Page 44 of Courting the Country Miss

After the quadrille, Richard stepped forward and held up his hands. The string quartet silenced. Voices died down.

“Welcome, esteemed guests.” His brother’s voice rang in authority—probably the same voice he used when addressing Parliament.

“As you know, this evening is to benefit a school for orphans, to teach them basic skills so they may become respectable working class instead of thieves and pickpockets and worse. With that end in mind, the supper dance will be an auction. Every lady who feels inclined to do so may come to the front of the room and we gentlemen will auction for the privilege of waltzing with her, and then, of course, enjoy her company throughout supper.”

Lady Brinton, Elizabeth’s sister, stood up first. “I will volunteer.”

A collective sigh came from the guests as the beauty made her way to the middle of the room. Toasted as a diamond of the first water when she arrived on the scene two Seasons ago and later made a match with Lord Brinton, she would surely create a heated bidding.

Richard bowed to Lady Brinton, took her hand, and called out, “What is your offer for the charming Lady Brinton?”

“Ten pounds,” called the Duke of Suttenberg.

“Twenty.” And so the bidding continued. The Duke bid for a dance with his daughter, no doubt to help drive up the bids, as did her husband, Lord Brinton. One lady after another stood next to Richard, smiling as gentlemen caught the spirit of the game proving how generous and deep in the pockets they were. Elizabeth brought in three hundred pounds.

Richard’s chest puffed in obvious pleasure that his bride had fetched such a handsome sum from another gentleman. Tristan grinned. Elizabeth had thought herself plain next to her beautiful sister; perhaps the bid tonight would help dispel that belief.

When Isabella stood, several young bucks bid, each growing more and more reckless. Three hundred pounds also won the supper dance with Isabella. Tristan craned his neck until he spotted the winning bidder, a friend of Richard’s known as a kindly, respectable gentleman. Tristan could trust him not to take advantage of the sweet young lady. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. Next to him, a young man muttered as he watched Isabella take the man’s hand and stand next to the winner until the bidding ended.

Lady Tarrington stood, wife of the Earl of Tarrington. The bidding heated as men vied for the attention of the lady whose beauty had not diminished with age. Her husband won her bid, paying nearly as much for Lady Tarrington as Elizabeth’s bid had fetched.

Leticia stood. Tristan’s stomach tightened. Wearing a stunning gown of ivory trimmed in leaf-green, almost the shade of her eyes, she smiled out at the crowd but he recognized that nervous pull to her mouth. Surely she didn’t fear she would fail to bring a high bid, did she? He must make an effort to compliment her more. Without the near kiss, of course.

She would bring the most money of all, if he had to pay it himself.

“Twenty pounds,” he said at the exact same time as another voice. He glanced around to locate the other voice.

“Thirty,” called someone else.

“Fifty,” bid a third.

Unexplainably annoyed and unable to locate the other voices calling out, Tristan shouted, “Two hundred pounds.”

A brief silence followed his jump in the bidding.

“Two hundred fifty.” Ah. Kensington. Good man to keep his word to help to drive up the bids.

“Three hundred.” Lord Bradbury.

Tristan glared at the back of the lord’s head. “Three hundred twenty-five.”

Bradbury stood. “Four hundred.” His focus fixed upon Leticia who looked stunned.

A collective gasp arose.

“Why, she’s not that beautiful,” a woman whispered to another behind her fan.

“Someone must love her,” said her companion in reply.

“Or be trying to woo her.”

Tristan would not be outdone by the smooth Bradbury. He fisted his hands. “Four hundred twenty-five.”

“Five hundred pounds.” Lord Bradbury’s voice rang out.

Tristan growled. Five hundred pounds? How dare that encroacher step in Tristan’s territory! As he opened his mouth to bid higher, he caught himself. What had gotten into him? He wanted Leticia to spend time with Bradbury. Tristan had picked out the lord for her because he matched all of Leticia’s criteria. Bradbury was perfect for Leticia.

So why did his hackles raise at the thought of that man waltzing in—literally—and having supper with his Tish? Tristan laughed to himself and unfisted his hands. He had no designs on Leticia, and no urge to dig that deep into his pockets.