Page 5 of Winning the Wallflower's Heart
“Five hundred pounds,” he shouted, lifting his hand.
His eyes raked over her body shivering in the thin cotton chemise, nearly see-through, for every man to set eyes upon. He swallowed, resisting the urge to run through the crowd and drape his jacket over her shoulders.
Her lips parted, ever so slightly, as though his bid pained her. So, she recognized him as well?
“Very well,” the announcer said. “Five hundred pounds. We can do better. Look at her shaking for you. Imagine her under?—”
Ellis tore through the room. “Not so crass now, Mr. Pennington. Don’t want to shock the men’s delicate ears.”
Chuckles broke out around him even as his heartbeat thrummed in his ears. He surveyed the room, then stole another glance at his best friend’s little sister, terrified on the stage, only a few feet away.
She swallowed and stuck out her chin, balling her fists at her thighs. And damn him if he didn’t notice the way her nipples were hard there beneath the thin fabric. It struck him like a jolt—this was no longer the fifteen-year-old girl he remembered.
“Five hundred and one,” Lord Prout burst in next.
“Five hundred and two,” the older gentleman beside him added. The room erupted in laughter again.
“Come on, Linfield. Look at her! All bones, can almost see through her.”
“Easy to break,” someone muttered behind him. “I prefer them that way. Five hundred and three.”
“A pound more?” The older gentleman joked. “You can have her. Careful, you might crush her when you take her to bed.”
“Two thousand pounds,” Ellis said, unable to break his stare with her. She refused to look at him or any other man, for that matter. Instead, she focused on the back wall.
“Rich for you, Linny.”
The auctioneer struck his gavel. “Lady Georgiana Harland sold to Lord Linfield.”
Georgiana looked down for a moment, meeting his stare, then tore it away, her nostrils flaring before she left the stage.
“You could have had your pick, Linny. You need glasses? Looks like she’s a month from her deathbed.”
He shrugged, playing it off, remaining calm. That was what had brought him success in the long run, wasn’t it? But at the mention of a deathbed, he snapped.
“Carry on, gentleman. Keep it civil.” He pointed to the auctioneer. “And mind yourdamnmouth when you’re talking about the girls on stage. They’re braver than all the men in this room combined.”
The older gentleman nodded solemnly, and a strange hush fell over the crowd before another woman was led out onto the stage.
Ellis slipped out to race down the stairs where Madame Marie was handling the girls. He rushed in, unsure of what to say or what to do, only that he felt he needed to explain himself to her, unable to sit with the disdain for him in her eyes.
The same eyes that had glanced up at him years ago as he carried her into Pickins House.
“Linny,” Madame Marie said with a grimace. She stepped in front of the curtain. “I can’t allow you in.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Handsome as well as stubborn.” She crossed her arms, popping her hip to the side. The madame of the invite-only brothel only a few doors down smelled of expensive perfume.
“I need to talk to one of the girls.”
“At least you see them for what they are. I fear half of them aren’t over seventeen.”
“Then why are they being allowed on stage?”
“If someone’s willing to pay… Look, I am in the business of pleasure.”
“And I’m?—”
