Read Online The Bride Price by Anne Mallory - Free Book Online

worthless.”
    The older men laughed. Few of the younger did—thirds and bastards alike.
    “The winner has the chance to forge his own destiny—to carry on the family tradition in a new way and on his own. Winning should prove that man up to the task.”
    Silence.
    “The terms are all here, if you haven’t read the documents already.”
    Some of the men walked forward, Bateman among them. Sebastien watched his eyes shift back and forth over the words and was close enough to hear the conversation, hushed so as not to reach the older men on the edges of the room who had already started to place bets.
    “Two thousand pounds a victory. Is that all?” Bateman groused.
    “Forty thousand pounds to the ultimate winner and a producing property in Yorkshire, along with four other properties with moderate income. Enough to keep a man’s pockets full.”
    “For one card game, perhaps. Especially for you, Petrie.”
    Vicious snickers ensued.
    “What’s this? A bride? Already selected?”
    “What difference does it make? Any woman will do. Doesn’t much matter.”
    “Ambitious of you,” Timtree drawled, his voice carrying.
    “Chew my boot, Timtree.”
    “It’s a bit rough on the leather, man. I prefer shinier fare.”
    Someone whistled. “Look at this.” The sketch of Roseford was in his hands. “Beauty of a place.”
    Benedict’s face became a study in gleeful malice as he peered at the drawing. He smirked at Sebastien. “A bit small, but the property is adequate. I’ll enjoy tearing down the house when I win.”
    Murderous impulses rushed through him. Only if he was crippled and on his deathbed would he let Benedict win.
    Sebastien looked to the edges of the room as the participants began to squabble. He curled, then uncurled his fingers, unwilling to let Benedict draw him into a scuffle this early. There were more formidable enemies in the room.
    The older men watched with avaricious eyes. The duke’s stare was amused as he met Sebastien’s, then shifted eyes to Benedict, who had strode over to speak with Thomas Everly, another third son. The bitter, hollow place expanded. Revenge. It was the only thing that filled the void. If he won, two years from now things would be different. He would make things very different.
    “Deville, what the devil are you doing? Look over the terms, man,” one of the illegitimate sons said. The contestants had started shifting, legitimate thirds and fourthies to one side, bastards to the other. Factions already in place, even in a competition that was completely every man for himself.
    “I’ve already seen them,” he answered indifferently, absently watching Lord Cheevers leave the room.
    The terms were well laid out. Implacable for all parties concerned. The problem was that the terms never told the whole story.
     
    “Good, you’re here on time,” the earl said to Caroline as he strode into the study. He cast a critical glance at her clothing. “And at least you have on a clean dress today. The other night you looked as if you’d bathed in charcoal.”
    She wiped surreptitiously at her pristine skirt. Thank God the earl hadn’t peered too hard at the marks. Fingers gripping her thighs , hands touching her everywhere . The evidence of her failure to keep herself in line. Perhaps she was destined to repeat her mother’s mistakes. Her own mistakes now.
    “A mishap, as I told you.”
    “Borrow some of Sarah’s dresses. Should have had you fitted for better garments. Puttering around with the villagers has turned you into one.”
    She lifted her chin; the initial taunting words of the man from Roseford ran through her head. “I have a few appropriate dresses. I didn’t realize I was to be present for the events today until a footman delivered your orders.”
    “I told you to be prepared for everything. You refuse to listen. But you can stay in your cottage today after you report to Lady Tevon. She has some tasks for you. She’ll tell you when you need to be here.”