Nearby stood a crowd of men joking, laughing, chatting. In front of them, beneath the sloping, decrepit roof, a stage of sorts with a roped-off pen had been erected and topped with an auctioneer’s podium. From what he could gather, the crowd were gentlemen, and in their midst lingered Miss Germaine, the bane of his existence and the answer to his many dilemmas. She stood in a dirty warehouse in a gown worth hundreds, surrounded by only men and filth, looking as calm as if she were in her brother’s drawing room.
Instead of approaching and asking her the dozen or so questions that first sprang to mind, he held his ground, and his cover. If she for one moment thought him more than a coachman, he would never find his mother or sister.
After only a few more minutes, a nondescript man stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat loudly. The crowd moved closer, the hush instantaneous.
“We’re all here for the same reason, gentlemen.”
There were titters from those closest to Miss Germaine but the announcer ignored it and went on. “Please remember the rules; and once a girl has been won, she’ll be taken off to the back for collection. Cold hard coin is the only currency and no amount is too high for me.” He eyed each member of the crowd, waiting for nods of agreement. His gaze paused on Miss Germaine, his beady eyes opening a fraction wider, his wide nostrils flaring, but then he spoke again. “Right then, let’s bring ’em in.”
James couldn’t quite believe his eyes. In filed twelve girls by his count. All were various ages, sizes, skin colours. No two girls had similar features but all wore the same look of fear and loathing.
“The first virgin up for bidding is a delightful little package…”
James stopped listening. What the hell could Daniella Germaine want from an illegal auction such as this? She might have been the daughter of a pirate but she was also the sister of a man knighted by the king. She should have had no knowledge whatsoever of such a thing as a virgin auction. But then Miss Germaine was no ordinary ton daughter.
Ordinary or not, if word got out, if one loose tongue let it slip that she was there, in that den of filthy degenerates, what remained of her shaky reputation would be in tatters and she would be exiled from London society by granddames and daughters alike—something he could not afford to see happen just yet. She had to stay in place for just a few weeks more…
Very covertly and quietly, James began to move towards her. If he could get her out of there before too many noticed her presence, the rumours could be laughed off, a lie woven, an alibi found.
“The bidding starts at twenty pounds. Do I have twenty pounds for this spitfire? Surely she’ll be a pleasure to tame.”
James didn’t stop to wonder at the asking price. Who’d have thought stolen virgins could be had for such a paltry fee? If indeed they were virgins.
“Twenty-five pounds,” he heard called from the other side of the room.
“Twenty-six,” came a reply.
“You can have her,” cackled the first. “I hope she gives you lice, Wetherington.”
James shook his head again. He knew Walter Wetherington, and had thought him a fine upstanding fellow in the House of Lords. Clearly what James thought he knew and the truth were two entirely different matters. He ducked his head, put the pistol back in his pocket and pulled his cap farther over his eyes. If Wetherington were in the room there could be any number of others able to recognize him. While he might not risk undoing the hard work he’d had to do to recover his good name from the muck—clearly the gentlemen of the ton were happy to be seen here—but he didn’t want to unmask himself to Miss Germaine just yet.
“I should like to bid on her, Wetherington.”
Damn that fool girl!
“Miss Germaine,” the announcer called with a short bow, and gestured for her to continue.
“Forgive me, gentlemen, Wetherington,” she said, as she gave them each an easy smile.
James tried to reach out, to grab a hold of her skirt, her cloak, any scrap of fabric to pull her back and right out the door, but then she started towards the stage.
“May I?” she asked the announcer before climbing the rough timber to stand before the cowering girl.
The silence deafened as each and every man, James included, held his breath waiting for Miss Germaine to speak again.
She didn’t make them wait long. “I realize this is quite unorthodox and I do hope you’ll forgive my intrusion but I should like to buy them all.”
James choked until the man next to him slapped him hard on the back. His splutters were otherwise lost in an uproar—the gentlemen bidders were all either outraged or overcome by bewilderment.
The announcer was quickest to retain his wits and his eyes sparkled with greed as he checked first Miss Germaine up and down and then the girls waiting their turn. “Three hundred pounds,” he said in a way that told everyone he thought the lady would not be able to meet his terms. James, however, knew enough about Daniella Germaine to know she never bluffed.
“Done,” she agreed with another nod.
The announcer turned back to the crowd. “It seems, gentlemen, that the lady has just purchased herself the twelve fine virgins I had to offer today. That brings our business to a conclusion until next month.”
“On the contrary,” Miss Germaine countered, her light tone turning seductive. “There is still one virgin to be bid on.”
All she had to do was smile that beguiling smile of hers and the spell was spun. James groaned, removed his cap and raked a hand through his hair. He contemplated taking his gun out and shooting her. Nothing else would make her cease these dangerous games.
“Who?” the announcer asked, looking behind her at the dozen pairs of
