His heart.
Dominique had made it clear that he desired her, but that he too feared rejection. How was she to continue on in the same fashion, knowing that fear kept both of them from proclaiming what needed to be said? If she took the first step, if she were to be bold and confess her love, then she put her heart and what felt like her soul out into the open. Oh she had said it before, but after he was shot, she wasn’t even sure if he still remembered, or if he thought it was merely her emotions running high. If he did so, then he feared she would reject him and if her answer was less than perfect or if she paused in any way, would he begin to shout and act beastly, thinking she felt differently.
It was all too much. Her mind whirled with possibilities. She chewed her lip in thought, keeping her eyes downcast the entire way home. Clearly, Dominique was distracted, for he said nothing to her once they pulled up to the large estate. Instead, he jumped out of the carriage, offered his hand, and made some ridiculous excuse about seeing that Hunter hadn’t jumped headfirst from the balcony.
Bewildered and quite tired from spending the last of her energy arguing with herself the entire way home, Isabelle walked blindly into the castle, not bothering to look any direction but at the stairs as she slowly ascended to her bedroom.
Perhaps a nap would set her to rights? She stifled a yawn. Yes, a nap would be just the thing. Maybe her imagination would be at rest and she could wake up refreshed, ready to find out why her husband was in such a hurry to find Hunter.
****
Dominique watched his wife slowly walk up the stairs. Always the lady, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand to hide her yawn. She must be utterly exhausted, for she hadn’t said a word the entire ride home. Not that he could blame her, for the past few days had been anything but restful for the girl and he had gone and overwhelmed her with a shopping excursion. But it was necessary, for not only did he need her away from the estate, but he required her exact measurements to put final touches on the ball gown he had ordered for her.
Now, he just had to locate Hunter to make sure everything was set for that evening. Everything had to be perfect.
As expected, Hunter was indeed leaning over one of the balconies above the stairs; he was not, however, planning his own demise. Rather, he was helping one of the servants string up a slew of lanterns filled with candles.
“There you are.” Dominique took a deep breath and looked around the transformed entry leading into the ballroom at the bottom of the stairs. “Do you think you can manage to hurry?”
Hunter glared, his eyes burning with indignation. “Why yes, why don’t I just snap my fingers? Perhaps magical fairies will appear and decorate the entire house to your liking, considering what I’m doing isn’t enough.”
At that precise moment, one of the candles hit the corner of Hunter's jacket lighting him on fire. The outburst caused quite a commotion as the man turned in circles and cursed before a nearby maid finally doused him with a bucket of water.
Dominique desperately tried to hold in his laughter; truly he wasn’t prone to laughing so much in one day. But the sight of his friend, drenched after a day of women's work and decorating was too much.
A chuckle broke free and then another, before Dominique bent over in pure merriment as his laughter echoed off the walls. Hunter joined in. The maids, however, looked shocked for Dominique knew better than any that it had been years since such laughter had danced through the house.
Surely it hadn’t been as bad as all that, had it? His mind played tricks with him. Surely he had at least smiled! But as his gaze quickly darted to the shocked maids, he realized that yes, it had been that bad. If anything it had been worse. And he was to blame for all of it.
Perhaps if he would have visited this particular home, the country estate once in the last ten years, his smile wouldn’t shock them so. But all they had to go on was rumors of the murders and Dominique’s eccentric reputation. He hadn’t been to this estate in years. And his staff still wasn’t sure how to respond to him.
Gathering his wits, he managed to stop laughing as he nudged Hunter, who also stopped grinning like a fool. “Thank you,” Dominique addressed the maid. “For all your hard work, as Hunter has, I’m sure, explained, we are to have a ball in honor of my wife for agreeing to be saddled with me the rest of her days. And, as a surprise, every single staff member is to bring their family and friends to the glorious event tonight.”
At his announcement, the maid’s eyes widened until he was certain they would roll back as she fainted dead away.
“Are you able to notify the staff, Miss…?” Truly, he hadn’t even a clue what her name was. What type of man was he that he could not remember a person’s name! It was as if the darkness he had lived in had destroyed his memory as well.
“Hopkins, Beth Hopkins, your highness.” She curtsied, a flush rising to her cheeks.
“Miss Hopkins.” Dominique said the name. “Do I pay you well?”
Hunter cleared his throat and nudged him. “Dominique, stop scaring the poor girl. I’m sure there is a better time or place to discuss such things. This is not it.”
Dominique ignored him. It wasn’t at all proper to discuss such things publicly in front of anyone, especially a titled guest such as Hunter, but his curiosity was piqued. The fact he had no idea of her name spurred him to think of other notions he hadn’t considered. Had he been a better master than his father? Had he provided for his servants?
He nodded his head and crossed his arms. After a few minutes, in which Miss Hopkins looked to be thinking of a lie, she licked her lips and answered, “You pay me quite well, my lord, for I am able to feed my family and that is all I ask.”
“And clothes, are you able to purchase clothes?”
She was silent.
“And coal for your fire?”
Still no answer. Tears pooled in her eyes.
