Page 5

“For those breasts, five and twenty pence!”

Having passed the booth, Sebastian could now see the crowd gathered around a cart in the middle of the square. On top of the cart stood a farmer and his wife. The closer he came, the better he saw that the farmer was as agitated as the crowd around him, his wide eyes quickly darting between the bidders, pointing at whoever offered the bid and repeating it. He had a manic grin on his face.

When Sebastian and his two friends stopped about ten feet away, he could see the woman. She stood next to her husband, a noose around her neck, hands clutched together on top of her poorly fitting, homespun dress, which was clearly sewn for a shorter woman. Her ankles were exposed, and the bust was too tight over her generous bosom.

And her face…proud and calm, as though she didn’t think anything of it. Her soft, pink lips were slightly curled in the hint of a smile, but there was no trace of humor in her big green eyes. She looked as pale as a cloud.

He liked her. He’d seen pretty women in his life—he’d bedded quite a few of them. Most London noble ladies, and even the expensive whores he’d visited in Elysium and other gentlemen’s clubs, were gentle and exquisite and feminine, charming and excellent socialites. She was pretty, too. Striking, actually, if he disregarded the dirty clothes of an unidentifiable color. With her big, innocent eyes, and her lips, full and sensual, and yet stubbornly and unyieldingly shut.

Sebastian stepped forward, unable to look away from her. Why would her husband sell her at an auction?

Grandhampton addressed a woman watching the sale. “Excuse me, how do these wife sales work exactly?”

The woman curtsied. “Begging your pardon, my lord. The man will sell his wife to the highest bidder. But she must say yes, or the sale will not continue.”

“What about the rope?” asked Sebastian.

The woman looked over the three of them, wide-eyed. Clearly, they did not belong among the crowd of farmers, blacksmiths, manual laborers, merchants, millers, and animal herders. “The rope is just something folk does,” she said. “She’s his property. Like that goat over there.”

Sebastian nodded and thanked the woman, looking at the wife being sold with more attention. Who would she go to? Would she agree? And if not, what would happen to her?

“Three farthings and three shillings!” came another loud offer. “For the pair of those tits!”

Sebastian frowned. He didn’t like anyone talking about her like that.

“You’re better off going to the Golden Sheep! The whores there won’t wrinkle their noses like she does!”

“Ah, who cares, she’ll just be an expensive whore. Pay once and keep fucking her over and over!”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes on the farmer. Someone had just insulted his wife. As a husband, he should defend her honor. Any moment now. Why was Sebastian’s blood boiling with anger and his fists clenching when that woman had nothing to do with him? Her husband only threw a crooked smile at her and looked around the crowd.

“Three shillings and three farthings!” the farmer announced loudly. “Anyone else? Who wants to buy this fine woman?”

“Perhaps if you turn her and show us her arse!” boomed another voice, and the crowd erupted in laughter.

The woman’s face grew as red as a beetroot. But her husband chuckled, satisfied and victorious.

That was it. Sebastian pushed through the crowd, shouldering the bystanders.

“Seb!” Preston called after him. “Where are you going?”

Sebastian ignored his best friend and kept going. When he stood in front of the cart, he saw how pretty the wife actually was, with her high cheekbones and dimples at the sides of her mouth. The sight of her big eyes glistening with unshed tears had his chest contracting with pity for her. No woman deserved this, farmer or not.

He turned around and raised both arms. “Silence!” he roared, and the crowd shut up.

Dozens of pairs of eyes watched him, with frowns, curiosity, confusion. He was clearly a lord. What did he want involving himself with the farmer’s wife?

Indeed. What the devil had come over him? He wasn’t typically one calling for attention. He avoided company unless it was the Seatons, whores, or sometimes Mama when she didn’t pester him.

And yet, the attention of all these people was on him. He looked over his shoulder at the woman, and his eyes locked with hers, wide and glistening. Something pinched at his heart.

He turned to the crowd. “There is no need to insult the woman. She did nothing to deserve any of your foul comments.”

“Why, Lord, do you want to buy her, then?” asked someone with a chuckle.

He opened his mouth to say no, of course he didn’t.

But the words simply would not come out.