Oliver’s blood boiled in his veins. But he smiled and pretended to sympathize. “Women want nothing more than your title and money.”
“Exactly, and that would be fine if they at least showed a bit of gratitude. But that young lady behaves as though I am doing her a favor by marrying her.”
“Marrying her?” Oliver’s heart sank. “She’s your betrothed?”
Middlemarch nodded.
“How did an intelligent gentleman like you become ensnared by such a conniving young lady?” Oliver tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Apparently, he’d succeeded because Middlemarch grinned. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” He smacked his thin lips in a revolting manner. “Secret.”
“Very well, then,” Oliver shrugged, knowing that feigning disinterest was the best way for Middlemarch to reveal the secret.
“Let’s just say, I was a snake in the grass caught in a lioness’s trap.”
“A snake?” Realization dawning in on him, Oliver straightened his back. “Was it you who won the auction tonight?”
Middlemarch smirked. “That was me. One hundred and forty pounds for an ungrateful bride.”
“What? Are you saying that Mrs. Dove-Lyon auctioned that young woman?” Oliver lowered his voice to a whisper.
“That’s correct.”
“She was the prize?” Oliver shook his head. “This is utter madness. It cannot be true.”
“Oh, I can assure you it is absolutely real,” Middlemarch said.
“Did you know that you were bidding on a woman?”
“I knew as much as everyone else here knows that when a gentleman participates in any of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s games, he might end up winning a bride.”
“Good God!” Oliver said again. “Did the lady in question know she was being auctioned off like a filly?”
“Not only did she know, but she also most likely paid for the privilege.”
“What?” Oliver couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Surely you know the widow arranges marriages.”
“Arranges them, yes. Auctions off women—no.”
“There’s more than one way to arrange a marriage. And Mrs. Dove-Lyon is very creative. A desperate woman will pay a hefty sum to secure a husband, especially a baron like myself.” Middlemarch sniffed in apparent disgust. “I can only imagine what they would pay for an earl.”
Oliver could not believe what he was hearing.What kind of woman permits herself to be auctioned into marriage? How desperate must her circumstances be—A sudden thought hit him like a punch to the gut.A woman who has discovered she is with child out of wedlock would be desperate enough to do such a thing. Did Miss Sheldon agree to auction herself off in order to secure a father for her babe, because I refused Dove-Lyon’s offer?If so, he could not let this marriage go through.
“Interesting,” Oliver said, trying not to show his revulsion for Middlemarch or his regard for Miss Sheldon. “And when are you intending to marry the young lady in question?”
“When she learns to show me respect.”
“Oh dear,” Olive said, swallowing his fury. “It sounds as if you regret your impulsiveness.”
“No regrets,” Middlemarch said. “She’s quite attractive. And I have had a difficult time finding a woman suited to my needs.”
“Your needs?” Oliver asked, hoping the conversation wasn’t about to become even more repulsive.
“Yes. I want someone young, fertile, and pretty to look at. I think it’s a blight on a man to have an unattractive filly on his arm. But she must be desperate and destitute, so that I can mold her—teach her to know her place.”
Control her, more the like. Oliver clenched his fists under the table. “Still, this one sounds like more trouble than she is worth.”
