Page 12 of Legacy of Succession

CHAPTER EIGHT

NICHOLAS

I watch the girls file into the room. Those to be sold are led to the stage while the ones I chose to keep, for now, are being ushered to seats and told to sit. I watch them. Elizabeth’s her usual confident self and flashes a seductive smile in my direction when she walks in. Amelia’s barely holding it together — she seems like she’s a zombie. Victoria’s quieter than usual. I think I’m getting used to her having a mouth on her and miss the backchat. She doesn’t curse the guard who pushes her down on the chair, and I notice she’s walking a little stiffly. She struggled a lot this morning. Her muscles must be hurting from the exertion. She needs to learn to go with what’s happening here. Nothing can change the future.

“Welcome back, gentlemen.” My father starts proceedings with his confident address. The room instantly silences, and we all focus our attention on him. “Let’s get straight down to business. We have two ladies here, Lady Joanna Nethercutt and Daphne Knight. I’m going to start with Miss Knight. Daphne step forward please.”

The small brunette does as she’s told — her eyes are red-rimmed with tears. What is it with all these women and tears? Why don’t they just accept what’s happening and get on with it? None of us have a choice in this farce. At least they’ll have a roof over their head at the end of it. There are plenty of people on the streets of England who have nothing. That’s what we all fear, after all, nothing — no life, no wealth, no love. I snort at the last one. Oakfield Hall has never had any love within its walls.

I look over at Victoria again. I can see her cheeks are flushed red — she’s getting angry. I find myself wanting her to scream and shout and interrupt the proceedings. I like her spirit. She must feel me watching her because she turns her attention in my direction. She rolls her eyes in derision. I smirk, and she focuses back on the sale.

“Daphne’s an accomplished musician. She plays a variety of instruments including the piano, violin, and harp. She's been privately educated to a high standard and particularly enjoys reading classics. She’d make a good governess and tutor for the next generation of our society.” My father pauses and Laird McGuire, a despicable man from the Scottish Borders, calls out.

“Enough with the tedious facts. What aboot the interesting ones. How big are her boobs? I’m assuming ye've checked she's a virgin. A dinnae want sloppy seconds from yer son.”

“Laird McGuire, I can assure you that she's been checked and is innocent. Her vital statistics are in the pack, which you were handed on arrival.” My father doesn’t like this man. In fact, he has a thing against most Scots. He believes them brutish and uncouth. I hear him often chastising my ancestors for allowing them into the society. Thankfully, Laird McGuire and Laird McDonald, who is also loud but less of an oaf, are the only two of Scottish origin.

“A bet she takes a good whipping. Her skin is pasty white. Will color red in a matter o’ moments. A think I'll be bidding on this one. Get ma cock up her ass within the hour and fuck her senseless.”

Daphne lets out a whimpering cry at his comment, and Joanna steps forward and holds her up.

“Laird McGuire. These are ladies, not whores. Please, have some decorum if, that is, you intend to place a bid on Miss Knight. If you simply want a body to engage in sadistic acts, then my butler will provide you with a number to contact.”

“We have a right to bid on these pieces of meat. Ye canae be telling me how to treat them.” Laird McGuire is on his feet and waving his fist at my father.

“No, I can’t tell you how to treat them, but I can outbid you and see that you don’t win.”

I chuckle under my breath. My father doesn't want this girl. He doesn't care what happens to her. If he did buy her, he’d be the one fucking her up the ass within the hour. He just wants to put this man, that he hates, in his place.

“Should we continue, Your Grace.”

I step up onto the stage and link my arm around Daphne’s. Her legs are weak, and she leans on me.

“Please, don’t sell me to him,” she whispers to me.

“You'll be sold to the highest bidder, no matter who it is. Those are the rules. Accept it,” I reply heartlessly.

My father comes to stand on the other side of her, and Laird McGuire sits down with a scowl on his face.

“Shall we start at one hundred thousand?” my father offers to the crowd.

Laird McGuire puts his hand up.

“Two hundred thousand.” Comes from Earl Winters, an older man with a penchant for young girls. He’s kind though, and she’ll be treated like a princess. He has a daddy complex. Don’t get me wrong — he’ll fuck her, but she’ll be looked after.

“Three,” Lord McGuire counters.

“Four,” Winters offers in reply.

“Five,” A new voice enters the fray. I don’t recognize it at first but purse my lips in a smile when I see that it's one of my old friends, Viscount West. This just got interesting.

Lord McGuire waves his hand in defeat, and my father smirks with triumph. West must be bidding on his behalf. Fuck, the poor girl’s screwed.

“Earl Winters?” my father asks.

“Five and a half.”

“Six.” West counters right back.

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