Page 1 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Chapter One

“Iheard that this Season is starting off on an interesting note,” Isabella, Louisa’s twin sister, said, smiling as if she knew a secret they would be desperate to hear.

Everyone present sat up, including Benedict, the Duke of Northwick and Selina’s husband, and Duncan, the Duke of Fangsdale and Isabella’s husband, as they waited for the news.

Louisa, despite her usual disinterest, also sat up, wondering if perhaps there was news that would finally remove her name from the top of the rumour mills.

Even though two years had passed since she had been injured while trying to save her sister’s life, the story was still the most talked about, made even worse by the scar sitting proudly on her face. Even the peculiar entertainments at Isabella and Duncan’s lavish wedding party had not been enough to quell the rumours.

“I hear that the Duke of Colborne has returned,” Isabella intoned.

“Isn’t he the one who died a month ago?” Diana, their youngest sister, asked.

They had even attended the funeral, as the deceased Duke had no family except his friend, the Baron Gillingham, who had extended the invitation to Benedict and Duncan as fellow members of the peerage.

“That was Michael, the former Duke,” Benedict clarified. “You must be referring to Percival, then. I didn’t know he had returned.”

“Well, he has, and he apparently has to assume the title as the only heir,” Isabella said with a bright smile.

“Where did you hear this news, Isabella?” Diana asked excited.

“Lady Peregrine told me during tea yesterday,” Isabella answered. “I heard a lot of things about the Duke, and they are not very pleasant.”

“If they aren’t pleasant, then we shouldn’t talk about them,” Louisa said, even though her words lacked heat.

“Oh Louisa, you’re always so dull.” Isabella tsked. “It might interest you to know that he returned from missions overseas. He is a soldier, you see, and I hear he has many battle scars.”

Louisa couldn’t help the way her eyebrows shot up at the word ‘scars.’ It had been two years since she had acquired hers, and even though they weren’t horrid, they still stood proudly against her features and had earned her more than a few uncomfortable looks whenever any member of the ton deigned to talk to her. She had not been entirely wrong in her estimation of their vanity.

“They call him ‘the Beast’ because apparently, his scars are so grotesque that he has hidden himself away in his chambers,” Isabella continued. “A few of his maids had to quit because they couldn’t bear to look at him and because he had, apparently, nearly destroyed the manor when he had returned.”

“That is not a very nice moniker,” Selina muttered, hiding her frown behind her fan. “Even if he’s scarred and a little angry, there is no need to call him that.”

“I didn’t give him the moniker,” Isabella sniffed, showing her displeasure at being scolded. “Besides, if he doesn’t want the moniker, he shouldn’t hide away from Society. He hasn’t accepted any invitations to tea or even accepted any callers. He behaves like the fairytale creature after which he was named.”

“Do you not think that perhaps he keeps to himself because of the judgment he might receive from the ton?” Louisa argued.

“What judgment, Louisa?” Isabella asked.

“The judgment I receive every time I walk into a ballroom.”

“You’re being positively grim,” Isabella sniffed. “Do not ruin the mood this morning.”

But the damage was already done. Her mother and sisters—except Isabella, of course—looked positively apologetic, but she looked away. Louisa was used to the pitying looks she received from the members of the ton, but that didn’t mean they didn’t annoy her. She disliked their vanity and the way they were so quick to point fingers and make someone an outcast just because they had physical impairments.

If she had her way, she too would have chosen to hide away in their country estate rather than return to face the revulsion and pity of the ton.

She would have apologized for her mood, but their butler’s arrival put an end to their discussion and reminded them of the purpose of their gathering. They had been waiting for callers for either Louisa or Diana—the sisters yet to wed.

“A caller for Miss Louisa,” the butler announced, breaking the tension in the room.

They all sat up, and Lady Langham motioned for Louisa to fix her face, which she did even though she was in a surly mood.

“Who is it?” Lady Langham asked.

“Owen Dowding, the Viscount Pemberton,” the butler answered.

The sisters tittered and gave Louisa conspiratorial smiles.

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