The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 786

"Thank you," Alexander said. "It's very clean."

Preston stared at him. Then he laughed again, louder, and went away shaking his head.

Felicia put the bags down. Her hands were trembling.

"We've both slept in worse," Alexander said. "Unpack. We're expected upstairs."

The Baroness received him in the long drawing room, standing at the far end, by the fireplace.

She was eighty, small and straight, with white hair pinned so tightly it looked painful and an ebony cane she clearly didn't need. She did not come forward or sit down. She let him walk the whole length of the carpet to her, past three sofas full of her family.

Beside her, a tall woman in grey held a white card.

"My daughter Pauline," the Baroness said. "She'll explain how things are done."

"Your Highness." Pauline didn't curtsy. She read from the card in a smooth, pleasant voice, the voice of someone reading a menu to a child.

"In this house, the women of the line sit at the head of the table. The married-in husbands sit below them, in the order of their dowries. Mr. Harvey brought a share in a shipping line. Mr. Gideon brought a box of books."

She glanced at the card. "You brought nothing. So you'll sit below the married-in husbands."

"Below the husbands," Alexander repeated.

"At the end. You'll speak when you're spoken to. You won't use the front door. You won't go upstairs past the first landing. And you won't ask for anything." She lowered the card.

"Married-in men do not ask. Is that clear?"

"Very clear. Thank you for the rules."

Somebody on the sofas giggled. It was a woman of about forty with yellow hair and a glass of sherry.

"He thanked her, Mother," she said.

"Cordelia," the Baroness said, without looking round.

"I'm only saying."

The Baroness looked at Alexander for a long moment, the way a woman looks at a horse she has been sold at the wrong price.

She had never wanted him. The pact was her late husband's, signed with the palace before any of her grandchildren were born: Havenworth first, and Tiffany if Havenworth refused.

For twenty years, having a line to the emperor made them the talk of every high-society table. Now, it was just an embarrassing joke.

The tenth prince was out of the imperial succession.

"The wedding is in eight days," she said. "Until then you'll keep out of my sight. After it, you'll do the same."

…

At dinner, his place was at the very end of the long table, behind the chair of a nervous, balding man named Harvey, who turned round once to say, "Sorry, sorry, I'll move up," and then didn't.

Nobody mentioned the bride.

Nobody said her name. One place halfway down the table was never laid, and nobody looked at it.

Across from it sat a young woman in pale blue, very pretty, with a soft voice and a smile that never stopped.

"You must be so excited," she said to Alexander, down the whole length of the table. "I'm Patricia. Serena's cousin. We're all so happy for you both."

"Will I meet her before the wedding?" Alexander asked.

The table went quiet.

"Oh, no," Patricia said sweetly. "She's resting. She's very... shy."

"Shy," Cordelia scoffed into her sherry.

The entire family had conspired to conceal the woman's blindness and muteness, yet they dared to treat the prince like worthless garbage. The sheer hypocrisy was sickening.

"She's very quiet," Patricia said. "You'll see. You'll meet her at the altar. She won't give you any trouble at all."

"Patricia," Pauline said.

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