Page 14 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
“Five hundred pounds.” That quiet, smoothly authoritative voice silenced the room.
All gazes from the three rows went back. Wakefield found himself looking with the rest of the patrons to the Duke of Rothesby.
Standing behind the ropes, the duke casually took a sip of his whiskey.
Wakefield frowned.
Bloody Rothesby.
Notorious rogue. Ungodly wealthy. In possession of one of the oldest dukedoms that went back to William the Conqueror.
With the nobleman’s wealth, power, and connections in Polite Society, he and Wakefield were not vastly different, but for one exception—Rothesby’s title and name had never been sullied like Wakefield’s.
And he despised him mightily for it.
Now, Rothesby would have the lady acting her soul out at the front of the room.
There came a flurry of murmurs as the bidding action quieted down, indicating the auction for Lady Aurum was nearing its conclusion.
Sully surveyed the room, clearly unprepared to bring this sale to a close. “His Grace has put forth a most generous bid, and why should he not? Now, ask yourselves. Will it be you or Rothesby who shows the maiden how to take a cock in her mouth and teaches her how to use it the way all men love.”
Wakefield’s fingers curled more forcefully around his snifter. Bloody hell. The damned thought of Rothesby or one of the other chaps in the room being the one to do all the wicked things Sully dangled forth made him want to wager a goddamned fortune to possess her.
The auctioneer barked the latest bid. “Do I hear five hundred twenty-five, gentlemen?”
It took all the restraint Wakefield prided himself on to keep from shooting his blasted hand up and making that bid.
As it turned out, Lord Templeton made it instead. “Five hundred twenty-five!” he shouted.
Yes, he wanted her—and badly. And no, it wasn’t purely the male urge to dominate the competition and win the entrancing woman for his own. Though hardly lovely by society’s standards, she possessed interesting features, too sharp to be classically beautiful but that made a man linger for a second look.
Another gentleman called out. “Six hundred pounds.”
The crowd rabidly fighting for the pleasure of the lady’s company that night indicated the room at large agreed.
Wakefield ignored the frantic battle taking place among men that were now his patrons. He should be relishing the fortune the enigmatic woman was raking in for him and his partners, but he remained utterly transfixed by Lady Aurum.
His pulse grew thick as the blood moving in his veins. Lust sent his nostrils into a full flare.
The delicate, diamond-encrusted mask adorning her face revealed, around pearl-trimmed eye slits, the hot, hungry gaze of a lusty woman who hungered for Wakefield with a like passion.
No, Wakefield hadn’t been imagining that the mysterious creature had eyes only for him. His cock strained painfully in his breeches, and he shifted to alleviate the heavy ache.
“You are certain you don’t want her, Wakefield?” Dynevor offered up like the devil he was.
On the contrary, Wakefield was beyond certain hedid.
“Two thousand pounds.” Rothesby’s voice emerged calmer and in greater control than all the increasingly desperate patrons.
The duke’s exorbitant sum shut all the bidders down and silenced the hall. There came a roll of regretful murmurs as the other gentlemen reluctantly ceded yet another win for the powerful duke.
The auctioneer, however, demonstrated a level of greed that marked The Devil’s Den as perhaps Wakefield’s greatest—ifwickedest—investment. “Do I perhaps hear two thousand and fifty pounds?”
“Three-thousand pounds.” That offer came as casually as if the gentleman proffered the time.
Wakefield along with the rest of the crowd looked to the bid-happy Duke of Rothesby.
Rothesby’s latest put up, this time against himself had ushered in an even greater furor from the crowd.
