Midnight Masquerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  "I believe you," Royce answered without hesitation. "And I'm sorry that Melissa's actions have created this situation." He frowned. "I wonder what in the hell she was doing in your room."

  Cynically Dominic drawled, "Oh, come now! We are both men of the world. You know damn well what she was up to—neatly springing a trap for an unwary fool—me."

  Royce stared at his glass of ale. It could be. He and Melissa had been close when they were younger, but there had been little contact between them for the past several years. What did he really know of her? Her situation certainly did lend itself to desperate schemes. Perhaps Dominic was right; perhaps she had seen a chance to snare a rich husband and had seized it. It wouldn't be the first time that a marriage had been engineered by a calculating female. He didn't want to believe that of her, but in the face of no other evidence to the contrary, he couldn't see any other logical explanation for her having put herself in such a damning position.

  Sighing, he remarked, "Well, at least you'll get something out of it. As her husband, you'll have Folly to control and you won't have to bother with the nonsense of being a partner in connection with the stallion." A gleam in his eyes, he added slyly, "And from what I saw when I entered the room tonight, you are not exactly immune to my cousin's considerable charms. You might even find that you'll enjoy being married to her."

  Dominic scowled. "Not bloody likely! As for the horse, I've already agreed to buy half the animal, and whatever else I do, I will keep my word on that. She'll get her damn money and I will honor the bargain that we struck this afternoon." He grinned. "I'm not saying that I won't occasionally, er, overrule my 'partner,' but I'll not come the heavy-fisted husband with her."

  "Just as well," Royce replied, grinning also. "Melissa would more than likely comb your hair with a stool if you applied too much of a curb to her activities. She is not going to be a meek, biddable bride."

  "No, she isn't," Dominic murmured. "And I am sure that I will rue the day I ever laid eyes on her, but I think I shall also enjoy taming her to my hand."

  A companionable silence fell, and for several moments the two young men sat there, drinking their ale, each one busy with his own thoughts. Suddenly, something occurred to Dominic and he chuckled aloud. At the sound Royce looked up at him.

  "I was just thinking," Dominic began, "that there is going to be one person who will be over the moon about the results of tonight's doings—my brother's wife, Leonie. She had been scheming to get me married for years, and when she learns that I am at last going to be leg-shackled, she will be beside herself with elation. She will," he added with a wry grin, "be quite certain that she willed it to happen." Seeing the expression of curiosity on Royce's face, he explained, "Before I left Chateau Saint-André to come to Baton Rouge, she laid a curse on me—that I would find a female who would lead me a merry dance."

  "And you think Melissa will do just that?"

  "Precisely that!" Dominic replied with feeling. "Marriage is not something that I ever contemplated, but if I had been hanging out for a wife, I would have wanted a congenial and submissive one—not the vixen I am to be saddled with!"

  "While you have my sympathies," Royce said dryly, "I think you are not as opposed to this marriage as you would have one believe. In fact, I have the greatest suspicion that you are actually viewing the prospect with some pleasure."

  Dominic smiled. "Perhaps." Then he added, "After all, marrying her will gain me Folly."

  Royce snorted and the two began to talk of more practical things, such as when the wedding would take place and where. Between them they decided that the middle of August would be the earliest date and that Melissa would probably want to be married from her home—if it could be refurbished in time for the event.

  "If not," Royce said, "I'm sure that Oak Hollow could be substituted. Nothing would give my mother more pleasure."

  Once the initial plans had been made, Dominic became bored with the subject, and glancing at his gold pocket watch, he murmured, "Shouldn't we rejoin my bride-to-be and your father? I think that we have been gone long enough for Josh to have convinced her of the wisdom of marrying me. Not," he finished darkly, "that I believe she needed much persuading."

