Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(55)

“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 Dominique 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.”