The Widow's Auction Read Free Page B

without.” A glint of mischief entered her eyes. “Besides, you could use the proceeds to fund your educational endowments for the boys.”
    A pox on Phoebe for knowing exactly how to tempt her. The idea took hold, much as Isobel tried to banish it. Wouldn’t it be grand to go into that meeting next week and throw that money in Lord Warbrooke’s face? With all of Henry’s estate tied up in his charities except for the modest living allowance given to her, she had no other way of raising the funds.
    Much as she hated to admit it, she was even more intrigued by the possibility of finding out the truth about lovemaking. Throughout her marriage, she’d wondered why Henry’s perfectly pleasant kisses always ended in such a miserable act. If Phoebe were right, and it had naught to do with her . . . 
    She sighed. “If only it didn’t sound so. . . so. . . ”
    â€œExciting? Thrilling?”
    â€œDangerous. If I’m found out, think what would happen!”
    â€œYou’d risk far more with any other method of tasting the fruits of the flesh.”
    Phoebe did have a point. To engage in a typical love affair would mean exposing herself to some man who might use the knowledge to ruin her if he liked. But Phoebe had done this before, and nothing had happened. Besides, she’d be masked.
    â€œI-I don’t know. . . ” she began, even as she felt herself weakening.
    â€œCome now, Bella, it will be fun, and we’d be doing it together. Don’t you think it’s high time you learn what you’ve been missing in the bedchamber?”
    When Phoebe put it that way, the bleakness of Isobel’s life stretched before her–a wasteland of duty and long, lonely days followed by even longer, lonelier nights. She wanted to marry, truly she did, if only for companionship. But first she needed to know if she was too flawed for the act of lovemaking.
    â€œAll right,” she heard herself saying. “If you’re sure no one will find out.”
    â€œIt’ll be our secret,” her friend responded.
    But the cat-in-the-cream smile Phoebe tendered made Isobel wonder if she wasn’t making an enormous mistake.

2
    That evening, Justin did something he wouldn’t have considered under any other circumstances. He agreed to join the odious Lord Bradford for dinner at the Mayfair Bachelors’ Club.
    Justin had never had a desire to join or even visit Bradford’s club. The organization was made up of young rascals, all of whom competed to see who could be the more debauched. But thanks to this morning’s disastrous meeting of the governing board, he needed the young earl’s vote. If Bradford voted with Lady Kingsley, others might be swayed to their side and that simply wouldn’t do.
    Lady Kingsley. He snorted. If not for that bloody woman voicing her unfounded opinions this morning, he’d be having a nice dinner at home instead of having to endure some undoubtedly inedible meal in Bradford’s company. He still smarted over her parting jabs about his motives for serving on charitable boards. The lady had to be the most annoyingly superior creature in Christendom.
    And it was a pity, too. Because beneath her lofty airs lay a pretty woman whose good taste, fine breeding, and intelligence would make her a very good wife for some man. That is, if any man could put up with her high-minded nonsense long enough to marry her.
    Bradford met him at the door as he arrived, then quickly led him into a cavernous room packed with gentlemen. A stench of sweat and tobacco and brandy hung in the air, exacerbated by the summer heat. Justin surveyed the mob with distaste. “Is it always this crowded on a Friday evening?”
    â€œOnly tonight. It’s the Widows’ Auction.”
    That’s when he noticed the dais erected at the front of the room for the occasion and the array of masked females lined up