Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(21)

“She likes music,” Hunter pointed out.

“Yes, well, music doesn’t like her,” Dominique retorted.

“Teach her.”

Dominique froze, hands still covering his face. “You cannot be serious? Please tell me this is just another one of your jokes you say to amuse yourself at everyone else’s expense. She is unteachable!”

“You don’t know that,” Hunter argued.

“Yes, yes I do!” Dominique shot out of his chair. “She refuses to dine with me, she scowls at me at every turn, and her voice makes me want to cut off my own ears!”

“Only her singing voice. Her conversational voice is quite pretty.” Hunter let out a besotted sigh.

“The devil you say!” Dominique kicked a chair. “She converses with the great Wolf of Haverstone and refuses to even greet me in the morning!”

Hunter laughed and shook his head. “It does help to be polite. You do know what being polite is, correct? Perhaps it would help you to teach her. Mayhap it will help both of you to build some semblance of a relationship since you’re stuck together in holy matrimony.”

It was aggravating to say the least, that his friend had conjured words from the very woman that Dominique shared a bed with every night. She refused to acknowledge him in the morning, and often took her dinner in her room claiming she was sick.

Admitting defeat, Dominique took another seat and cursed. “I have no idea where to start.”

“Hello.”

“Pardon?”

“Start with hello, or perhaps sorry. You do offend her with every other word pouring forth from your mouth.” And with that Hunter stood and began walking toward the door. “Oh, and Dominique?”

His head jerked up.

“Do try to write a song worthy of the woman you’re teaching it to. It wouldn’t be right to have her throw herself from the highest balcony because your music depresses her very soul.”

“They couldn’t prove that!” Dominique argued.

With a laugh, Hunter waved him off and exited.

The cur! It had been years since anyone had brought that up! And it wasn’t his fault that someone found his music so moving that they wanted to promptly float into the afterlife! Or in the gentleman’s case, plummet into the eternal.

Though that cursed note he left gave Dominique pause. Perhaps Hunter was right. Not that he would ever say anything of the sort aloud, and to Hunter nonetheless, but the girl did like music, even if it despised her.

Perhaps it would be the only thing that would put them on common ground. With a sigh, a few curses and ten minutes of senseless pacing, Dominique had made up his mind. He would go to her, he would ask politely, and he would face rejection—again.

****

“My lady?” Miss Ward knocked on the door. “The master wishes an audience.”

“Perhaps he can pay some servants to listen to him roar and bellow orders. I’m busy.” Isabelle shifted the book between her tired hands and sighed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit and read. Not that she hated reading, but only three books were in her room and though Miss Ward had hinted that Dominique had an expansive library, the last thing she wanted to do was ask him if she could see it.

He’d probably demand she see it at a certain hour and then blame her if for some reason all the books weren’t returned promptly the next day. Blast, he’d probably charge her too.

The man was a conundrum. Nothing and everything seemed to faze him. Yet, a shiver ran down her spine. When he smiled, which had only been twice since she’d met him, the world seemed to fade away.

If only he would shave that blasted beard! And at least try to pull his hair back! He looked like a beast! A Russian ruffian!

“My lady?” Miss Ward's voice was now more urgent. “He says it’s of the most importance. It is in regards to your instruction on how to be a proper wife.”

Furious, Isabelle tossed the book aside, leapt from her chair ran for the door and threw it open. Miss Ward was waiting on the other side, wringing her hands within her apron. “Just this way, my lady.”

Miss Ward was silent, which truly was a first, as she led Isabelle down the long hallway into the East Wing of the large castle.

She was ushered into the spacious room and waited for her husband to make his appearance. Isabelle tried her best to appear bored, but it was impossible. The room was built for movement. A large piano lay in the corner and giant windows lined the far wall. And everywhere she looked were places to sit and enjoy music, including an elaborate fireplace that seemed to take up an entire side of the room.

The room itself seemed to sing, giving her the all too familiar urge to belt her favorite songs from her lungs. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t sing, or even whistle for that matter. Passion ignited within her every time she was moved in such a way and the only way to express such passion was to make a joyful noise.

With a giggle she opened her mouth.

“If you value your life, you will refrain from making any sort of noise from those delectable lips of yours,” Dominique said from behind her. How had he snuck up on her? His breath was hot on her neck. Trembling, she clenched her jaw.

Dominique seemed to relax behind her. “God be praised, at least you listen to reason.”

Isabelle took a deep breath.

His large hand covered her lips with such haste her mouth was still wide open when he clamped it shut.