  Royce nodded and the two men rose and began to walk across the room. The area was dimly lit and Dominic looked idly around. It was only when they had reached the door that he saw someone he knew. Freezing, he stared hard through the smoke-filled gloom, recognizing instantly the elegantly attired gentleman sitting in the corner by himself—Julius Latimer. Dominic made an instinctive movement in that direction, but Royce, having just then spotted Latimer himself, grasped his arm.

  "Stop, you fool!" Royce hissed in Dominic's ear. "I know you would like nothing better than to throttle the bastard, but at the moment you have no grounds to charge over there and challenge him to a duel."

  Knowing that Royce spoke the truth, unpalatable though it was, with an effort Dominic stilled the rage that had erupted within him at the sight of his enemy sitting there so calmly. Latimer had not seen them, and from the expression on his face it was obvious that the man had other things on his mind than an old enmity. A scowl darkened his blond handsomeness, and briefly Dominic wondered who or what had caused Latimer such fury. There was an air of savage anger which fairly radiated from him, and from the manner in which Latimer slammed his tankard of ale on the scrubbed pine table, it was apparent to even the meanest intelligence that something had displeased him greatly. After one more glance, Dominic allowed Royce to hustle him from the room. Latimer would wait—there were more pressing matters to attend to tonight. He had a prospective bride waiting upstairs in his room, and with a quickening step he left his old enemy behind.

  On the surface, Dominic might have seemed to have tamely accepted his fate, especially considering his oft-expressed contempt for the married state, and although there was a part of him that didn't find the idea of being married to Melissa Seymour too arduous, he deeply resented the means she had used to trap him. Admittedly, there were aspects of the coming marriage that intrigued him, but he was not overjoyed at the prospect, nor did he expect his wedded life to be anything but a damn nuisance once his inexplicable passion for his bride faded—and he was convinced that it was only a passing caprice on his part. He didn't like Melissa; she did not, he was confident, like him; he had never planned to marry, and if he had ever seriously contemplated marriage, it wouldn't have been to someone like her! Dominic might smile and jest about this evening's debacle and its ruinous effect, but inwardly he was furious.

  He could not deny, however, that there was something about Miss Seymour that had caught his attention from the very first, and it was equally undeniable that when he kissed her, when he touched her, when she came into his arms, something utterly incomprehensible happened to him. He was suddenly possessed by a yearning, primitive desire—everything faded from his mind but the sweetness of her lips and the lure of her slender body. That type of uncontrollable passion was something new to him, and it both excited and galled him. It was with a mixture of anticipation and anger that he entered his room. Standing just inside the doorway, he stared across the room at the conniving creature who had brought about his downfall.

  Melissa was seated on the only chair, her hands stiffly folded in her lap, her worn cloak covering the charms that Dominic remembered far too well for someone who assured himself that all he felt was rage and disgust for her actions this evening. She met his stare , the topaz eyes icy, the soft coral lips held tautly and the set of her narrow shoulders making it clear that she was not pleased with the situation. Still pretending not to want to marry him, was she? Dominic thought cynically.

  Josh beamed at him and said happily, "Ah, there you are! You'll be pleased, I'm sure, to learn that Melissa has seen reason and is agreeable to the match."

  Dominic wasn't surprised at her capitulation. Why else, he wondered sourly as his gaze traveled over her set features, had she come to his room tonight, if not to snare a wealthy hu
sband? Yet even as those thoughts crossed his mind, he was conscious of a feeling of disappointment. It would appear that his suspicions about her were correct, and he admitted for the first time that he had been hoping that she would prove not to be such a calculating female. Testily he said, "Well, I'm delighted that's settled. Now if we can come to some understanding about the actual wedding and such, we can put this less-than-pleasurable evening behind us." Not looking again at Melissa, he added, "Royce and I have been discussing the matter and, under the circumstances, we feel that the middle of August would be a likely date for the wedding."

