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

to the auctioneer. His emotionless raven gaze held hers, barely concealed desire emanating from his solid, square frame. With his silver-streaked thick, dark hair and strong features, he was not an unattractive man, but the hungry intensity with which he regarded her made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
    “
Général
Duret bids eight francs for a waltz with the lovely Madame Laurent!” The auctioneer’s words tumbled into each other, belying his nerves now that the powerful police ministry official had entered the fray. “A very generous offer, indeed.”
    Elle smothered all outward signs of discomposure and smiled coquettishly. “Oh, la. Surely I am worth more than a mere eight francs.”
    The crowd laughed, and a few called out that she was infinitely more valuable.
    “Do I have an offer for ten francs?” the auctioneer called without much vigor, clearly expecting the transaction to be at an end given the reputation of the gentleman who’d made the last bid.
    “Twenty francs.” The self-assured masculine baritone rang out from somewhere near the back of the room.
    Surprised anyone would challenge the powerful general, even in this insignificant way, Elle looked in the direction of the smooth rich voice—obviously that of an Englishman—but couldn’t see to whom it belonged. The man stood near Henri and Mr. Verney but was obscured by the crush of people around them.
    The permanent scowl on the general’s face deepened. “Twenty-five,” he said in a voice thick with displeasure.
    “Twenty-five francs from
Général
Duret,” said the auctioneer with obvious relief.
    “Forty.”
    Duret’s expression hardened. He clasped his hands together and manipulated them until his knuckles cracked, a habit she detested. A murmuring hush swept the crowd as more heads turned toward the back of the room for a glimpse of the man who dared to publicly challenge Napoléon’s malevolent lieutenant.
    “We have a bid for forty francs.” The auctioneer blotted perspiration from his forehead with a well-worn graying kerchief that had probably been white once. “Do I have an offer of forty-one, perhaps?” He gazed hopefully at Duret.
    The general stared at him for a moment, banked fury evident in his dark eyes. “Alas,
non,
” he finally said in a light tone. “Sadly, I shall not dance with the lovely lady in public this evening.” The crowd seemed to release its collective breath and the chattering resumed.
    Elle stepped aside to make room for the next lady on the auction block and proceeded through the horde, straining for a glimpse of the gentleman who’d paid so outrageously for the privilege of dancing with her. He stood with his back to her, mostly obscured by the crowd, but she caught a glimpse of dark copper hair. Her scalp tingled. There was something about the man…
    She reached Henri and Mr. Verney, and her buyer turned. Their gazes met, and her heart dropped like a boulder off a cliff.

Chapter 3
    She stared into pale hazel eyes that sent her tumbling back to long-ago summers in Dorset, to salty sea air and the weathered sandstone family home where her happiest memories were kept.
    “Hello, Elinor.” Will Naismith’s watchful gaze studied her from behind black-framed spectacles.
    “Will.” Shock—and a joy so unanticipated that it confounded her—robbed Elle of the ability to speak. Instead she soaked him in. His face had ripened in the years since she’d last seen him, but his unruly dark copper hair was the same, and he’d retained that off-kilter handsomeness that still provoked a jolt of yearning in her chest.
    “
Bienvenue,
Madame Laurent.” Henri stepped forward and brought her hand to his lips. “As always, you are
ravissante
this evening.” Only then did she remember to acknowledge the other gentlemen standing with Will, somehow managing to say the appropriate things when Henri introduced her to Mr. Verney.
    “I understand you are previously acquainted with our dear Monsieur