“Wax for your candles?”
Her lip began to tremble. Hunter’s hand braced Dominique’s arm. Devil take it, he wasn’t going to bite the woman’s head off!
“Allow me to ask you again, Miss Hopkins, and pray do not insult my intelligence by being anything but honest, yes?”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
“Do I pay you well?”
“No, my lord. You do not pay me well.”
“Thank you,” Dominique answered.
Miss Hopkins eyes flashed open, darting from Hunter to Dominique before settling back onto Dominique with a quizzical look.
“I shall double your salary and that of every other staff member as of today. I imagine you can include that piece of information when you invite everyone to the ball tonight, yes?”
“Y-yes, my lord.” A tear ran down her cheek as she curtsied, then reached for his hand, his gloved hand, and bestowed a kiss upon it. “God preserve you, my prince.”
It was the first time any of his staff had ever called him "prince" since his father’s death. In his bitterness, Dominique had always thought it was because of the horrid memories of his father, that they had no desire to remind him of his title, of the title he inherited after murdering his own father.
But now, the way that Miss Hopkins said "my prince", made him believe that perhaps, for the first time in his life he had earned his title. And all because he extended the one thing his father never had.
Mercy.
Chapter Twenty-eight
If I would have known that my music would become my cocoon, that I would turn a blind eye to the darkness of the world, using my own justification for my actions, then it is entirely possible I would have tried to stop what I became. After all, no man wakes up one day hoping to be a beast, praying he can turn into something that people will mock and hate. No, it is a slow fade into the very thing you promised you would never become. How could I have not seen my own father’s reflection when I looked into the mirror? Had I known, I would have fought; I would have tried to be something—anything but him.
—The Diary of Dominiqu
e Maksylov
Isabelle awoke with a start. The room was cast in evening shadows. With a yawn, she made her way to the window and noticed the bright white moon had begun to rise into depths of the blue sky. How long had she been asleep? Confused, she looked around her room. Was dinner to commence soon?
She walked to the door adjoining her room and Dominique’s, the one where she so often shared his bed. Why was it, that as her hand touched the door, memories of his touch flooded her body until she was shivering with desire? It was ridiculous.
But wonderful all the same.
The sleep did nothing to alleviate her worries, for although she felt more rested than she had in the past week, she still could not help but concentrate on his sudden change in behavior. With a sigh she leaned her head against the door and allowed herself a few selfish tears. She was so hopelessly in love with him.
What was wrong with her? She was made of stronger stuff, and yet she couldn’t help but have a heavy heart as she pushed open the door.
But the thing of it was…Well, it wouldn’t budge.
She pushed harder, this time allowing her whole body to move against it.
Still, no movement.
Panic overwhelmed her. Had Dominique locked her in her room?
She banged her fist against the door, twice. Before a throat cleared.
“Miss? May I be of service?” Her maid, Amy, gave her a slightly bewildered look from the open door in the bedroom. Drat, why hadn’t she thought of that? Clearly, sleep had done nothing to clear her muddled thoughts. If anything it had made it worse. How could she forget the actual door into the hallway?
“No, er, that is to say, I was just wondering where I might find my husband.”
Amy grinned and looked down at the floor. “Pardon my firm hand in this, my lady. But the master of the house has left strict instructions as to dinner this evening. If we are to be on time, we must get you ready.”
“But...” Isabelle put her hands on her hips and bit her lip. “Surely, he isn’t demanding I meet him for dinner? Are we truly back to the origin of how I arrived?”
Amy beamed. “Quite the opposite, my lady. Now, if you’ll just have a seat here. The gown just arrived an hour ago and has been pressed. If you’ll allow me, I’ll help dress you before I fix your hair.”
“Dress me?” Isabelle looked down. Indeed, her dress was quite wrinkled. Something fresh would be just the thing. But wait, hadn’t Amy said the gown had just arrived? “Was my gown misplaced for it to just arrive?”
Amy began the tedious task of loosening the worn afternoon dress from Isabelle’s body. “The dressmakers, my lady. They worked tirelessly through the day to finish it for you.”
“For dinner?” Isabelle asked, still confused and a trifle muddled.
“Yes, and the ball,” Amy said quietly.
“Ball?”
Amy nodded. “Now, that is all I am permitted to say, my lady. But may I just say, thank you again for the raises.”
“Raises?” Truly, had Isabelle woken up in a different time and place? What was the girl blabbering about?
“Oh yes,” Amy gushed. “Why the master said you were in full agreement that all the staff would receive a raise. I wasn’t to say anything, but I hadn’t a chance to express my thanks as of yet.”
“Tell me,” Isabelle tried to keep her voice knowledgeable as she bit her lip, “What did my dear husband decide on as adequate for a raise?”
Amy’s hands stilled on Isabelle’s back. “It isn’t proper to discuss such things.”
“I give you leave,” Isabelle said, amused.
“Double,” Amy mumbled.
“Double what?”
“Our salary. It was doubled. Did he not discuss the final number with you?”
