A License to Wed: Rebellious Brides Read Online Free Page A

lady?”
    He swallowed against the lingering soreness in his chest. “We were acquainted once, but it was a long time ago.”
    They were interrupted by their hostess, Lady Whitworth, who had taken a position at the front of the room. “May I have your attention,” she called out. “The auction is to begin shortly.” Elle said something to the general, who smiled and watched after her as she and a number of other ladies in attendance began moving toward the front of the room.
    “Auction?” Will murmured to his companions.
    “For an opportunity to waltz with the lady of your choice,” Henri said. “The monies collected will be donated to the Women’s and Children’s Home in Paris.”
    Lucian inhaled a shocked breath. “Auctioning off ladies of good family to the highest bidder? You’d think we were at King’s Place off Pall Mall,” he said, referring to a bawd house frequented by gentlemen of the upper orders in London.
    Henri chuckled. “Must you English be so provincial? You are not purchasing the lady’s virtue, just the opportunity to take her for a turn on the dance floor.”
    “Still, it is hardly proper,” Lucian said stubbornly. “This sort of thing would cause a scandal at home.”
    “But you are in Paris,” the Frenchman said jovially. “Why not enjoy all the delights our fair city has to offer?”
    Will swallowed the last of his wine and placed the empty glass on a passing footman’s tray with a decided thud. “Why not indeed?”
    —
    Elle watched the bidding with detached interest, certain that Gerard Duret would outbid everyone, mostly through sheer intimidation, for the opportunity to take a turn with her. Few risked crossing a man reputed to be more ruthless than Robespierre.
    The lady ahead of her moved forward as the bidding began. Elle shifted into the place the woman had deserted, ready to take her turn next. Her gaze ran over the vibrant blue and red uniforms worn by Napoléon’s officers, interspersed with the gauzy Greek-inspired styles worn by the women. It was strange to be back in society after so many years. Yet she was as much a prisoner now as she’d ever been.
    Frustration churned inside her chest as she scanned the crowd in desperation. Still no sign of Moineau, the man who’d promised to help her. It had been more than a month since she’d last heard from him. Where could he be?
    Polite applause signaled the end of the latest round of bidding. The flushed-cheeked lady moved into the crowd to join the gentleman who had won a dance with her.
    “And now, I give you the exquisite Madame Laurent, a vision whose presence illuminates any room,” said the auctioneer, a trim, lugubrious-faced man of medium height.
    Elle stepped forward with a good-natured smile and executed an elegant curtsy. The crowd applauded and the bidding began.
    “Three francs!” called the portly Monsieur Henri D’Aubigne, a Parisian writer of middle age she found quite amusing. She saw he stood next to Lucian Verney, a newer arrival to the city who worked for Ambassador Lord Whitworth at the embassy. She made a mental note to introduce herself to the young gentleman soon. Mr. Verney might prove useful.
    Several others entered the bidding and drove up the price. In the few months since reopening the Paris house, she’d emerged as a popular hostess and sought-after guest. Elle had always had a way with people, and she intended to use it to her advantage, especially now, with so much at stake. The more people she encountered, the better the chance she’d meet someone of influence who might assist her in her search.
    “Eight francs,” called the auctioneer. “Do I have an offer for eight francs for Madame Laurent, the most enchanting of ladies?”
    Once the price for the pleasure of her company had grown too steep for many of the early bidders, Duret moved to the front center of the crowd so that he stood only a few feet away from Elle. He dipped his chin, signaling his acceptance of the price