Chapter One
“I’ve never heardof such a thing. A bride auction? What do you mean by this?” Her father sounded aghast as he spoke to his wife in the library.
Emma Bartholomew, who was eavesdropping, pressed her spine against the wall. This was clearly a conversation she was not supposed to hear. But she leaned in closer to the doorway, trying to learn what she could. Her thoughts sharpened with dismay, for it certainly sounded as if her stepmother was trying a desperate means of finding her a husband. But why? There was no reason for it.
Lucy lowered her voice for a moment, and Emma couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. Then her stepmother continued, “Henry, we have to do something. And this will work, I promise you. You’ve been wanting Emma to be married for years now. This is an excellent way to find her a titled husband of wealth. She’s certainly not going to find a husband on her own. It’s been what—five years since her first Season?”
“She’s not a painting, Lucy. We can’t just... auction her off.” Her father cleared his throat, and Emma took another step toward the doorway, leaning in closer. His voice held confusion, and he added, “I don’t like this idea at all. It’s probably illegal as well.”
At least Papa was on her side. She took consolation in that, thankfully. He would never allow Lucy to sell her like an object. Emma took several slow breaths, listening intently.
“We’re not hosting an auction forEmma, my dear husband,” Lucy reassured him. “We will find something else to auction off. A painting or a statue. But whoever wins the auction will also win Emma’s hand in marriage. And whatever price they pay for the painting, we will tell them that we will match it and add it to her dowry.”
Her father mumbled something that Emma couldn’t quite hear, but it didn’t exactly sound like a dismissal. He wasn’t considering it, was he?
Dear God, her stepmother truly did despise her. How could Lucy simply sell her off to the highest bidder? What person would do such a thing? And what suitor would ever agree to it, except a man who was unable to find a wife under normal circumstances? Which meant that her potential husband would be ancient, strange, or impossibly unattractive.
No. Absolutely not. She could never do such a thing.
“This is very unusual, Lucy,” Henry said. “I cannot say that I approve. We will need to discuss it with Emma.”
She nearly laughed at that. Lucy’s idea of a discussion was simply to tell both of them what would happen and why. She never listened to their thoughts, and Emma was quite certain that this conversation would be no exception.
Behind her, she heard the heavy footsteps of a footman walking past her and into the library. She winced, realizing that someone, at least, was aware that she’d been eavesdropping. Rupert was a kindly footman, however, and probably would not tell her father.
“Ah, Rupert,” her father said. “Be so good as to bring my daughter Emma inside.”
Emma closed her eyes a moment. It was better to pretend she was passing by than for the footman to tell him the truth, that she’d been eavesdropping outside the door. Before Rupert could speak, she quickly walked four steps to the right and then circled left again to walk the remaining six steps inside the library. “Father, I was passing by, and I thought I overheard you asking for me?” She kept her tone calm and innocent, as if she had no idea what they’d been discussing.
To her right, she could smell the heavy lavender scent Lucy favored. Her stepmother bathed in it, packed her clothing with lavender sachets, and wore lavender perfume. Even now, the aroma made Emma faintly nauseous.
“Indeed, I did.” Henry cleared his throat again. “Lucy and I were having a discussion just now. Have you... given any thought to marriage?”
Bless her poor father’s ignorance. Henry honestly believed that the reason why she hadn’t married was because she wasn’t interested. Emma tried to gather an appropriate response, but before she could speak, Lucy cut her off.
“Of course, she’s thought of marriage, Henry. What do you think we’ve been spending money on all these years? New gowns, lessons—and none of it is working. It’s time to change our strategy.”
There was no denying the frustration in Lucy’s voice. But Emma held fast to one hope—that Papa would never allow this so-called auction to happen. He loved her and wanted what was best for her—unlike Lucy, who clearly wanted to be rid of her. Even after five years, Emma had never truly understood why her stepmother seemed to dislike her so. From the moment they’d met, Lucy had tried to arrange a marriage for her—probably so she wouldn’t have to be a stepmother at all.
“I would like to marry the right sort of gentleman,” Emma said quietly. “But most of them are not interested in me.”
It was the truth. She’d been a wallflower all her life, and that wouldn’t change. She couldn’t dance, conversation was nearly impossible, and she had to be careful that she didn’t lose count of her steps. No man wanted her, and if that meant being a spinster, then such was her fate.
Yes, shedidwant a husband. And lots of children. But after being ignored by suitor after suitor, including the less-than-desirable men, she’d laid those hopes to rest.
“There are many men who do not care about your... eccentricities or your clumsiness,” Lucy continued as if Emma hadn’t spoken. “I have begun making a list of candidates, and I have decided to host an auction for your hand in marriage. We will say it is for art, but only unmarried gentlemen may come.”
She was serious. Hearing it stated so baldly, Emma gaped at her in disbelief. “No. I will not be sold like livestock.”
Lucy ignored her and turned back to Henry, “Emma can help select the guests. That way she does have some say in whom she will marry.”
“That’s... true,” her father acceded. He seemed to ponder it a moment, which Emma had never expected. He was supposed to support her, not join in his wife’s ridiculous scheming.
“I would allow it,” he said, “but only if Emma is in agreement.”
“Absolutely not,” she said. “The very idea is awful.” But she worried that Lucy would continue wearing down her father until he gave in, despite what he’d said. She sifted through ideas, trying to think of a way to change their minds. Why did she have to marry so soon? She’d already waited five Seasons. It was already July, so couldn’t she simply finish the sixth Season and try again next year?
“I don’t have to marry right away,” she hedged. “I am still only three-and-twenty.”