“Oh he did,” Isabelle lied through her teeth. “Forgive me, I am still waking up from my nap. Now, let us hurry along with the preparations. I would hate to keep my generous husband waiting.”
Isabelle’s heart warmed at the thought. Her husband, the lying little beast, had set her up to be a part of his gift, when it truly came from his heart, not her own. She stifled a gleeful laugh and turned around to face Amy, but her maid was busy pulling out the most beautiful gown Isabelle had ever seen.
Dark burgundy material flew out from an empire waist bodice. Lower than something she would have ever chosen for herself, it boasted of see-through material across the arms, floating lazily down to an open back with a black-laced train.
It was the exact dress he had picked out, not hours before. Only this time, she suspected, it would fit her perfectly.
“Do you like it?” Amy asked, her voice hinting at concern.
“No.” Isabelle giggled. “I adore it.”
Amy beamed. “Wait until you see the gloves.”
****
Dominique paced at the bottom of the stairs. What the devil was taking her so long? He had specifically sent the maid in to help her get dressed over an hour ago. Surely changing gowns and fixing one's hair didn’t take this long?
Not that he had any experience in the matter.
What with only recently deciding to cut his hair and groom himself.
With a groan, he leaned against the stairway and crossed his arms.
“Impatient?” A familiar and altogether unwelcome voice said behind him.
“Hunter,” Dominique said through clenched teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be making the final arrangements?”
“They’ve been made, thrice, now stop whining and let me have a look at you.”
Dominique scowled and reluctantly pushed away from the railing to face his friend.
“Dominique, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so cleaned up.” Hunter’s eyes held no amusement, strictly astonishment. Dominique wasn’t sure if he should be offended or complimented.
“Are you to say that I normally look disheveled?” He fired back.
“Disheveled?”
Dominique nodded.
“Of course not.”
He exhaled.
“That would be putting it mildly, I’m afraid. In the past you’ve always looked positively rugged, like a pirate lord ready to ravish the lady and take over another ship's treasure.”
Dominique bit back a sharp retort. “And now? Do I still resemble the pirate?”
Hunter smirked. “No, I imagine a pirate will be the furthest thing from your young wife’s mind. Though, I daresay she may mistake you for a rake if you don’t get that smoldering look under control, and please direct it elsewhere. It's making me deuced uncomfortable.”
“Apologies.” Dominique felt himself flush with embarrassment.
“No need.” Hunter slapped his back. “Just be sure to direct your gaze to your wife, and do not forget to please her tonight, lest I find myself on the other end of one of your lust-filled glances again and feel the need to punch you.”
“Agreed.” Dominique cleared his throat just as his gaze swept upwards to the top of the stairs, where the most beautiful woman in the world was making her descent.
Mouth dry, Dominique continued to stare a hole straight through the woman. It was near impossible to drag his eyes away from her face. Lit with excitement, her eyes dazzled with mischief. Lush brown hair was partially held with pins, allowing silky tendrils to dance over her collarbone.
Reluctantly, he allowed his gaze to trail down her graceful neck, to the swell of her bosom as her dress, as if painted on, unapologetically clung to every feminine curve. Her skin seemed to glow, almost translucent through the thin fabric, and he could have sworn he was given glimpses of her long legs as she descended the stairs.
Pride swelled within him. She was his. That was his wife.
He looked to Hunter.
Whose mouth was also gaping open.
Dominique briefly contemplated shooting him.
But then again, he was his best friend.
“One night,” Hunter whispered. “Just give me one night and I’ll secure her affection…”
“It was merely a jest.” Hunter argued, though his voice was husky and his face flushed.
“Do you hear me laughing?”
“No,” Hunter bit out. “Though I could have sworn you growled.”
Dominique smiled. “Yes, well. Beast trumps wolf, now, leave me and my wife a few moments of peace before we join you for dinner, and if you do not cease from making eyes at her I will gouge them out.”
“Truly?” Hunter gave him a knowing look and crossed his arms.
“Fine, I won’t cause blindness, but I will be forced to wrap a blindfold around your head.”
Hunter grinned. “Just makes things more amusing in the bedroom, don’t you think?”
“Hunter…” Dominique warned. “Any more comments such as that and you will truly know what it is like to spend the night with a tavern wench. Don’t make me locate the woman that near traumatized you for life just a few days ago. And don’t you deny it, I still hear you screaming in your sleep.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would, and I will. Don’t tempt me. What did she do to you again?” Dominique had just recently heard the full story of how the woman—Hunter swore it was indeed a woman though Dominique now had his doubts—tortured him and forced him to eat from her large, hairy hands in order to sustain himself.
“Fine. I’ll be just over there—” Hunter nodded to where the brandy was, “Attempting to drink myself into a stupor. Perhaps I’ll be too foxed to remember the smell of sweaty meat. One can only hope.” With a nod, he hastily made his way toward the liquor. “Cheers,” he grumbled.
Dominique couldn’t even muster the ability to feel guilty for his threat. Quickly he reentered the room. Isabelle was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, examining her gloves.
Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales) Page 17
