Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

He’d been the single most handsome male Gabriella had ever seen… Tall and broad with dark hair and eyes. Of course, his full lips had been set in a frown as he’d stared at Gabriella but still, he’d promised the baroness, he’d come back for Gabriella.

Would he keep his word?

Likely not. It had been her experience that men rarely did.

And even if he did return, what could he do? It was her father’s right to sell her like cattle.

Her hands lifted to cover her face. This was it.

She had to make a decision now. She could stay or she could run.

Her muscles twitched as she shifted again. She needed to leave. Whatever fate met her, it would be of her own choosing. She’d suffer the consequences of her actions and live or die content in that knowledge.

She took a step back, sinking deeper into the shadows of the chapel. Then another, inching toward the door. Gabriella needed to be quiet as a church mouse. She’d require a head start in order to find a sufficient hiding spot. Her father and the priest had an automatic group of searchers assembled for the auction.

She’d heard him mumbling about men coming all the way from Havisham. She was apparently highly sought after. As though that was supposed to make her feel better.

Two more steps and she was close enough to reach out and touch the door. She pressed her hand to the knob as she gingerly began to turn the engraved brass. It wouldn’t do to have the metal squeak now.

But when she turned the knob clockwise, it didn’t budge. Her breath caught in her throat. Could it be stuck? Gabriella turned it the other way testing the door but it was locked tight.

Drat.

Of course, they’d thought to lock the door. She could have kicked herself for hoping and then again for not realizing they’d have foreseen her attempt to run.

What did she do now?

She massaged her temples as her chin dropped to her chest. She was trapped.

Distantly, she heard the main doors of the nave open and then close shut behind whoever had entered. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she held them back. She would not cry any longer.

Now was not the time for emotion but for action.

Drawing in a deep breath, she attempted to think of another way out.

There was a second story window. Perhaps if she could climb…

The curtain parted and Father Michael stepped in, her father behind him.

“What do you think?” her father asked shuffling on unsteady feet.

“Interesting,” Father Michael replied, parting the curtain and looking out again. “He’s nicely dressed, well groomed. Looks like he’s got money.”

“What’s he doin’ here bidding then?”

Gabriella let out a huff. Clearly some man was making special overtures that her father was considering. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat. Had they forgotten she was there? And why did her father sound surprised that a good prospect had stepped forward? Did he have no expectation she’d marry well? Did he care at all?

Father Michael’s gave her a critical stare, his eyes travelling up and down her. “Perhaps he heard of her beauty?”

Her father grunted. “Perhaps.”

“Or perhaps…” The priest stopped, looking back at her father with a meaningly tilt to his head, his eyebrows rising.

Perhaps what?

Her hand came to her throat as fear slid down her spine. What weren’t they saying?

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