Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(54)

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.