Page 19 of Unbound Duchess

“Seven-hundred!” a man called from the back where she could not see.

The bidding started to slow, and Ellen’s panic once more began to rise. Forgetting Deborah’s advice completely, she cast a pleading look into the crowd.

Stop this. Someone, please stop this!

“Seven-hundred, going once!”

Please, God!

“Going twice!”

Then a man close to the center stage raised his gray mask. Familiar features looked back at her, and she recognized the Duke of Blackford. Unlike the others, he did not seem filled with frenzied desperation. In fact, he looked as disgusted as she felt. His green eyes were sharp and full of anger as he stared up at her, as if he were trying to relay some quiet message to her. Then she remembered his words.

I can help you. Did he hurt you?

Hoping she was not too late to accept his offer, she silently mouthed please in his direction.

At once the duke snapped his mask back over his face with one hand as he raised the other high in the air.

“Two-thousand pounds!” he bellowed, far louder than any of the other bidders thus far.

Hope sparked in her chest as she cast a glance at Benedict. His smirk was gone, and his gaze kept shooting back to the Duke of Blackford. The room went quiet for a moment. Even the auctioneer waited a beat.

“Four thousand!” Benedict called out, staring not at Ellen, but at the man winning her bid.

“Eighteen thousand!” the duke roared.

Even in the crowded darkness Benedict stood in, Ellen saw him pale.

“Twenty thousand!” another bid came in from the back again.

Ellen looked back at the duke, her eyes imploring him to not give up.

“Fifty thousand to be done with it!” the duke’s deep voice boomed through the auction.

“Wait!” Benedict shouted, but his cry fell on deaf ears as the auctioneer slammed his gavel and declared the winner of the auction.

Ellen expelled a deep, long-held breath as she saw the Duke of Blackford already heading to the side of the stage to claim her. On trembling legs, she forced herself to move off the side of the stage to meet him. She raised her arm to take his extended hand, but just as their fingertips touched, Benedict appeared.

“No!” she breathed, feeling his iron-clad grip wrap around her hand and shove her behind him.

No, no, no! I did not beg for you!

“You are not taking her,” Benedict stated, squaring up against the Duke of Blackford.

“Let her go.” The duke’s voice was deep and full of warning as he said those three small words.

“Problem?” Nigel asked, appearing from around the stage.

“Yes,” Benedict quickly replied. Ellen did not miss the panic in his tone, and despite herself, she felt a sliver of wicked glee cutting through her worry. “I am this one’s guardian, and I have changed my mind. I do not want her sold.”

Ellen glanced anxiously around Benedict’s side to the duke. He seemed strangely calm and poised. Nigel, however, was red-faced and enraged at Benedict’s announcement.

“The sale has already been completed,” Nigel snarled. “You know the rules better than anyone here. You should have spoken up before she went on stage! Or, better yet, not have put her on the stage at all!”

“It has not been completed,” Benedict countered, his tone growing more panicked as the duke chortled behind his mask. “Has he handed over the money yet? Does he even have that much?”

“If you would look to your accountant’s table, Mr. Nigel, you will see my associate taking care of that as we speak,” the duke calmly replied.