Chapter 7: The Auction

The auction was held in the market hall at ten, and the whole county came to watch the Trevanions lose.

My father stood at the back with his hat in both hands.

He had not slept either.

I took his arm, and he patted my fingers and told me he was fine, and I knew he was lying because he was a terrible liar and always had been.

"The land is not lost yet, Father."

"Child, you've done enough. You've married a duke."

"I married a duke so we would not need to be rescued by one."

He looked at me, confused and fond, and said nothing.

The auctioneer rapped his hammer.

"Lot one. The Trevanion estate, three hundred acres, the house, the home farm and the water meadows. Who will open at four thousand?"

Edmund stood in the front row in a grey coat.

His father sat beside him with a handkerchief pressed to his upper lip.

After the dinner, the viscount's friends had come to him one by one in the night.

Two of them had written to my father's solicitor before breakfast to say their bonds would not be sold at all.

I had read both letters on the steps.

"Four thousand," said Edmund, without turning round.

"Five," I said.

Heads turned.

The duke, beside me, did not move a muscle.

"Six," said Edmund.

"Seven."

A murmur went round the hall.

The viscount hissed something into his son's ear, and Edmund shrugged him off.

"Eight," said Edmund.

"Nine."

"Ten thousand."

"Ten thousand," the auctioneer repeated. "I have ten thousand from Mr. Rook. Madam?"

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