Viscount of Vanity by Tammy Andresen (beautiful books to read .txt) 📗

church for the last quarter hour wondering if he should just return back to Blackwater’s house and tell Abigail he’d been too late.

But then images of Gabriella would rise in his thoughts and his feet would still.

Dark hair and eyes that lifted in an exotic tilt, they were near black in their coloring, her skin a bit darker than any true Englishwoman. Full sensuous lips and a figure made for sin, she was the stuff of fantasy. If he were smart, he’d stay away.

He couldn’t afford fantasies.

His gut churned.

Since he’d been a small child, he’d been affected with weak lungs. He raked a hand through his normally groomed hair. That wasn’t true. He hadn’t had an attack for some years, but the fear of one seemed to persist.

As a child, he’d learned when to pull back from an activity the moment his chest tightened. Because the attacks were awful.

His breath would leave him, and he could not get it back no matter how hard he tried. It was as though six men sat on his chest. He’d cough, and wheeze, and occasionally black out. And once he’d nearly died.

That wasn’t to say he retreated into a shell, hiding.

In fact, he’d work himself over and over just to the point of an attack and then he’d stop.

The goal was to make his lungs as strong as possible.

And it had worked. The doctors had told him he’d outgrown the malady and that he was cured. But some habits remained.

He exercised relentlessly and he maintained rigid control over his lungs and his mind to make certain he never had an attack again.

And one of those precautions was to stay away from beautiful women who might make him lose his control.

His friends were all known rakes who had their share of lovers. And Vanity played the part. But he rarely bedded anyone. In fact, it had been years. Ten, if one were keeping track.

The last time had been at the age of sixteen when he’d nearly asphyxiated. He’d been so lost in the pleasure, he hadn’t felt the attack coming until it was too late.

He stopped pacing at the front of the church.

He had to marry at some point. It was a necessity for the title. And, eventually, he’d have to create an heir.

But preferably not with a woman like Gabriella. She’d strip him of control, his one most essential characteristic.

The curtain behind which the priest and her father had disappeared, fluttered again. Austin straightened.

His proposal had been simple enough. He’d offered a small fortune to take the girl off their hands. Apparently, they’d needed a moment to discuss the proposition.

The priest and Mr. Winston stepped out again and Austin’s jaw tightened.

“Forgive me, Mr….” The priest’s eyebrows rose in question.

“Melrose.” They need not know that it was actually the Viscount of Easterly. He’d already seen the father salivating at the sum of money he’d offered. If he threw in a title, they’d insist upon marriage for certain.

“Mr. Melrose, you have to understand…” The priest gave him a sickly sweet smile. “As leader of my flock, and as the man sanctifying this transaction, we must insist upon an actual marriage. We can’t allow you to just leave with Mr. Winston’s beloved daughter.”

A muscle in his jaw ticced as he clenched a fist, cracking several knuckles. Beloved, his ass. One glance was all it took to know that Mr. Winston was a man who only loved himself. Austin could see that he might have been handsome once. The clothes were of fine quality, unlike his daughter’s. But they were old and worn. “Fine. I’ll add a nice sum to be given to the church.”

The two men looked at each other again. Austin could see they were considering. Weighing the possibilities.

“When is this gonna start?” a man called from the front row. “I rode six hours through the night to get here. I want to see the woman already.”

Male rumbles erupted from behind him.

Mr. Winston’s eyes lit with an unholy fire. “There’s plenty of other men here. All whom will give my daughter a legitimate life. Once the auctioning starts, you’ll have to outbid them.”

Austin gave the other man a hard stare. Didn’t Winston know that no man here could outbid him? But then again, the terms of the auction were clear. A marriage would result.

He looked over at the curtain again, and he saw Gabriella peeking out from behind the drapes, her dark eyes pleading with him. His gaze sliced back over the crowd. Rough, hard men stared back. Or was that his imagination?

He looked back, noting the slender taper of her fingers about the velvet fabric, the way her teeth caught her lip. He gave his head a shake.

He didn’t want a wife.

Certainly not one as tempting as her.

But as he looked into the dark pools of her eyes, he let out a slow breath. “Marriage it is.”

Chapter Two

Gabriella looked down at her worn frock’s frayed hem and dingy fabric. Then she glanced up at the man talking to her father.

She gasped in a breath. It was him. The baroness’s friend.

His hair was perfectly combed, not a strand out of place. His features were more symmetrical and pleasing than any she had ever seen.

His clothing was impeccable. Made of fine cloth, not a string was out of place.

And he was frowning again.

Likely at her worn dress or her messy hair.

He had that hard edge of a man who rarely smiled. His shoulders were set in severe, implacable lines or perhaps that was only an allusion because they were so broad compared to his tapered waist.

She looked down at herself again. She’d put even less effort into her appearance than normal. Who wanted to look good at an event like this?

In fact, she may have applied herself to having the least appeal possible.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, nibbling at her lip. Was he here to save her? How did he intend to remove her from the auction?

But she watched in horrid