Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(17)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov

Dominique winced. “What the devil?”

“Ah, so you hear it too then. I was wondering how long it would take for you to catch on to the little lady bird.” Hunter smiled and folded his broad arms behind his head as if readying himself for sleep.

How was the man even closing his eyes at such a time?

“Hunter? What the blazes is that noise?”

“Your lady bird.”

Dominique paced in front of him. “Do you truly think that pet name fits at this point in time?”

On cue another ear splitting noise broke into the room. Apparently the lady bird had discovered a new note that hadn’t yet been sung. Brave of her.

“I believe,” Hunter kept his eyes closed, “That she was trying to reach for a high C?”

“I believe,” Dominique mocked with a curse, “that she was trying to kill us off. That blasted noise has been waking me from sleep every single night this week! I thought it was—”

Hunter opened one eye. “A badger in heat?”

Dominique forced himself not to smile. “Yes, well, apparently I was wrong.”

The shrill voice continued to try at higher notes until Dominique was sure he was going to have an apoplexy.

And then an expensive vase, one purchased by his mother in France, chose the opportune time to shake and fall to the floor.

“Did you know?” Hunter slapped his knee and laughed. “I thought that only happened in books and plays! But her voice truly just made a vase commit suicide. Pity. It was such a beautiful vase.”

“Family heirloom.” Dominique grumbled, looking at the glass shards on the marble floor. “At any rate, we simply cannot have her continue to sing like this. My entire staff will quit!”

“Oh they’d never do that.” Hunter sobered. “They’re in love, every last one of them. Lucky sods, just yesterday I saw the groom nearly fall prostrate in front of the woman.”

“What the devil did she do? Offer him his weight in gold?” Dominique cursed and took a seat next to his nosy friend.

Hunter grinned wolfishly. “No, dear friend, she smiled, and I believe she said ‘thank you’. Though I couldn’t be sure, you asked me to spy and make sure she was comfortable and adjusting to castle life, not make myself known as to her exact wording in every conversation. Say, would you prefer I take notes? I imagine it would be in my best interest to follow her around and write down every beautiful word flowing from her mouth.”

The voice heightened.

“Care to retract that last statement, friend?” Dominique smiled this time and then covered his face with his hands. He hadn’t slept in days. Make that weeks! The woman was impossible!

“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.”