Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas(3)

A sick feeling twisted inside Dominick. His father had indeed been selfish and arrogant. He had abandoned his family for good when his son was seven, leaving behind nothing but a bad reputation that had tainted Dominick's life. Deeds that in most young men would be considered high spirits were considered proof of wickedness in Dominick. It seemed bitterly unfair that after doing so little for him in life, his father now had the power to cost him the girl he loved.

Hoping an appeal to reason might work, he said, "Is it fair that your revenge will cost your daughter her happiness?"

"Bah, happiness!" Mansfield sneered. "For a woman, satisfaction lies in service. I need Roxanne here to run my household and see to my comfort. It will be a better life for her than having her heart broken by a rogue like you."

"You're wrong!" Dominick retorted. "Roxanne and I love each other! We were born to be together, and you can't keep us apart. If we must wait three years until she is of age, we will. Since that is the case, you might as well consent now, and spare yourself alienation from your only child."

"'Born to be together! That's romantic rubbish." The baronet's eyes narrowed. "Your mother is still alive, isn't she? Do you want her to know the full measure of your father's wickedness? She's frail, I understand. Such news might be injurious to her health."

Dominick paled. "You couldn't be so cruel! She has suffered enough because of him."

"To save my daughter I would do far worse." The baronet paused, breathing heavily, before continuing with lethal menace, "If you ever try to see Roxanne again, I swear by all that's holy that I'll tell your mother every loathsome detail of your father's crime."

Dominick felt trapped in a nightmare. It had taken years for his mother to find a measure of peace after her husband's abandonment, and she had never regained her laughter. If she discovered that her marriage had been the cause of another girl's suicide, the shock might kill her. And if that happened--Dominick would never forgive himself.

Voice shaking, he said, "Very well, you win." He stopped as pain lanced through him. To give Roxanne up, to never to see the wondrous warmth in her eyes, or to kiss her welcoming lips… Never to introduce her to the mysteries of passion… Unable to see any alternative, he whispered, "I swear that I… I won't try to see Roxanne again."

"I want your word on that." Mayfield scribbled a few words on a piece of foolscap, then pushed it and a pen across the desk. "Sign this pledge that you renounce her, and I promise that your mother will never learn what your father did."

The paper said I promise never to see Miss Roxanne Mayfield again. Blindly Dominick lifted the quill, dipped it into the inkstand, and scrawled his signature across the bottom. It would have made more sense to slash his hand and sign in blood.

He turned and left before he broke.



*

While Dominick spoke with her father, Roxanne withdrew to her room and paced. The time dragged endlessly. Maybourne Towers had been named for the towers that stood at each of the four comers. Her room was in the southwest tower. Though the circular shape was inconvenient, she had asked for this chamber when she was a child because it made her think of fairy tales and princesses.

Yet though she had always loved the room, now it seemed a prison. Her perambulations took her to the west window. She glanced out over the park, catching her breath when she saw a dark-haired man riding away.

Merciful heaven, her father must have refused Dominick, or her beloved would not be leaving without seeing her!

He reined his horse in and turned around to stare at the house. Though he was silhouetted against the light and she could not see his face, there was a kind of wildness in his movements.

Roxanne waved frantically, but Dominick gave no sign of seeing her. The afternoon sunlight was reflecting off her windowpanes. She fumbled with the catch so that she could open the casement and call to him, but before she could unfasten it, he wheeled his horse and galloped away off furiously.

Driven by the greatest fear she had ever known, she darted downstairs and went to her father's study. She took a deep breath, then went inside. "Papa?"

He looked up from his desk with a frown. "Yes?"

Clenching her courage, she said, "Did--did Mr. Chandler speak with you?"

"He did indeed. I'm deeply ashamed that you were so lost to decency as to engage in a clandestine relationship," her father said with icy fury. "Your precious suitor cost me half a year's income, but at least he's gone now, and good riddance."

The blood drained from her face. Refusing to believe the implication, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"He threatened to ruin you if I didn't give him money. He boasted of his power over you. That you believed everything he said. He wanted five thousand pounds to leave you alone, though he came down to a thousand quickly enough." Her father made a disgusted face. “It was worth that to get rid of him, but don't you dare believe the lies of another debt-ridden scoundrel. I can't afford a second affair like this."

She gasped, shocked to her core. "No, you're lying! Dominick didn't want money. He loves me!"

A contemptuous expression on his face, her father shoved a piece of paper across the table. "Oh? Read this."

She looked at the words scrawled on the page. For a consideration of one thousand guineas, I promise never to see Miss Roxanne Mayfield again. Dominick Charles Chandler.