Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(65)

Hunter led the way, a scowl on his face. Montmouth turned to Dominique. “Speaking of a man haunted, what the devil is wrong with your friend? It looks as if he’s seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost… a memory.” Dominique left it at that and went into the study where he kept his best whiskey. There would be time enough to talk to Isabelle after dinner. And he would make certain she knew where his loyalty lay.





Chapter Thirty-two


I refuse to be him, therefore I won’t be. I make a choice to be better, stronger, more loving. To be a true father.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov



Once she had awoken from fainting, Stefan had demanded she tell him what was wrong. Was she held here by her own free will? Had she been harmed? Where was her husband? Truly it had all been too much.

She lost all control.

And in true feminine fashion, burst into tears. Never before had she been such a watering pot. She told them everything. Nothing was sacred, well, except for the stolen moments with Dominique.

To his credit, Stefan listened intently while Rosalind patted her hand and Gwendolyn held her in her arms whispering into her hair.

She loved him, and she told them as much, but also explained that she had just discovered an incriminating letter.

Heartbroken, she continued to sob, until with a laugh Stefan jumped to his feet. “Well, this is perfect!”

Rosalind glared.

Gwen gasped.

And Isabelle whimpered.

“Hear me out!” Stefan clapped his hands. “All men need is a little push, and it seems the earl is at the brink of insanity!”

“Please explain yourself, husband, before you find yourself sleeping in the stables.” Rosalind seethed.

Stefan ignored her angry comment and continued, “I’ll threaten to take the thing he values most in life.”

“His music?” Isabelle offered.

Stefan knelt in front of her, “No, my dear. The other half of his soul. You.”

Well, Isabelle hadn’t known what to say then, not that it mattered because as soon as the words left Stefan’s mouth, low voices were heard outside the doors to the salon.

Stefan marched right over to the doors and threw them open revealing a pale-looking Hunter and irritated Dominique.

She was unable to meet his gaze, ashamed for believing the worst of him, but most of all, still doubtful of his affection. Isabelle was so used to his rejection, to his excuses, his justifications that no matter how much attention he paid her these past few weeks, she still feared the worst.

Dominique began his speech, defending himself. She didn’t want to listen, wanted to stay in her miserable state. That is, until she heard him say that he sent the letter before the accident.

Before he was bed-ridden.

Before he reached for her.

And before he promised to hold and keep her heart forever.

She meant to put a stop to all the nonsense. Stefan truly should have made a go of it with the theater. He was yelling and threatening as if he was truly intent on causing physical harm, and just when she thought Dominique would hang his head and allow her to go with them, he rallied.

And in that moment, stole her heart all over again.

He loved her.

She smiled at the memory and touched her hand to her chest, surely she was dreaming! She hadn’t realized she had an audience until she looked up at both her sisters. Each of them had their heads tilted, merriment twinkling in her eyes.

Isabelle cleared her throat. Drat, they looked at her again, and again she gave back a blank stare. Had they asked her a question?

“My, my, it is worse than I expected,” Gwen mused. “Our dear sister has fallen so hard she has forgotten her own name.”

“That isn’t true.” Isabelle cheeks heated.

“Sure it is.” Gwen winked. “I’ve been repeating your name trying to gain your attention for the past five minutes. And all I received was a sigh.”

“Don’t forget the fluttering of her eyelashes, too,” Rosalind interjected helpfully.

Isabelle glared. “I assure you, I remember my name, I was merely…” Drat, why couldn’t she think of a better excuse than daydreaming about her husband's hands on her body?

“Lusting.”

“Sinning.” Gwen coughed.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at her two sisters and promptly changed the subject. “So, how is mother?”

Apparently that was the one thing that would cause both of her sisters to lose their merriment immediately. Rosalind was the first to answer. “Quite mad. Tried to kill me. It was all very exciting, but that’s another story, dear. All that matters is Stefan and I are enormously happy, and so thankful to have found both of you again.”

“And Gwen, why ever would you run after me alone!”

“Adventure?” she offered.

“Go to the park to find your adventure. Read a book. You do not go gallivanting around Belgium while we are at war!” Isabelle grabbed her sister’s hand and kissed it. “What if something would have happened to you?”

Her sister looked up, her clear blue eyes boring through Isabelle. “And who’s to say something didn’t?”

“Gwen…” Isabelle said in warning.

A blank stare washed over Gwen’s face; she shrugged and gave a tight smile. “I assure you, I am just fine!”