Weddings of the Century: A Pair of Wedding Novellas Read online

  Weddings of the Century

  A Pair of Wedding Novellas

  Mary Jo Putney

  Contents

  Introduction

  Claiming His Bride

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  The Wedding of the Century

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Author’s Note

  Also by Mary Jo Putney

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Weddings of the Century includes two novellas, Claiming His Bride and The Wedding of the Century.

  Claiming His Bride was originally published in a Signet historical romance anthology called Dashing and Dangerous, which is why the original title was the much more dangerous-sounding, The Devil's Spawn. But Claiming His Bride is much more appropriate because the story is about a young man returning after years of roaming the world to reclaim the young woman he's always loved—if she'll have him. This is the first time this story has appeared in a digital edition.

  Dominick's story was inspired by the odd but true tale of Princess Caraboo. In 1817, a strangely dressed young woman speaking an unintelligible language convinced a town of people in Gloucestershire that she'd been kidnapped from her home in Polynesia and escaped her captors in the Bristol Channel, which was how she ended up in England.

  She was much feted by the locals until a boardinghouse keeper in Bristol identified her as an English servant girl named Mary Baker with a vivid imagination and apparently some experience with sailors from exotic places. Her story gave me the idea for Dominick's strategy in Claiming His Bride, and it was later the subject of a charming movie named Princess Caraboo.

  The origin of the next story in this volume, The Wedding of the Century, was when I was delighted to be the first non-Harlequin author ever asked to contribute a long novella to a Harlequin historical romance anthology. The theme was "Brides," and what romance author doesn't love that topic? Inspiration for this story came from the real life marriage of the great American heiress Consuelo Vanderbilt to the 9th Duke of Marlborough. (Winston Churchill was the duke's first cousin.)

  Blenheim Palace, the vast Marlborough estate, is near Oxford, England, where I lived for several years, and whenever I took visitors for the Blenheim tour, I saw the huge, splendid family portrait painted by John Singer Sargent. Consuelo was a beautiful swan-necked duchess, her husband looks very much like a duke, and the painting includes their two little boys and two dogs, but the marriage was not a happy one and ended in divorce.

  I thought it would be fun to write a similar story with a happy ending. (Consuelo found happiness in her second marriage to a distinguished Frenchman.) I was aided in this by the marvelous book To Marry an English Lord by Gail McColl and Carol McD. Wallace. It's packed full of pictures and delicious details about American heiresses who married into the British aristocracy. (This is the same book that later inspired Julian Fellowes to create Downton Abbey.)

  I liked the idea of finding two real people buried within all the celebrity trappings of such a famous and wildly publicized marriage. And then giving them a happily ever after.

  –MJP

  Claiming His Bride

  Chapter 1

  Devonshire, 1819

  "But what if he refuses?"

  Dominick Chandler silenced her with a kiss, which was what happened whenever she tried to be practical. Roxanne Mayfield sighed and relaxed into his embrace for a moment before pushing away. Trying to sound stern, she said, "Papa is not going to be persuaded by kisses."

  Gray eyes sparkling, he brushed an errant red curl from her cheek. "That's all right. I wouldn't want to kiss him anyhow."

  Trying not to laugh, she said, "Dominick, please be serious, we haven't much time. It was hard to convince Miss Bartholomew to let me see you alone for even ten minutes, and that wouldn't have happened if she weren't half in love with you herself."

  His expression turned grave. "It's true that I've been a bit wild in the past, but I've never done anything really dreadful. My birth is good, I have a respectable income, and I'm reasonably eligible. Why would your father reject me? Here in the wilds of the West Country, there isn't a lot of competition for your hand."

  She chuckled. "You mean he'll take your offer because I'm so hopelessly plain that otherwise he risks having me on his hands forever."

  "Minx!" Dominick said appreciatively. "You know that's not what I meant. If you'd had a Season in London, you would have had half the men in England at your feet. But then you might not have met me."

  "A thought too terrible to contemplate." For the thousandth time she marveled that such a splendid, charming, handsome man had fallen in love with her. But he had. Ever since they met by chance while riding, there had been magic between them. Roxanne suspected that she was the only person who really knew the honest, caring, vulnerable heart that lay beneath his dashing exterior. When she had recognized that, she had started to believe his declarations of love.

  His hands tightened on hers. "I'm no paragon, Roxanne, but I swear that I will never fail you."

  "I believe you." She shivered. "But I'm afraid, Dominick. You don't know Papa. He… He's not always reasonable, and he is not going to like the fact that you and I have been seeing each other without his knowledge.”

  "Since you spend all your time on the estate, how else could we have met?" Dominick said reasonably. "Granted, our courtship has been a bit irregular, but we've done nothing improper." He grinned. "I'm waiting for marriage for that."

  She blushed and looked down, knowing how easily he could have seduced her if he had put his mind to it. She was lucky that he was honorable. But Papa was still not going to be pleased that she had a suitor. "If my father refuses your offer and forbids me to see you, what will we do?"

  "Why, we'll run away and be married, my love."

