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Everything around her was a blur of the reds, browns, and blues of clothing as the crowd dissolved, going on with their activities.

And even among all that, she couldn’t look away from his beautiful eyes. There ought to be some sort of a rule in the world against having men like him roam free…high-cheekboned and with a mane of thick hair the color of old gold. He was towering over her, broad-shouldered and more muscular than any gentleman had the right to be. His features were stark and chiseled, with a classic Roman nose, a square jaw, and a broad mouth with sensual lips. Long, thick eyebrows furrowed above his pretty, surprisingly long-lashed eyes the color of amber in the sun. Having them stare at her with that intensity felt like licking the first honey of the year. Fresh. Delicious. Decadent.

When he offered her his elbow, like a true gentleman, she stared at it without understanding at first. It must be the shock. This odd numbness in her limbs, like she wasn’t standing on the ground at all but floating in the air, melting under his gaze. That, along with the tingling all over her body. And the strange sensation that a hole had been cut right through her middle.

The shock was not just from the notion that someone would pay a fortune for her.

But that she had said yes.

She had believed all along that either Sir Jasper or she would stop it at any minute.

And yet, there was something about the idea of leaving Sir Jasper. And going with this handsome man with an intense stare that brought chills down her body made excitement spread through her in warm tingles.

The man, however, clearly didn’t share her enthusiasm nor her tingles. His frown should have told her everything.

“I’m the Duke of Loxchester,” he said.

He was a duke! She swallowed hard, licking her lips. A duke had bought her at an auction. A new wave of shock added to her previous one.

She’d just exchanged Sir Jasper for a duke! He was the first one she’d ever met. And she was dressed in this? She smelled like a pigsty and looked like a farmer’s wife.

So…why would a duke buy someone like her?

“What is your name?” he asked softly.

Through her dry, parched throat she said, “Emma.” Not Lady Bardsley, like she should have. Just Emma, like a swineherd’s wife, indeed.

His eyebrow cocked and he continued to offer her his elbow. Nearby, a man as tall and muscular as him, but with much darker hair, lingered with a terrible frown. “Well, Emma,” the duke said. “I left your husband my steward’s address to arrange payment. Would you please come with me? I believe you’re now mine.”

As she wrapped her hand through his bent elbow and they began walking, the words thundered in her head… You’re now mine…

Why that would make her knees weak the way Sir Jasper never could, she didn’t know.

Then the Duke of Loxchester stopped to introduce her to the Duke of Grandhampton, a large, tall man of incredible beauty, and his brother Lord Preston Seaton, who had followed them from the auction. It must have been her shock, because she barely remembered their reactions except for their wide eyes and their tense manners. They must be in shock, too.

The only one who appeared to be unaffected was her new husband.

The Duke of Loxchester.

And then, minutes, or perhaps years, later, she and the duke were alone in his carriage.

The carriage was so much bigger and richer than anything she’d ever seen. Real leather covered the seats, which were soft like velvet under the tips of her fingers.

The rumble of the road under the wheels and the hooves of four fresh horses powerfully tugging the carriage were muffled. The walls of the duke’s carriage were covered in dark velvet with the patterns of golden birds drinking from lilies and vines. There were two gas lamps secured above each of the seats. Despite it being late August, warmers under their feet gave a pleasant heat. It was such a stark contrast to Sir Jasper’s old carriage, which felt like it was about to fall apart. And unlike Sir Jasper’s carriage, this one smelled fresh and delicious…like vanilla and sandalwood—exotics reserved for the very wealthy—and something male that one could never buy. This was a world she’d never imagined she would enter.

The second carriage with the Duke of Grandhampton and his brother drove somewhere ahead of them.

The world shrank around her. The countryside passing by in the two windows was nothing but an illustration in a book. All that existed were the four carriage walls and the rattling floor under her, and this man, long and muscular and as present as a tiger in a cage.

His scent, the bulge of his thigh muscles under the buckskins that stretched over every ridge. Her whole being tingled with nerves, the meaning of her life unraveling into the unknown. And it wasn’t just him.

The pig farmer’s wife’s clothes, rough and coarse and too short and too tight, smelled like animals and like a different life.

As the carriage shook and bounced, he picked up a newspaper from the seat. Once there was a wall of paper between them, he said, “You will do fine.”

Could he have been any more dismissive of her? Yes, she was dressed poorly…so what? He’d bought her for some reason she didn’t know.

Arrogant aristocrats. Arrogant, good-looking aristocrats! Where were his manners? Even though he thought she was working class, he couldn’t just behave as though she was an object he was satisfied with purchasing.