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And he was surprised to see the Derryman seal on the back of one of the letters.
He broke it, unfolded the paper, and read,
My dear Dalton~
It is with joy that I share that my beautiful, darling daughter, Maxine, has finally finished her studies, returned from Fleuridia, and is now amenable to meeting her affianced in order to begin preparations to be wed.
Would you like us to come to you at Dalwin? Or would you be our guests at Posey Park? Or we could meet in the middle as we both have houses in Newton.
Please advise.
We so look forward to this alliance of Derryman and Dalton.
It will be a jubilant day for us both!
Yours in humble service to Hawkvale~
Edgar Dawes
7th Count of Derryman
Ansley stared at the note, aghast.
Maxine Dawes, albeit lovely, and very sweet, and a young woman he had enjoyed spending several visits with at Lancester Sanatorium, was in absolutely no condition to marry his son, and she never would be.
He had, of course, set about discovering why Derryman persistently avoided all communications and attempts to bring the betrothal contract to fruition.
What he had found was that Derryman had been lying to him for twenty years.
His daughter had taken a tumble from a horse when she was but six years of age, she’d hit her head, and she hadn’t been the same since.
Or, rather, she was the same.
In behavior, she was still six.
However, her age was twenty-six.
This might also answer the question on everyone’s lips, when Maxine was supposedly sent to Fleuridia to attend boarding school, and shortly thereafter, Derryman’s wife took her own life in a ghastly manner that still was spoken of with shock.
He had hoped Derryman would beg off himself, however the man needed to do that to save face.
But this…
Ansley sat back in his chair.
He’d had a lengthy, and confidential, discussion with her doctor. He was told she would never recover. It was an impossibility.
Unless they found some miracle.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Derryman’s play was.
But he would find out.
And then they would finish this, and Loren would be free.
Further, Ansley would be free to put his foot down.
His son was to find a woman, settle down, make her heavy with child (repeatedly) and stop galivanting about Hawkvale (and farther afield), bedding women, partaking in games of chance, larking about…with heavy, terrifying doses of his activities of the night before.
Playing a vigilante.
The House of Dalton was at stake.
And every Duke in his line made several vows when he accepted that title, all of which were crucial.
But the continuation of the line was the most important of all.
Even more important than their vow of loyalty to the king.
On this thought, Ansley sat forward and took out a crisp piece of his stationery.
And he wrote his reply.
Chapter Two
Turkey Baster
Maxine Dawes
Community Manager
Hawkvale
The Road to Pinkwick House
Marbleborne Region
The Parallel
Two Weeks Later
Turkey baster.
If she wanted a kid, she should have used that damned turkey baster.
These were my thoughts as the carriage…
Yeah, that’s what I said…
The carriage…
Slowly made its way down the road, bipping and bopping, swaying and bouncing, and serious to God, with all that movement, it was a wonder I didn’t hurl all over my gown.
Yeah, that’s what I said.
My gown.
Women wore gowns in this world.
And corsets.
One thing I knew for certain, the kind you had to wear was nowhere near as comfortable as the kind you bought to give a thrill to your guy.
I looked at “my dad.”
He was a lot heavier in this world.
This might be because he was a lot richer. Or it could be because he was a lot lazier (because when he wasn’t all up in my face, teaching me things about this world, he pretty much did nothing but sit around and plot, or maybe it was sulk). Or it could be God’s punishment because he was a gigantically bigger dick than my real dad was.
And considering my dad was a colossal asshole, that was serious.
But I had a plan.
Play his game. Pretend I was doing his bidding (and FYI: his bidding was that I was supposed to let some royal guy marry me, have sex with me, make me pregnant, and once I had a son, I could have my mom back and go home, leaving said son behind—uh-huh, that was his bidding).
My plan was, while I went about doing this unconscionably awful stuff (or going through the motions), I’d figure out where Mom was. Once I did that, I’d get her, and that troubled woman who looked exactly like me, who was now with her.
After that there would be the small matter of finding a witch to send us from this Disney Movie from Hell back to the real world.
And when we were home, I’d need to sell a kidney and about a million pints of plasma in order to afford the therapy it was going to take to see Mom through the aftermath of this nightmare. Not to mention the ongoing care that chick was going to need. Because I knew another thing for certain, she seemed docile and sweet (albeit freaked way the heck out), but she was messed up and she needed someone looking after her. And for certain this guy, who was her father, wasn’t doing a bang-up job of it.
