He’d been calling her “Lady Jessamy” for so long and it made her heart flutter to hear him use the shortened form of her name. She wasn’t sure what had changed, but he’d been calling her “Jessie” since the last time Gabriel had been round for supper, almost two weeks ago.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me this evening? I could really use the company,” Jessie wheedled, thinking of the lonely condom in her clutch.

Liam laughed softly and stroked her cheek with a single calloused fingertip. “I don’t think the gentry are quite ready for that, dearie.”

Jessie laughed, twirling away from him. “Fine, then. But don’t say I didn’t ask. Are you about ready to go?”

Liam nodded then took her elbow, guiding her outside to the already running car. He made as if to open the back door, but Jessie had anticipated him and was not about to give an inch on this point.

“Liam, honestly. You don’t have to attend tonight’s party, but I’ll be damned if I’m riding in the back and treating you like a chauffeur.” She crossed her arms, trying her best to look commanding. “I’ll ride up front with you like a normal person, thank you very much.”

Liam shrugged, grinning at her and shutting the car door before opening the front passenger side for her. “You’ll never be normal, love.” With that, he kissed her hair and took her hand, gently pressing her into the seat. He walked around the car and seated himself, turning to smile once more at Jessie, and then they were off.

 

* * * *

 

Jessie’s eyes sparkled with excitement, the din in the room growing louder as the guests gossiped about the last lot, sold to a dowager duchess wearing a hideous green dress. The auction was even better than she’d expected it would be, and Jessie eagerly awaited the announcement that would herald the bidding on the next item. She’d watched, thunderstruck, as men and women bid outrageous amounts on totally gaudy, useless items, and her favorite moment had been when two men had become so agitated that they’d screamed their bids, their faces red and their eyes bulging. When one of them had finally conceded defeat to the other, the winner had been standing smugly by his newest purchase when the loser walked straight up, tore the man’s wig right off his head, and threw it into a bowl of punch. Chaos had ensued with ladies shrieking and men laughing, and the two men had finally been escorted out and packed off into their vehicles.

Jessie perked up when the auctioneer walked back to the platform erected for his use, holding the card with a description of the next item up for bid.

“Our next lot is an heirloom piece, an antique pianoforte once owned by the Lady Catherine Cumberland, late wife of the Marquess ...”

The roaring in Jessie’s ears prevented her from hearing the rest of what the auctioneer said. She looked on in horror as the pianoforte she’d played as a child was wheeled across the front of the room to stand before the auctioneer’s platform. Jessie could remember the exact moment she’d last seen the instrument, and it wasn’t a pleasant memory. She’d had to sell it in order to pay one of her brother’s money lenders, and she’d wept as a group of men had come to take the beautiful piece away. Jessie had felt as if her childhood was being packed off into their truck along with the pianoforte, and she’d always wondered what had become of it—the instrument and her childhood.

She could feel her face redden as the gasps around her registered, and the guests close to her seemed to take a collective step back so as to allow everyone a good view of whatever she’d do next. Jessie could hear whispers from every corner of the room, and an elderly woman patted her arm comfortingly.

With nothing to do but brazen it out, Jessie plastered a smile on her face and kept her eyes glued to the auctioneer, hoping that the bidding would be over quickly. It seemed that the pianoforte was a much-desired item, and Jessie could hear voices calling their bids as the auctioneer pointed to one person and then another.

“Two thousand pounds!”

“Five thousand!”

“Ten!”

Jessie couldn’t believe her ears, and she mentally cursed her brother. That money lender had made a pretty profit. The woman who had bid ten thousand pounds waited hopefully, holding her breath as she looked around the room for other bidders. The auctioneer paused, also looking around the room. He was just about to bang his gavel when a strong voice sounded from the doorway to the ballroom.

“Twenty thousand pounds.”

Gasps could be heard throughout the room, and the woman who’d bid last was staring at the source of the latest bid, her mouth hanging open. The auctioneer hesitated, looking at the woman to see if she’d counter. The woman shook her head slightly and the auctioneer pounded his gavel. The lot was sold, for twenty thousand pounds.

Jessie craned her neck to see who had made that last outrageous bid, frustrated that she wasn’t taller. She realized in the next instant, though, that she needn’t have bothered. A path opened through the crowd, and Jessie watched, dumbfounded, as Gabriel Hartley walked toward her.