  Her eyes widened. "I couldn't do that! There would be the most dreadful scandal."

  He arched his brows. "You wouldn't risk a scandal to become my wife?"

  She bit her lip. What he was asking went against every principle of morality and propriety. To elope would be to carry a stigma for the rest of their lives. And yet ... Softly she said, "For that, I would dare anything."

  His smile returned. "Then it's a bargain, my darling vixen. If your father refuses, we'll head for Gretna Green. You'll be the most lovely bride in Britain. Promise?"

  Praying it would not come to that, she said, "I promise."

  He gave her a last, lingering kiss, then turned to leave the drawing room so he could go to her father's study. As Roxanne watched him leave, a chill ran through her, a premonition that something would go horribly wrong.

  Though her father was so absorbed in studying his bones and bits of pottery that he scarcely spoke to her, he did like having her around to order the household and write his letters. He hated change, and his first reaction would be to refuse any offer.

  It wouldn't help that Dominick had a reputation for wildness and he was universally considered too handsome and charming for his own good. Yet Dominick was right that he was an entirely eligible suitor. In fact, he was something of a catch for quiet Roxanne Mayfield, if the truth be known.

  Surely in time her father wo
uld come around. All they needed was patience.

  Her hands clenched. And if patience wasn't enough, well, there was always Gretna Green.

  * * *

  After entering the study, Dominick spent several minutes shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot before he cleared his throat and said, "Sir William?"

  The baronet lifted his head and stared balefully at his visitor. "Who are you and what do you want?"

  Sir William Mayfield was a renowned student of primitive civilizations, and Dominick had assumed he was an absentminded scholar. But as he looked into Mayfield's cold eyes, he suddenly understood Roxanne's trepidation. This was not going to be easy.

  He thought of Roxanne's sweet laughing spirit and warmth, her slim body and tantalizing red hair, the way she made him feel complete and happy, and he cleared his throat again. "Sir William, my name is Dominick Chandler, and I would like your permission to pay my addresses to Miss Mayfield."

  Pure shock washed over the baronet. Leaning back in his chair, he said, "Of the Wiltshire Chandlers?"

  Thinking it a good sign that her father knew of his family, Dominick said, "Yes, sir. My father was Charles Chandler, and I am heir to my uncle, Viscount Chandler."

  His pale eyes like ice, the baronet said without inflection, "So you wish to marry my daughter. You're what, twenty-one or twenty-two?"

  "Twenty-one, sir."

  "And Roxanne is eighteen." With startling suddenness, Mayfield's calm manner erupted into rage. His face reddening, he snarled, "Do you seriously think I will allow my daughter to ruin her life by marrying a worthless, debt-ridden, dishonorable wastrel like you?"

  Dominick stiffened, stunned by the virulence of the attack. Controlling his temper with effort, he said, "I'll admit that I've sometimes been intemperate, sir, but I'm not debt-ridden. I've inherited a competence from a great-aunt, and I'm about to take up an appointment with the East India Company. When my uncle dies, I'll inherit his title and a very pretty property. You won't have to worry about your daughter's future, sir. "

  Mayfield leaped to his feet. Though he was inches shorter than Dominick, his fury made him menacing. "There has never been a Chandler worth the powder to blow him to hell! You're a bad colt from a bad stable, boy, and I don't want you near Roxanne! Do you understand me? I forbid you ever to see my daughter again!"

  Dominick felt the blood drain from his face. Thank God Roxanne had already agreed to elope with him. That was not the way he had wanted to start their marriage, but if an elopement was necessary ...

  Guessing his thoughts, Sir William growled, "Don't think that you can get around me, Chandler. I will discharge my daughter's worthless chaperone, and from this day forward she will not be allowed out of my house without two escorts. Men, not simpering females who might be taken in by you. Every servant on this estate, every laborer, will be told to give the alarm if you appear. The gamekeepers will be instructed to shoot on sight. By God, I'll put man traps around the property! Step in one of those and it will cut you in half. You'll never see her again, boy! Resign yourself to that fact."

  Dominick had aroused exasperation in many, and occasionally anger, but never anything like this. Bewildered, he asked, "Is it me that you hate, or would you feel the same about any man who wanted to marry Roxanne?"

  "Both. My daughter is mine, and she belongs here at Maybourne. But it's a special pleasure to deny you. I knew and hated your father. He was just as handsome, just as selfish, just as arrogant, as you." Mayfield's face worked angrily. "He ruined the girl I loved! She killed herself after he betrayed her by marrying your mother, who was an heiress. I was never able to make him pay for his sins, and now he's beyond my reach, frying in hell. But the sins of the father are visited on future generations, and the good Lord has given me the opportunity to inflict a small measure of justice on you. I've waited many years for this moment."

  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.

  Her vision darkened and she swayed on the verge of fainting. It couldn't be true. It couldn't!

  Yet that was his signature, she recognized it from the notes he'd sent her. Charming, laughing letters, in which he had declared his love ...

  Nausea swept through her. She had believed him. She had been fool enough to believe him!