The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 793

On the night before the wedding, Serena was still holding her mother's page.

She sat on the narrow bed with the paper against her face. Old rose. Ink. Under it, faint as a breath, cedar.

Two soft knocks, then a third, a little late. She knew that knock.

"Serena?" Gideon said quietly, through the door. "It's your father."

"I know, Father," she said gently. "Come in."

He didn't come in. He never did.

"They won't let me walk you up tomorrow," he said, miserable. "Your grandmother says it would look as if the house chose for you. On this coast the bride walks alone. She goes to fetch the man she wants."

"Then I'll fetch him," Serena said calmly.

"I came up these stairs twice," he whispered. "In two years. Twice. I stood outside this door and I couldn't open it."

Her throat went tight.

"I'm not brave, sweetheart," Gideon said, very low. "You know I'm not."

"You read me a line once," she said softly. "From the green book. The old teacher from the east. Do you remember it?"

A long silence on the other side of the door.

"To see what is right and not to do it is want of courage," he said hoarsely.

"You read it to me when I was six," Serena said. "I thought it was about other people."

She opened the door. He stood on the top step, grey and stooped.

"So did I," Gideon said, ashamed.

"Then start tomorrow." She held his eyes. "You don't have to walk me anywhere. Just stand up when I go past. And don't look at your shoes."

His eyes filled.

"I'll try," he whispered.

"Father." She held the door. "The prince. What do you think of him?"

He thought about it for a long time.

"He feeds the dogs," Gideon said slowly. "He says thank you to everyone. Even to Preston." He almost smiled. "And he's the only man in this house who never once looks at his shoes."

---

By ten the next morning, the entrance hall was lined with gift tables under white cloth, and the guests walked along them reading prices nobody had written down.

The Pryce table came first. Deeds on a silk cushion. A gold-framed map of the lake shore.

"Twelve miles," a woman in green breathed, impressed. "Honoria isn't giving a son. She's giving a county."

"She's buying a nose," her husband said dryly. "Rosalind's nose. Everybody knows it."

Then Patricia's table, though it wasn't her wedding. One velvet case. A diamond as big as a quail's egg.

"From Count Charles," Patricia announced sweetly, to anyone who stopped. "He's flying in from the capital next week. He couldn't wait to send it."

"Is he really that rich?" a girl asked, amazed.

"Twice the Pryces," Patricia said, smiling. "At least."

A quiet man in a cheap brown suit stood beside it, looking only at the stone.

Alexander passed with a crate of glasses for the kitchen. Felicia walked at his elbow.

"Who's the man in the brown suit?" she whispered, curious.

"A jeweller's man," Alexander murmured. "He's waiting to take the stone back at five."

"Back?" Felicia frowned. "Why would anyone take a gift back?"

"Ask the count," he said mildly, and kept walking.

At the very end, by the cloakroom door, was a third table. Empty. One card, in Pauline's neat hand: From His Highness, the Count.

"Oh, look," a man called, delighted. "The prince's gifts!"

"Don't be cruel, darling," his wife said, laughing harder. "He has eleven dollars. Maybe he's saving them."

"Twelve," somebody corrected. "I heard there's a coin."

"A groom with no dowry isn't a groom," an old lady sniffed. "He's a lodger."

"When the Ashworth girl married," another said grandly, "the groom gave her a racehorse. A racehorse! This one gives her a tablecloth."

Marissa stopped at the empty table in her new pink coat and frowned.

"Is there a table for us?" she asked hopefully. "The bride's family. Do we get gifts?"

"You're the bride's family, Marissa," Cordelia giggled into her sherry. "You're supposed to give them."

"Then I'm keeping my coat," she said firmly.

---

At eleven o'clock, there was no groom.

The great hall was full. By the high table, Julian Pryce stood alone in a grey morning suit, checking his watch.

"That's four times," a girl whispered, giggling. "Lord Julian has checked his watch four times."

"He's bored," her friend said. " It's the lake. Twelve miles of water would bore anyone."

"He's run," a man whispered, pleased.

"Of course he's run," Preston said loudly from the front bench, phone up. "Would you marry a blind girl in front of the whole coast? He's halfway to Harland on a fishing boat."

"She's not blind any more," Cordelia murmured.

"She was blind when he signed up," Preston said, grinning. "Nobody told him about the refund policy."

The bench roared.

---

In the garage room behind the kennels, Alexander sat on the narrow bed with the phone in both hands. He wore his old Harland coat, salt-stiff wool that smelled of cedar.

Felicia ran in, out of breath, white flowers in her fist.

"Prince," she said urgently. "They're saying you've run!"

"I know," he said quietly.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify