Free The Widow's Auction by Sabrina Jeffries Page A

easily. “That was the year a reformer came unannounced to inspect the mill.” She smiled, remembering that day. “He caught the overlooker dunking a child’s head in the cistern to wake her up. He acted on impulse: he punched the overlooker out and then bought the mill. And the first thing he did was ban children under the age of fourteen from working there.”
    Lost in the bittersweet memories, she balled her gloves up in her hands. “But by then my aunt had died, and I had nowhere to go. I’d been taking care of myself in her cottage, but without the work at the mill. . . ”
    She shrugged. “I threw myself on his tender mercies. I asked to be a servant in his house, a kitchen maid, anything.” A lump filled her throat. “I still don’t know what he saw in me, but he took pity on me and brought me back to his estate. He had me educated as a gentlewoman. He told me if I worked hard to improve myself, I could have a shop or even be a governess. I think it pleased him to watch my progress.”
    â€œYou lived alone with him?” he asked in an uneasy voice.
    â€œIt’s not how it sounds. His second wife had only recently died, but his sister lived with him. It was all very proper, believe me.”
    A long, awkward silence filled the room. He was the one who broke it. “So how did you come to marry him?”
    â€œAs I grew older, I began helping him with his work. I suppose we sort of. . . fell into marriage. I don’t think he would have bothered to marry again at all except that he hadn’t yet fathered an heir. He was a man of property, a gentleman, and he needed a son. And it occurred to him. . . ” She trailed off, loath to reveal these intimate secrets about Henry.
    â€œ What occurred to him, Bella?”
    It wasn’t as if Justin would know whom she spoke of, was it? Justin had barely known Henry, and few people talked of Henry’s previous wives. “Well, his first two wives had been the refined sort. He always said the aristocracy was overbred, and that it was killing them. He thought perhaps an infusion of the stronger blood of peasant stock, as he put it, might help him produce a son.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t mind providing him with the ‘peasant stock’?” he choked out.
    â€œHow could I? He’d done so much for me–the least I could do was marry him and try to give him an heir.” Her gaze dropped to the gloves she kept twisting in her hands. “But I failed in that respect. Doesn’t say much for the power of my stronger blood, does it?”
    â€œYou can’t blame yourself for that.” The thrum of his low voice washed over her like a caress. “These things happen. It might have been his fault, after all. Either way, no one is truly to blame except God, and He isn’t apologizing. So I don’t see why you should.”
    She faced him with a wan smile. “An interesting point and one I’d never considered.”
    He didn’t smile at her echo of his earlier statement. Indeed, the look on his face was so full of sympathy and concern that it brought tears to her eyes. How had she ever thought this man incapable of true feeling?
    Ruthlessly she blinked her tears back, grateful for the mask that helped to hide them. “In any case, I’m not the well-bred lady you thought I was. That’s all I was trying to illustrate. So your balking at making love to me is entirely unnecessary, you see.”
    â€œOh, no, you’re wrong,” he said fiercely. “If anything, your tale has made it even more necessary. I’m sorry, Bella, but I won’t make love to you. Not now, not ever.”

6
    Though Justin knew he’d made the right decision, it cost him a great deal to hold to it. Especially when she stood there looking so lost.
    But what she’d told him explained so much. It was no wonder she’d reacted violently to