Page 1 of His Scandalous Viscountess
Chapter 1
February, 1862
“Gather round, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we have a most unique entertainment.”
Madame de Pompadour’s voice quivered with excitement as Grayson Powell, Viscount Wolfington, walked into The Market. He was late, but the unusual announcement grabbed his attention.
Despite the frustration that pulsed beneath his skin—not uncommon after a confrontation with his father—curiosity had Wolf veering away from the stairs and edging into the back of the half-filled salon.
The attractive madame continued her pitch, exciting the men, and a few of the women. “In a rare occurrence for an establishment such as The Market, tonight we shall have…an auction!”
Murmurs ran through the crowd. Moving closer, Wolf couldn’t help but find himself intrigued. Auctions occurred all over London, but most of them were of a questionable nature, typically featuring a virgin prize. He found the practice disturbing for multiple reasons, primarily because if the woman being auctionedwasin fact a virgin, it was doubtful she was participating of her own free will.
Most of the time, the woman in question was not a virgin at all, which meant the buyer was being duped. Toss in the notion that buying and selling human beings smacked of slavery—a practice he could not condone, and England had outlawed in 1833—and all around it made the auctions an objectionable practice.
All of which made The Market holding one entirely outside the norm.
“The woman up for bid this evening isnota virgin.” Madame paused, drawing out the moment. “In fact, she is a woman of experience, who has been a wife to a peer of the realm and lover to a desert sheik. Tonight, she seeks an enthusiastic lover—or two—for a night of unrestrained passion.”
Wolf spotted his friends, Flint, Linc, and Arthur, milling about toward the back of the crowd. He stepped up and greeted them with a quiet nod.
“Interested in the auction, Wolf?” Linc grinned, a clear indication that he was most certainly intrigued by what Madame might have on offer.
“Not particularly. I have my doubts about these spectacles. Honestly, I would have thought The Market above such practices,” Wolf said and returned his focus to the front of the room as Madame raised her hands to quiet the murmuring crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lady Eatifi ‘Ahmar.”
Wolf’s heart suddenly leapt from his chest, only to lodge in his throat. A woman had appeared next to Madame de Pompadour, her hair a deep, fiery red that seemed to ignite in the gaslight. She might call herself Lady Eatifi ‘Ahmar now, but Wolf would know Julia Fairchild—or more aptly, Lady Wallthorpe—even if she were covered in robes from head to toe. And covered, she was not.
Next to him, Linc murmured, “Bloody hell, that woman is brazen. Wantonandbrazen.”
And she was. Julia stood before a room full of mostly men wearing a puffy-sleeved chemise that ended far short of where such a garment should. Just below her breasts, the material banded and stopped, leaving her torso uncovered and exposed to all and sundry. The rest of the garment reappeared at her waist, creating a full-skirted look that swished about her ankles, offering suggestive peeks at her lower legs. Around her hips, she had wrapped a brightly colored scarf and a coin-draped belt, which tinkled as she paraded around the makeshift stage in her bare feet.
When she stopped at one end, she turned and flicked her hips, causing the coins to jangle and the material to swirl about her legs. Wolf’s mouth felt as though he’d ridden across the dells, only to be rewarded with cotton in lieu of water.
Finally, Lady Eatifi ‘Ahmar returned to Madame’s side and finished her tempting display with a shimmy of her shoulders that seteverythingto jiggling in the most enticing manner.
And with that, the bidding commenced.
“One hundred pounds from Lord Glennmore,” Madame announced.
It took mere moments for the bidding to reach a thousand pounds. With each subsequent raise in price, Wolf’s fury swelled.
How could Julia do such a thing?What of the scandal this would mire her in?
Had she no care for her reputation?
He listened to the lascivious men call out ridiculous sums of money for the privilege of slipping between her long legs, all the while watching for the point when the bidding slowed.
Wolf leaned over to Linc and nudged his friend. “How much blunt do you have on you?”
“Not interested?” Linc jabbed an elbow in his ribs. “I’ve got seven thousand pounds. Hit a run of luck at the tables tonight.”
“Can I borrow it? I’ll write you a draft on my bank.”
Linc grunted and handed him the wad of cash. “I don’t want the money. Share her with me.”
Wolf’s gut churned.Could he do such a thing?There was a time when he had been deeply in love with Julia. But he’d long ago closed off that part of himself, and willed it to wither and die. His intervention tonight was nothing more than common decency, a way to ensure she didn’t suffer at the hands of some pompous, overblown lord who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
