Chapter Eight
Suspicious Dreams
The nights grew chillier at Darkbrook as the summer drew to a close but Desmond barely noticed the change. Isadora now warmed his bed, her lithe body pressed to him as he learned to sleep dreamlessly and not prowl the halls of the estate restlessly.
They fit together seamlessly, it seemed, and he was astounded that his father had managed to find such a good fit for him.
If he ever responds to my letters, I will thank him for finding me such a decent wife, even if she is a mortal.
He had yet to receive word from George Waters, despite the many attempts he had made to reach him, although Isaac did claim to have received one letter.
“He has been traveling,” the barrister explained. “He assures me he will be in contact with you when he returns from the Orient. He also mentioned the potential of coming here himself.”
“Here? To New York?” Desmond demanded, shocked that his father would consider it. George had never been quiet about his disdain of the colonies.
“So he says,” Isaac replied. It seemed to Desmond that even Isaac seemed less offensive to him those days.
Isadora is bringing out the best in me, he realized, and the thought only filled him with more love for his wife.
As she slept, he studied her face with affection as her chest rose softly. She seemed an angel to him, her shroud of hair glowing against the light of the moon. It was nearing a full moon but strangely, Desmond had little desire to hunt, the urge not overwhelming him as it tended to do when the calendar closed in around those days. He only longed to spend his days with Isadora, who seemed equally content at his side.
She had begun a charity in the name of the Waters Foundation, collecting from the neighbors and friends, even hosting a benefit at Darkbrook which brought more funds than she had expected. She had found her calling, it seemed, helping people, but Desmond could not seem to alleviate the sadness she possessed and which lurked behind her dark eyes.
Whenever he tried to speak to her about her past, she was evasive, causing him wariness which he forced himself to dismiss. The feeling that he had in her presence was unlike any he had ever known and he did not want his inherent suspicion to ruin the love he had found with Isadora.
The only matter which Desmond still found unsettling was that of Milo who seemed, if possible, nearer than before. No matter what he did to shake the man, the butler was everywhere at once.
Except here.
His bedchambers proved to be a sanctuary for them in more ways than one.
Isadora stirred in her sleep, her mouth parting to allow for a low moan to escape.
“No… Milo…” she breathed and Desmond tensed at the sound of the butler’s name. Why on God’s earth would she be dreaming about the man?
He waited, his back tense as he continued to study her features in the pale light making its way in from the heavens.
“Please… I will do as you ask…” she pleaded in her slumber. “You must not… you must not…”
Her voice faded away and Desmond considered waking her but something held him back from doing so.
Has Milo been bothering her when I am away on business?
He had traveled to New York City twice in the past months, investigating new real estate dealings in the booming city, and upon his return, Isadora had made no mention of any irregularities, but that did not mean she was keeping it secret.
I must investigate this matter, he thought grimly and was unable to return to sleep himself for the remainder of the night. He was up when Isadora woke, her beautiful face sleepy as she blinked at him.
“Good morning,” she murmured. “You are up quite early.”
“How did you sleep, my love?” Desmond asked, rising from the winged chair in which he sat, overlooking her protectively. She had not had another nightmare, at least not one which he could detect.
“Well, darling, as always,” she replied, smiling warmly. “You did not?”
“You had a troubling dream,” he told her bluntly. “Do you recall?”
A shadow covered her face and Isadora darted her eyes away, shaking her head in denial.
“I do not,” she mumbled. “Forgive me for keeping you awake.”
“You did not.”
He continued to watch her as she purposely avoided his eyes and began to chatter somewhat nervously.
“I have quite a busy day of doing the books,” she told him as though to fill the room with noise. “Have you any books I should look at while I work on the charity today?”
She had recently begun doing his bookkeeping, her knack for numbers astounding him at first, but money was the last issue on his mind in that moment.
“Isadora, do look at me.”
She turned, albeit reluctantly, and offered him a nervous smile. “Yes?”
“Have you been troubled about something? Has someone been bothering you?”
Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly. “I-I do not know what you mean,” she mumbled but he could plainly see the lie in her expression.
“Isadora, my love, I am your husband and your protector. I will not allow anything to happen to you but you must be frank with me. Is there something you are not telling me?”
If possible, her eyes grew larger, the fear nearly palpable, but she shook her head again, visibly swallowing whatever rose to her throat.
She will not confess to this. I will need to learn the truth on my own.
“You must not fear anything while you live under my roof,” he told her softly, drawing her into his arms. “You must trust that I can protect you. Do you?”
She nodded quickly but would not meet his gaze and he bristled with anger. Whoever had scared her would certainly pay the price for such a violation. A small part of him hoped it was Milo for he had been seeking a reason to rid the household of the nosy butler for months now. It would be his pleasure to find a punishment for the servant.
