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“How do I look?” She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious.

Adam smiled. “Like a magical enchantress.”

The carriage drew to a stop a few moments later, and they exchanged excited glances.

“Are you ready?” Adam asked as the door opened before them.

Beatrice nodded. “Lead the way.”

Beatrice had not imagined the underground auction would actually be located under the ground. However, that’s exactly where it was. They walked across the empty ground floor of the building, escorted by a man wearing a golden livery so at odds with the dark and gloomy hall. Their heels clicked and echoed in the empty space, adding to the feeling of foreboding that crept up on Beatrice the moment they had stepped inside.

The feeling intensified as the liveried man opened a trap door revealing the stairs leading to the level below.

Her fingers tightened on Adam’s arm, and he covered her hand with his, patting it in a consoling manner. “Go on,” he encouraged.

Beatrice took a deep breath, collected her heavy skirts, and started descending the winding staircase.

The stony passageway only contributed to her ever-growing unease. Yet, she knew that Adam was right behind her, and as long as he was next to her, nothing else mattered.

When her slippers hit the ground, she walked down the corridor toward a door with light shining from under it, but before she could reach it, it opened with a flourish, revealing a scene straight out of a mysterious tale.

The dimly lit space was adorned with flickering lanterns and draped in rich, velvety fabrics that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. The air was filled with a faint, heady scent of aged leather and exotic spices, adding an enigmatic ambiance to the clandestine gathering.

The auction hall sprawled out before them, revealing a mesmerizing array of valuable and rare items displayed on ornate pedestals and velvet-covered tables. Ancient artifacts, glimmering gemstones, and exquisite works of art, their origins unknown and shrouded in secrecy, were carefully arranged to entice the discerning bidders.

Beatrice turned toward Adam, her eyes wide. This place kept surprising her at every turn.

He placed his hand protectively on the small of her back and leaned toward her. “We seem to fit in well.”

And they did, indeed. A number of the lavishly dressed guests were concealed beneath cloaks and masquerade masks. In the background, a haunting melody played softly, but as Beatrice turned her head this way and that, she was unable to catch sight of the orchestra, making her wonder if perhaps ghosts themselves were playing the music.

Of course, she was being fanciful. And she loved every moment of it.

Adam and Beatrice joined the fray, moving fluently from one displayed item to the next, mesmerized by the magnificence of some items and surprised by the mediocrity of others.

However, Beatrice did not possess the refined taste and knowledge that would probably help her appreciate those items more. And the price which they were going to be sold would most likely surpass the sum that Lansdowne had agreed to pay her father for her hand.

“The auction starts in fifteen minutes. Please, proceed to the main hall,” the auctioneer, dressed in all black, wearing a black half-mask, called from the raised platform then moved toward the door to their right.

Everyone started filing away, while a few stragglers were left admiring the items. And that’s when she saw it. The watch!

There it was, resting on a plush red pillow inside a wooden box with a glass lid, secured by a large, steel lock. She tugged on Adam’s arm, and he threw her a questioning glance.

Without giving him an answer, Beatrice led him toward the box that held his watch. By its side lay the note describing the qualities of the watch within.

Impeccable 16th-century craftsmanship. Diamond dusting. A fine-crafted rose for winding on the side suggests it belonged to the House of Tudor.

Adam scrunched up his nose. “Well, that last part is a straight-up lie. I wonder how many things sold here are actually authentic.”

Beatrice cautiously looked around, making certain they were not overheard. “I suspect not many.”

Adam suddenly turned away, his attention fully absorbed by a woman who had just entered the auction floor. And who could have blamed him?

That woman had a confident royal air. Her midnight-blue gown with golden lining at the edge of her skirt and her bodice accentuated her pronounced curves. Her raven-black hair lay in soft waves against her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Her head was held high, a smile playing about her lips. Beatrice’s fingers curled around Adam’s forearm, her grip tightening without her realizing it until he turned back to her.

“That’s the woman of your dreams,” he said with a smile.

“Pardon me?”