I was going to be a prize cow, I thought bitterly, trying to smile as the Lord Protector led me forward and introduced me to the greater lords, the major notables, of the Protectorate of Carmichael. I curtseyed and curtseyed and smiled and smiled. My earrings bobbled as I bowed and my pony tail caressed my neck. I flushed as so may men stared at my bodice, so tight, and so revealing of two of my most distinct charms. I hated Lord Wharton, who almost drooled over my hand.
An older man, a contemporary of the Lord Protector, it seemed, because he was the only one to call him 'Sennett,' promised to bid for me, which made me shake in my petticoats.
'Sennett'Protested laughingly. "You old fool," he said heartily. "A girl as ripe as this one," he put his arm familiarly on my arm as I shook inside, "would be the death of you in a week, in a day, no, in a night, I'll wager."