“All right,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. A knock on the door announced the arrival of Bridget, who hurried to help Isadora dress for the day. A moment later, Milo appeared but Desmond immediately dismissed him.
“I will not be needing you today, Milo,” Desmond told him firmly. “You may tend to Isaac if you require someone to trail.”
He did not miss the look of indignation on Milo’s face but when Desmond met his eyes, he balked slightly.
“As you wish, Mr. Waters. If you should change your mind—”
“I will not and I certainly do not need your permission to do so.”
Milo cast Isadora a long look which was indecipherable to Desmond but it ignited a fury in him.
“How dare you look at my wife in her state of undress?” he raged. “Out with you!”
Milo did not respond but moved quickly from the room, leaving Isadora to gape at him in shock.
“Desmond, what was the meaning of that uncalled-for anger?”
“I do not much like him,” Desmond replied firmly. “And I do not particularly care for the way he moves about so freely in this house.”
He stared at his wife pointedly, waiting for her to dispute his assessment, but she did not. She turned back to the glass and waited as Bridget secured her corset, unspeaking.
“Have you any opinion on the matter?” Desmond insisted when he was met with silence. “What is your take on the man?”
“I do not know him,” Isadora replied quickly. “I haven’t any take.”
It was then that Desmond noticed how Bridget eyed his wife and a shiver of apprehension fluttered through his body.
“Is there something I do not know?” he demanded again. “I will not stand for there to be secrets under my roof!”
“There is nothing!” Isadora insisted but the look on her face told him much differently.
Desmond stifled a grunt of frustration and spun to leave the women alone. “I will meet you in the dining room.”
“Your tea awaits, Mr. Waters,” Bridget offered tentatively but Desmond was barely listening. He suspected that Bridget might know more about what was happening inside Darkbrook than he, and he waited in the hall for the servant to retreat.
“Oh!” she murmured when she saw him lurking in the shadows. “I was not expecting you there, Mr. Waters.”
“What do you know of our new butler, Bridget?”
She blinked, slightly confused by the question. “Nothing, sir. I have only made his acquaintance when he arrived, what, six weeks ago now.”
“Yet you looked at my wife in a peculiar way when I spoke about him. Why is that?”
She paused, clearly taken aback by the question, and bit on her lower lip before responding. “I did discuss this with Mrs. Waters already,” she sighed. “She claims that she does not know Milo from her past but I cannot help but feel he watches her in a too-familiar fashion.”
“How is that?”
“He stares at her with too much interest and I daresay I have seen them speaking at odd hours. That was before you and she… well, before you began sharing a bedchamber.”
Desmond stared at her in confusion. “Speaking how?”
“I did not hear the words exchanged, Mr. Waters, but I did feel that Milo was less than forthcoming about his intentions here.”
“Why did you not approach me with your suspicions?” Desmond demanded angrily. “I am the master of this house and I continue to be treated with disrespect. I will not stand for it!”
“Forgive me, sir, but it was nothing more than a feeling, you understand. I dared not approach you with a simple sense that something was amiss. And as I said, I have not seen them interacting since you have grown so close with Mrs. Waters.”
Desmond could only stare at her, unsure of what else might be said to get the answers he felt so close to finding.
“You are dismissed, Bridget. Of course, there is no reason for anyone to know of this conversation.”
“Of course, Mr. Waters.”
She hurried away before he could think of another thing to say, leaving Desmond perplexed in his thoughts. Unexpectedly, Isaac’s words came flooding into his ears.
“Perhaps you are not entirely prepared for the trials of being alpha.”
The statement echoed through his mind.
He is not without merit. If I cannot understand what is happening in my own home, how can I be meant to lead a pack?
With renewed determination, Desmond pushed his way back into the bedchambers, surprising Isadora, who was about to leave.
“Have you a history with Milo?” he asked pointedly, noting the look of worry on her face. “I will not have you lie to me, Isadora.”
She did not respond but her lower lip quivered slightly as she stared at him.
“Answer me!” he insisted but she shook her head, pointing silently at the still-ajar door. Slowly, he turned to look at his back and saw Milo in the hall. His blood ran cold as he wondered how much the butler had heard of his conversation with Bridget.
“What are you doing here?” Desmond demanded but as he yelled at Milo, Isadora brushed past him and disappeared into the house before he could stop her.
“I thought you called for me, sir.”
Desmond’s eyes narrowed and he glared at the butler.
“You know I did no such thing!” he barked. “I will not have you lurking about like some thief. Off with you now!”
“As you wish, sir.”
He was gone but Desmond did not stand still—he wanted to know where Milo went and if his hunch was correct.