?”
“McDougal tried to bully me into making the union additional concessions, using his involvement with you as leverage. He threatened to besmirch your good name and blacken mine if I refused his demands. When I did refuse his blackmail, he succeeded in both.”
Bile rose in her throat. “You must be mistaken. Robert would never do any of those despicable things.”
“You were to be his meal ticket. When he saw he would get no extortion money out of me, McDougal abandoned you in your hour of need. That above all is what I cannot forget or forgive. Now you are ruined. Marrying Talbot Bowdoin is your only option.”
Papa was only doing what he thought best. Despite the embarrassment she had caused him, he was determined to rescue her through an arranged marriage to a complete stranger.
She was just as determined to stand on her own two feet. “I think I should get away from the city for a while. I quite need a change of scenery.”
“I agree. A quiet wedding to Mr. Bowdoin provides you with that opportunity.”
“No arranged marriage! I need to go by myself.”
“Where?”
She plucked at her hanky. “Somewhere. Anywhere.”
“I am willing to provide for you, Veronica. It is a question of your happiness, not a question of money.”
“I cannot accept any further financial help.”
“Damnation! You will need support!”
“I need nothing of the kind.” She lifted her chin. “I shall support myself.”
“How? How will you support yourself?”
“My writing. Other female authors have been self-supporting based on their book earnings.”
“May I remind you that you have not put a pen to paper since your unfortunate illness—”
“Not illness. You refer to my recent miscarriage. And subsequent low spirits.”
“I do not mean to be cruel, dear, but—”
“You could never be cruel, Papa,” she quickly interjected.
“There are realities to consider. At present, you have scant earnings. No prospects. No suitors. In the eyes of society, you are disgraced. Furthermore, since your physician said you are unlikely to conceive again, what man will offer for you?”
“The one you expect me to marry. This Talbot Bowdoin.”
“So take his offer, go away for a time, and allow this scandal to die.”
Dear God. The helpless look in her father’s eyes cut her to the quick. She had put him through so much already with her book, an erotic work he had gritted his teeth and accepted. Because he loved her. Her writing must have humiliated him, yet he had stoically kept his embarrassment to himself and encouraged her writing. How many fathers would do the same?
And how could any loving daughter put a father through any more?
And he was right—if she left town now, where would she go? Limited funds, no will to write—how would she live? Apart from an overactive imagination, she had no other talent, no other skills. If she also refused her father’s financial support, she would end up on the docks, servicing men far worse than Robert McDougal.
“Veronica, my dear child, I love you.”
“And indeed, Papa, I love you.”
“Please understand, this is not something I undertake lightly. This marriage is a solution to your difficulties, one I refused initially.”
“ Initially ?”
“Mr. Bowdoin approached me as this scandal was breaking, and I refused him. In my arrogance, I thought I could cover the story up, but I failed. And now, look at you. Hollow cheeked and pale. So melancholy you no longer write.”
“I have not made Mr. Bowdoin’s acquaintance. Why would he offer for me, used goods?”
“He said he read your book and fell immediately and hopelessly in love with your exuberant zest for life. A wild infatuation he cannot escape. He knows everything, including the doctor’s prognosis.”
“I see. And still he proposed. Some infatuation,” she said glumly. “He must have a self-destructive streak to take me on. Or be completely mad. ”
“Nothing of the sort. These things happen, my
“McDougal tried to bully me into making the union additional concessions, using his involvement with you as leverage. He threatened to besmirch your good name and blacken mine if I refused his demands. When I did refuse his blackmail, he succeeded in both.”
Bile rose in her throat. “You must be mistaken. Robert would never do any of those despicable things.”
“You were to be his meal ticket. When he saw he would get no extortion money out of me, McDougal abandoned you in your hour of need. That above all is what I cannot forget or forgive. Now you are ruined. Marrying Talbot Bowdoin is your only option.”
Papa was only doing what he thought best. Despite the embarrassment she had caused him, he was determined to rescue her through an arranged marriage to a complete stranger.
She was just as determined to stand on her own two feet. “I think I should get away from the city for a while. I quite need a change of scenery.”
“I agree. A quiet wedding to Mr. Bowdoin provides you with that opportunity.”
“No arranged marriage! I need to go by myself.”
“Where?”
She plucked at her hanky. “Somewhere. Anywhere.”
“I am willing to provide for you, Veronica. It is a question of your happiness, not a question of money.”
“I cannot accept any further financial help.”
“Damnation! You will need support!”
“I need nothing of the kind.” She lifted her chin. “I shall support myself.”
“How? How will you support yourself?”
“My writing. Other female authors have been self-supporting based on their book earnings.”
“May I remind you that you have not put a pen to paper since your unfortunate illness—”
“Not illness. You refer to my recent miscarriage. And subsequent low spirits.”
“I do not mean to be cruel, dear, but—”
“You could never be cruel, Papa,” she quickly interjected.
“There are realities to consider. At present, you have scant earnings. No prospects. No suitors. In the eyes of society, you are disgraced. Furthermore, since your physician said you are unlikely to conceive again, what man will offer for you?”
“The one you expect me to marry. This Talbot Bowdoin.”
“So take his offer, go away for a time, and allow this scandal to die.”
Dear God. The helpless look in her father’s eyes cut her to the quick. She had put him through so much already with her book, an erotic work he had gritted his teeth and accepted. Because he loved her. Her writing must have humiliated him, yet he had stoically kept his embarrassment to himself and encouraged her writing. How many fathers would do the same?
And how could any loving daughter put a father through any more?
And he was right—if she left town now, where would she go? Limited funds, no will to write—how would she live? Apart from an overactive imagination, she had no other talent, no other skills. If she also refused her father’s financial support, she would end up on the docks, servicing men far worse than Robert McDougal.
“Veronica, my dear child, I love you.”
“And indeed, Papa, I love you.”
“Please understand, this is not something I undertake lightly. This marriage is a solution to your difficulties, one I refused initially.”
“ Initially ?”
“Mr. Bowdoin approached me as this scandal was breaking, and I refused him. In my arrogance, I thought I could cover the story up, but I failed. And now, look at you. Hollow cheeked and pale. So melancholy you no longer write.”
“I have not made Mr. Bowdoin’s acquaintance. Why would he offer for me, used goods?”
“He said he read your book and fell immediately and hopelessly in love with your exuberant zest for life. A wild infatuation he cannot escape. He knows everything, including the doctor’s prognosis.”
“I see. And still he proposed. Some infatuation,” she said glumly. “He must have a self-destructive streak to take me on. Or be completely mad. ”
“Nothing of the sort. These things happen, my
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