Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(47)

“Cheroot?” The voice sounded familiar, though it was hushed, as if the man was trying to disguise himself. Stefan couldn’t quite pinpoint it, and he wasn’t about to expose them by making a move to peek through the curtain.

“I did not travel all this way to share a smoke and brandy with you as you are well aware.”

“Ah, yes, well. It was polite of me to ask, don’t you think?” The man laughed nervously.

“Forgive me, but nothing about you seems polite.” The other man said sternly. And then it hit Stefan, the one man was Dominique; his voice held that calculated smoothness. As if he needed to talk slow and concise lest his accent make a sudden appearance.

“You owe me,” Dominique said plainly.

“It was a misunderstanding, my lord nothing more.” The man coughed, his voice scratchy.

Dominique let out a beastly laugh. “A misunderstanding you say? How was it to be a misunderstanding when I discovered you tried to rob my own fortune away from me? Or are you referring to the misunderstanding when you set about murdering my valet?”

The room was dead silent.

“Or,” Dominique chuckled. “Are you referring to the misunderstanding of blackmail, when you threatened to kill me once I exposed who fathered the youngest girl.”

“That is quite enough, my lord!” The man yelled as best he could with his voice still seemingly hoarse.

“Ah, a misunderstanding perhaps?” Dominique offered.

“Name your price.”

“Money, as you well know, is no object. Yet I am wise enough to see that you have none to offer me, so it seems we are at an impasse, are we not?”

The man cursed. “I haven’t any money, and you know it!”

“Ah, but what of value are you in possession of my good man? Therein lies the question. What are you willing to give that I do not already have?”

“Heartless beast! That’s what you are!”

Dominique chuckled. “I’ve been called worse. Now, what are you willing to sacrifice for my silence at your indiscretions or as you put them misunderstandings?”

The silence in the room was deafening. Stefan could feel Rosalind’s heart beating wildly in her chest.

Stefan wasn’t sure how this would end, but it couldn’t be good. Was not money the only currency in which men spoke?

“My daughter.” The broke his silence. “If I give you my daughter, the youngest. Will that suffice?”

“That falls to you. How much would you say your daughter means to you?” Dominique asked.

“She’s all I have, all I was allowed to have of her mother. When her mother married another….well, you can imagine...” The man’s voice trailed off.

“And if I accept. I will be the one making the terms of this contract, yes?”

“Yes.” The man’s voice was hoarse.

“Splendid. And considering it seems you are in desperate need of money. I shall strike a bargain with you.”

“I’m listening.” The man’s voice perked up, sudden interest evident.

“You are to never visit her. Ever. When I take your daughter, I will destroy her faith in men every day that I am with her. I will poison her against you. I will glory in your weakness as I expose to her the devil you really are. And if you die, she will not attend your funeral. I hope she laughs on that day that that tears are from joy that her once beloved father is dead. If you can promise me all these rights, I will allot you the sum of one hundred thousand pounds.”

“One hundred thousand pounds! That’s a devil’s fortune!”

“It seems your offer is too sweet for me to deny, think of it as payment. You have sold your daughter to me. A gentleman’s arrangement. Shall we shake on it?” Dominique asked his voice getting louder and sounding more irritated by the minute.

“Y-yes, my lord. When will you send for her?” the man asked.

Dominique let out a bark of laughter. “I assumed you understood. I will not be sending for her. I will be returning with her. Make the preparations. I shall send over the contract in the morning when my man picks her up.”

“But!” the man yelled.

“A deal is a deal…” Dominique clipped.

The door clicked open and shut again.

The man was still lingering, and all Stefan could hear was weeping and words that were so horrible to his ears he couldn’t bear it. “It will be worth it. It will all be worth it. My love, you will pay for your sins.”





Chapter Seventeen


Conscience doth make cowards of us all.—Hamlet



Rosalind felt Stefan’s arms stiffen around her at the man’s horrendous words. How could selling your own flesh and blood be worth anything but heartache? After the door clicked shut and they were sure both men had cleared the room, she slowly pushed away from Stefan.

“Did you recognize the voices?”

Stefan looked away. “Well, obviously one was Dominique, but the other…I wasn’t able to decipher. Although I’ll admit familiarity.”

Rosalind bit her lip. “I kept thinking they would discover us, but they seemed…”

Stefan outwardly shuddered. “They seemed too intent on buying and selling, did they not?”

“We have to do something.” Rosalind felt pity for the girl who was going to be sold into the man’s dirty clutches! The same man who admitted no shame in abusing the woman he was to marry. She wasn’t sure which was worse. The father knowingly selling his daughter for money or the man purchasing.