Viscount of Vanity Tammy Andresen (different ereaders .TXT) 📖

about the priest that his closest compatriot was a drunken gambler.

But she knew he’d agreed to help her father. Normally this sort of event would take place in the town square but the weather was still frigid and there was always the possibility of rain. Having the auction here ensured the event happened no matter the weather and her father got the largest bride price for his efforts.

She let the curtain fall again.

Gabriella could run, slip out the back and disappear into the English countryside. But where would she go? What would happen to her?

Still, it might be worth it. What if she ended up tied to a beastly man?

This morning she’d met a lovely woman who’d promised to help. A baroness. Gabriella’s heart raced at the idea.

The baroness had been with a man, not her husband, but her husband’s friend.

He’d been the single most handsome male Gabriella had ever seen. Tall and broad with dark hair and eyes. Of course, his full lips had been set in a frown as he’d stared at Gabriella, but still, he’d promised the baroness he’d come back for Gabriella.

Would he keep his word?

Likely not. It had been her experience that men rarely did.

And even if he did return, what could he do? It was her father’s right to sell her like cattle.

Her hands lifted to cover her face. This was it.

She had to make a decision now. She could stay or she could run.

Her muscles twitched as she shifted again. She needed to leave. Whatever fate met her, it would be her of her own choosing. She’d suffer the consequences of her actions and live or die content in that knowledge.

She took a step back, sinking deeper into the shadows of the chapel. Then another, inching toward the door. Gabriella needed to be as quiet as a church mouse. She’d require a head start in order to find a sufficient hiding spot. Her father and the priest had an automatic group of searchers assembled for the auction.

She’d heard him mumbling about men coming all the way from Havisham. She was apparently highly sought after. As though that was supposed to make her feel better.

Two more steps and she was close enough to reach out and touch the door. She pressed her hand to the knob as she gingerly began to turn the engraved brass. It wouldn’t do to have the metal squeak now.

But when she turned the knob clockwise, it didn’t budge. Her breath caught in her throat. Could it be stuck? Gabriella turned it the other way testing the door, but it was locked tight.

Drat.

Of course, they’d thought to lock the door. She could have kicked herself for hoping and then again for not realizing they’d have foreseen her attempt to run.

What did she do now?

She massaged her temples as her chin dropped to her chest. She was trapped.

Distantly, she heard the main doors of the nave open and then close shut behind whomever had entered. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she held them back. She would not cry any longer.

Now was not the time for emotion but for action.

Drawing in a deep breath, she attempted to think of another way out.

There was a second story window. Perhaps if she could climb…

The curtain parted and Father Michael stepped in, her father behind him.

“What do you think?” her father asked, shuffling on unsteady feet.

“Interesting,” Father Michael replied, parting the curtain and looking out again. “He’s nicely dressed, well groomed. Looks like he’s got money.”

“What’s he doin’ here bidding then?”

Gabriella let out a huff. Clearly some man was making special overtures that her father was considering. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat. Had they forgotten she was there? And why did her father sound surprised that a good prospect had stepped forward? Did he have no expectation she’d marry well? Did he care at all?

Father Michael’s gave her a critical stare, his eyes travelling up and down her. “Perhaps he heard of her beauty?”

Her father grunted. “Perhaps.”

“Or perhaps…” The priest stopped, looking back at her father with a meaningful tilt to his head, his eyebrows rising.

Perhaps what?

Her hand came to her throat as fear slid down her spine. What weren’t they saying?

* * *

Austin Melrose, the Viscount of Easterly, stood by the pulpit, his palms sweating slightly. How in the bloody blue blazes had he gotten himself into this mess?

He grimaced, crossing his arms. His friend’s new wife had somehow convinced him that he needed to go on this rescue mission.

This was why a man shouldn’t marry.

Women had all sorts of plans and they made a man participate. Abigail wasn’t even his wife, and somehow he’d been cast as the hero in this ridiculous plot she’d devised.

He let out a low growl of frustration. Abigail, that was his friend’s new wife, the Baroness of Blackwater, had heard Gabriella crying and had insisted they save her from a marriage auction.

Ridiculous. Who was he to tell a man what to do with his daughter? He had no authority to stop anything.

But then again, one look at Gabriella and he’d had a difficult time saying no. The very idea of some heathen pawing at her set his teeth on edge.

The problem, of course, besides the fact that he had no grounds to end this event, was what he did with her on the off chance he did successfully rescue her? He’d been wracking his brain for the past two hours, but he was no closer to a solution.

Marrying her was out of the question.

He refused to take her as his mistress and steal from her the chance of a happy marriage. That was even less likely than the first option.

She was too beautiful to work as a maid. Any man with a woman like her in his house would surely take advantage of her under his protection.

And the circle began again. He didn’t wish to leave Gabriella, but he couldn’t take her. He’d paced on the steps outside the