Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(64)

Hunter spoke up, “Yes imagine it.”

The raven-haired beauty glared at Hunter but said nothing. Nor did her body language give away any sort of previous meeting.

Family reunions. Truly glorious, something to look forward to in the future, no doubt.

Dominique cleared his throat. “I will have rooms readied for you at once, your grace.” He nodded to Brinks who was standing outside the room watching the exchange with an amused grin on his face.

He cleared his throat for the second time, and Brinks disappeared around the corner.

“Now,” Dominique addressed the Duke. “I trust one of England’s greatest spies has yet again helped us retrieve your sister-in-law?”

Montmouth nodded. “Yes, it seems Gwen sold as many of her possessions as she could in order to go searching for her lost sister. She imagined the great beast of Russia was set on killing her.”

“Lovely bedtime story, do be sure to tell me that one someday, Dominique,” Hunter interjected with amusement.

Montmouth glared. “At any rate, the man who rescued her, though I use the term loosely considering her disheveled state, hasn’t been seen since, nor do I know his identity. However, I’m not sure I wish to thank him. Murdering him sounds more likely, since Gwen has yet to explain where she obtained the marks on her neck and arms.”

Hunter chose that opportune moment to have a fit of coughing. He bent over and grabbed at Dominique’s coat.

With a resigned sigh, Dominique pushed his friend away and once again faced the duke. “Your grace, as you can see Isabelle is quite alive and healthy.”

“I cannot see that,” Montmouth clipped. “Perhaps you need to look closer, for my sister-in-law looks ready to burst into tears at any moment, and since you are the only one I can imagine who caused such pain, you will forgive me for not being more polite or well-mannered. I have half a mind to shoot you for buying her. What’s worse is you brought her into a heavily French-occupied area!”

Domnique didn’t think it would be wise to point out that the duke had done the same with his own wife.

“My mother-in-law is in Bedlam, and it seems Isabelle has traded one nightmare for another. Do you deny it?”

He couldn’t. Dominique wanted to deny it, to fight, to explain the whole story, but the truth of the matter was, Isabelle had put up with the worst of nightmares, and he was to blame.

“I do not deny it.”

“At least you have some honor.”

Hunter took a step forward, but Dominique stopped him with his hand.

“Now,” Montmouth spat. “We will stay as long as it takes to gather what belongings Isabelle has here, and we will be returning to London with her. Do I make myself clear?”

The man seemed ruthless. Especially standing up to one with Dominique’s reputation. With an amused chuckle and most likely an insane wish to be shot, Dominique said, “No, you do not make yourself clear. Perhaps you should speak louder.”

Montmouth's face turned red with rage, he reached into his jacket pocket. But Dominique was quicker. With little effort he rendered the giant harmless by cracking his wrist. The pistol dropped to the floor, and he kicked it to Hunter who immediately made quick work of unloading it of its contents.

“Now, you have barged into my home, put your wife and her two sisters in danger, as well as the life of my unborn child…” He knew it was possible, though quite unlikely that Isabelle carried his heir, but he hoped Montmouth didn’t see the fib, nor the trembling of Dominique’s own voice at the thought. “All based on a letter that should have never been sent to you in the first place.” Dominique used all his strength to push Montmouth down into a nearby chair and loomed over him. “Now, allow me to take myself clear. I love Isabelle. I have been to Hell and back in order to have her, and will not let some self-righteous duke trounce into my home and demand that the only woman I have ever loved return with him. You will have to kill me to get to her, and if her choice is to go with you, I beg you to kill me anyway, for I cannot imagine taking a breath without her by my side.”

The room fell silent.

Montmouth’s breathing slowed and then a grin broke out on his face. “Good work, man! I knew you had it in you! See, Isabelle, I told you it was a misunderstanding. Women, you can’t truly believe a word that comes out of their mouths.” Rosalind slapped him playfully on the arm.

Hunter swore a string of expletives and kicked the wall with his boot.

Exhausted and in utter shock, Dominique merely stared at the duke, slack jawed.

“Come now!” Montmouth rose to his feet and pulled him into a tight embrace. “It seems we have a wedding to celebrate!”

Dumbstruck, it took a few seconds for what had just transpired and when it hit him, he was ready to pummel the man. “You smug son of a—”

“Easy…” Montmouth paused and looked Dominique straight in the eyes. “I know when a man is tortured, the haunting look in his eyes when he thinks he’s lost what’s most important to him. It was like looking in a mirror.” Montmouth shook his head. “Now, let us adjourn elsewhere so the ladies can catch up. It seems they’ve all had adventures to last a lifetime.”

Dominique nodded slowly and turned to look at Isabelle, tears were streaming down her face. She gave him a weak smile and nodded. He took that as a good sign, the only sign she could give him amidst the chatter.