Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(52)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Perhaps now would not be the best time to tell her husband that his worst nightmare had come true. For she was carrying his heir. She had decided to hide it from him in hopes that he would learn to accept the truth, that he would never be the man his father was, he would be the best father, always laughing and joyful.

But now, now she wanted to throw the information in his face, to hurt him as he hurt her.

Gathering courage, she left the room and made the few short steps to the salon. Upon opening the doors, however, she felt her world begin to tilt, for sitting near the fire were her sisters, Rosalind and Gwendolyn, and Montmouth. The last thing she remembered seeing was the concern in Rosalind’s eyes as her knees gave way and her eyes succumbed to the blackness.

Chapter Thirty-one

Can a wrong be righted? Will truth truly set you free? Or will lies and mistakes threaten to overtake the happiness you once saw within your reach? I wonder this and so much more. Is it only when you’ve loved everything that you truly understand what it means to love? For I have nothing left, yet my heart still beats for her. It will beat always for her.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov

The walk around the castle hadn’t done Dominique any good, he was just as agitated if not more by the time he returned to the front of the castle. Matters worsened when he noted the carriages out front and the blazing crest on every one of them.

Montmouth.

Dominique truly didn’t have God on his side, for the one thing he wished would not happen had come true. Now, Isabelle would know, and she would hate him, for who would she believe? The beast he once was? Or the man he had become?

Muttering an oath, he took the steps two at a time and entered into the house, only to find Hunter pacing outside the salon as if someone had died.

“What the devil are you doing?” Dominique all but yelled.

Hunter did not still, nor did he respond, merely cursed and closed his eyes.

Dominique took that as an invitation to shake him.

Which he did.

Hunter just cursed again.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Dominique jerked his friend away from the door. “Now tell me what is going on?”

“If you don’t mind,” Hunter seethed, “I’d like to continue my pacing, it makes me feel deuced better about the fact that the chit I rescued is on the other side of that door and my cover could be completely blown at any second!”

Realization dawned. Despite his foul mood Dominique laughed. “The chit you are referring to, would it be Gwen? Isabelle sister?”

Hunter paled.

“You little liar.” Dominique crossed his arms. “So when I was in bed from a gunshot wound and you flew into the room with stories of being accosted by a woman who smelled of eggs and meat—”

Hunter slapped his hand across Dominique’s mouth. “Do not remind me of that particular woman. This is not she, believe me.” His eyes took on a lusty haze. “This is not she,” he all but whispered. “I discovered her on my way back through the village, to take care of your sorry a—” He stopped himself and shuddered. “At any rate, she was alone, can you believe it? An English miss alone in the countryside asking questions!”

“Yes well,” Dominique removed Hunter’s hand. “I do believe women tend to do that when they are lost and searching for answers.”

“She was gaining too much attention,” Hunter muttered. “So I rescued her.”

“Did she see it as a rescue or a capture?” Dominique asked, intrigued.

“I saved her life!”

Truly, Dominique had to fight to keep his expression indifferent. “Are they erecting a statue in your honor? Or perhaps giving you some sort of medal?”

“She doesn’t know who I am, only that I work for the crown.” Hunter ignored Dominique’s teasing barbs. “And she cannot tell her family of my help in the matter.”

“Why ever not? I believe they would be thankful! Joyous! That is unless you took advantage of a single woman, all alone in the woods, with nothing but the dress on her back and—” Dominique stopped talking as Hunter lost color in his face. Quite a feat considering he looked like a ghost already.

“Do not speak of it.”

Dominique blanched. “Did you compromise her?”

“I did it for God and Country?” Hunter said it as more of a question as he broke his gaze away and stared at the floor.

“Yes well, be sure to say that when the duke murders your sorry excuse for an a—”

The doors opened swiftly, interrupting Dominique’s speech.

Montmouth stood, arms crossed, looking every inch the formidable foe Dominique had remembered him being. He suddenly had a distasteful vision of the man ripping his limbs off, laughing all the while Isabelle watched.

Well, he would always have those few weeks of happy memories before he met his demise. And here we go.

“Montmouth, didn’t expect to see you here,” he rasped, casting a quick nervous glance at Isabelle.

Anger rolled off her. Face pale and hands on hips, she sent him a murderous glare.

Dominique cringed. She knew.

“Did you not send for me?” Montmouth asked, clearly agitated as he paced in front of him.

“I did, but that was over a month ago, before the accident.” He hoped that his emphasis on the word clued Isabelle in. He dared not look at her, lest he break down in front of a room of strangers. The infamous beast, felt like a broken man, a wounded puppy, and once again full of fear.

“Yes well, you can imagine it took a while for word to reach us, though it just so happened that Gwen nearly beat us here, imagine that.”

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.”