  Melissa had been vibrantly aware of him the instant he had opened the door, and she had been mortified at the leap her heart had given when their eyes had met. She should dislike him; after all, wasn't he the cause of one of the most humiliating moments of her life? He was, she thought waspishly, arrogant and far too sure of himself. He was also the most fascinating man she had ever encountered.

  She was beset by a volatile concoction of attraction, rage, resentment and tingling excitement just being in the same room with him. She tried to deny feeling anything but wrath and bitterness toward him, and Dominic made it simple for her when he made his presumptuous statement about the date of the wedding. Outraged that he and Royce had arbitrarily decided upon her wedding date without even so much as a by-your-leave, Melissa flashed him a look filled with golden fire and snapped, "I believe that the bride should at least be consulted about the date of her wedding!"

  Reading the signs of the impending explosion, Josh said, "There, there, my dear. I'm sure that your, er, bridegroom meant no discourtesy."

  Watching the various expressions that chased themselves across Melissa's revealing face, Dominic suggested mockingly, "Perhaps my bride has a better time in mind? I should warn you, however, that the sooner we are married the less likely there is to be any scandal from this evening's affair. None of us intends to speak of it, but even the best-kept secret has a way of revealing itself when least expected. The middle of August is far enough away not to cause speculation about our, ah, sudden desire to marry, yet far enough away to allow us time to notify all our friends and relatives."

  There was much sense in what Dominic said, but the middle of August was too terrifyingly near for Melissa to accept with equanimity. Though she argued vehemently against the middle of August, it was to no avail, Josh ending the discussion by saying exasperatedly, "Melissa, this is no ordinary marriage! We are trying to avert a possible scandal here, and you will marry on the sixteenth of August."

  Impaled by three pairs of male eyes, Melissa bowed her tawny head, the frightening sensation of having no control over her own life sweeping through her. Blinking back angry tears, she got out in a muffled voice, "Very well. The sixteenth of August."

  There was such obvious unhappiness and despair in her tone that Dominic found himself strangely moved. Instinctively, he walked across the room to stand beside her and reached for one of her cold hands, holding it in his warm fingers. She glanced up at him in surprise, and when those incredible topaz eyes met his, he felt his pulse accelerate. Huskily he murmured, "The circumstances of our marriage may not be the most fortuitous, but if we both try, perhaps something good will come of it." Slanting her a crooked grin, he added, "I will attempt to be a reasonable husband, and if you will meet me halfway, I believe that we can rub along tolerably well together."

  It wasn't the most romantic statement, but it gave Melissa a feeling of hope, a feeling that they might just contrive to find, if not the bliss her heart yearned for, that at least they could live together peaceably. A tremulous smile flitted across her generous mouth and she said softly, "I shall try... but I do not think that it will be easy for either one of us."

  Dominic cocked a black eyebrow. "But then," he drawled, "nothing that is worth anything ever comes without effort. Sometimes it requires a great deal of effort."

  Melissa nodded, and Josh decided that it would be wise to bring an end to the evening while they were still talking to each other.

  "See there, my dear," he said heartily, "I told you everything would work out for the best. Now come along, we must get you home as soon as possible."

  * * *

  Numbly Melissa accepted Zachary's elated congratulations the next day when the Manchester family arrived with Dominic, and Josh made the announcement. She knew she smiled and nodded her head at the appropriate moments, and she knew she appeared to listen alertly as plans were made and discussed, but none of it seemed real; it all might have been happening to someone else. Even that evening when a servant from the inn delivered a note to her from Latimer, she could only stare at it, unable to comprehend his angry threats. It didn't matter anymore—nothing mattered anymore; in a matter of weeks she would be married to a man she barely knew, and Latimer's threats paled to insignificance in the face of that fact. Almost without being aware that she did it, she wrote him a reply, telling him of her engagement and that he would get his money soon enough.

  In the weeks that followed, she was thankful for her inability to feel anything but indifference to everything that was happening around her. Cushioned by this sense of unreality, she listened with detachment to Zachary explaining excitedly how Dominic was forwarding him a large sum of money so that some repairs and refurbishing of the house could be completed before the wedding.

