
“That concludes the auction for this year’s festival,” the mayor stepped back. “I thank you, good gentlemen and gentlewomen, for your generous support. Your contributions will greatly help the community and extend the aid to the children’s homes and our farmers.”
“The assembly room, now ballroom, is ready for you, so please, make your way over there,” the mayor announced.
Cecilia did not know what to do. Couldn’t Cassian have offered something else? A carriage, a painting, or even a jewel? Why did he have to offer himself up like a lamb to the slaughter?
“Cassian,” she said quietly. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked.
“Offer a dance,” she said. “And a waltz at that.”
“It’s only a dance, Cecilia,” Cassian smiled soothingly as he crossed the hallway to the second room. “It’s not a private sojourn to the mountainside or a voyage to the Indies.”
Her stomach soured. “It is still unseemly.”
“Now Iknowyou are jealous,” Cassian teased.
“I am not,” her eyes narrowed.
“And the moon is made of cheese,” he laughed. “Admit it.”
“There is nothing to be jealous of,” she said while squashing the memory of mere moments ago. Indeed, she was jealous, but she could not dare admit it. It did not matter how badly the woman rubbed her raw.
“Do as you like,” she said, tipping her nose up. “Just do not embarrass yourself.”
The ballroom was not outfitted as it would be if it were in a peer's home, but the intricate molding around the ceiling and a bronze chandelier hanging in the center of the room lent the air of opulence to it. The sconces on the wall added more soft lightaround the room, and a string quintet was on the dais at the end of the room.
A waiter passed by, and Cassian took two glasses of champagne for himself and for her. Grudgingly, she took the glass while trying to find a way to impress on him her worry about Lady Charity.