  His eyes sparkling, Zachary stated, "I'll tell you this, Lissa—I'm damned glad you're marrying him—he's a great gun! He said that since the trust will be ending in just a few months now, he saw no reason he couldn't advance me enough money to start getting things in order. I'm especially happy that on your wedding day, with all our friends and family gathered here, you won't be ashamed of your home."

  Deep within she was conscious of a prick of resentment—she had never been ashamed of her home. How dare this, this intruder put such thoughts in Zachary's head. But the feeling passed in an instant, and she smiled vaguely at Zachary and wandered down to the stables. The stables these days seemed to be the only place where she could gain any sense of reality, and with the army of workmen whom Dominic had helped Zachary hire swarming all over the main house, it wasn't surprising that she escaped to the serenity of the place she loved best.

  Nothing seemed to touch her greatly. She could listen unmoved to Aunt Sally's and Frances' happy chatter about the coming nuptials; she could be easily persuaded that a wedding gown of sheer Indian muslin embroidered with silver thread would be most attractive; she could view without flinching the growing horde of gifts and missives of well-wishers that began arriving at Willowglen once the invitations of her coming marriage had been sent. She seemed to glide effortlessly through it all, smiling at the correct time, inclining her head politely when needed and generally managing to convince everyone that she was a young lady dazed by love and her sudden, unexpected good fortune.

  Yet as the date of the marriage drew nearer, the cocoon of numbness that had been wrapped protectively around her began to unravel, and there were moments as the second week of August sped by that she would wake in the night, filled with despair. The wedding day was no longer weeks away; it was now only a matter of days until she would be married to Dominic Slade, and she was finding it harder and harder to pretend that this was happening to someone else—more and more difficult to tell herself that she would soon wake from this vivid nightmare and discover that everything was just as it had been before that fateful night.

  It became impossible to pretend otherwise as the changes the horde of workmen produced began to near completion. The house and its furnishings were no longer shabby and worn; the exterior glistened with several coats of white paint, the fan-shaped windows and doors were trimmed in a delicate green shade, and inside... Inside, window coverings of velvet and damask hung against the windows, newly arrived carpets now lay upon the recently refinished floors, and the walls and ceilings glowed softly in newly painted shades of pale blue and peach. There were even new pieces of furniture which had only a few days before
arrived from New Orleans, and the once-tattered lawns and shrubs were now meticulously and tidily trimmed and scythed. Willowglen was rapidly being restored to the state it had been in Jeffery Seymour's time, and though Melissa was conscious of a sensation of indignation that it was at her expense that all this was happening, she could not but be happy for Zachary, happy for all the inhabitants of Willowglen. At least, she thought moodily, her foolishness had brought some good.

  Even Latimer had been paid his beastly money—Dominic had graciously paid her the gold on the date he had promised. It had given her a wrench to realize that Folly was no longer solely hers, but she had been conscious of the lifting of a great burden when she had sat down with Mr. Smithfield and made arrangements for her father's final debt to be paid in full. Fortunately, Mr. Smithfield had handled everything for her and she had not been forced to actually give Latimer the money herself, which was just as well—she might have scratched his eyes out.

  Yet even with the debt paid, she had the uneasy feeling that she had not heard the last of it. There had been that peculiar expression on Dominic's face when he had paid her the money, as if he had found her acceptance of it distasteful. She had made no mention of what she intended to do with it, and she wondered if Dominic thought that she was being greedy—he was to be her husband and perhaps he had assumed that she would not press him for the money. But she had, and the unpleasant idea had occurred to her that mayhap all she had done was change one debt for another, another with a much higher price to pay....

  She refused to think about it, just as she refused to think beyond each day, stubbornly continuing to pretend that soon enough she would awaken from this nightmare and discover that it all had been a bad dream.