Page 28 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Louisa couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped her lips. “I do not doubt it.”

“I should go now before it is too late,” Anne said, hurrying out the door. She was most likely looking forward to an opportunity to talk to her handsome blacksmith’s apprentice.

Grateful for the solitude, Louisa lay down on her new bed. True enough, it was warmer than she had imagined and so soft that she wondered how it had been preserved. Her mind went back to Anne, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

Her marriage might be disappointing, but she was sure of one thing—she was going to enjoy living here with Anne and all the other members of the household. She would make sure of it.

In no time, the young men came up, hauled a big bathtub into her room, and fashioned a bathing corner of some sort, before filling the tub with steaming hot water. All the while, Anne stood at the side of the room, admiring the one with dark hair and eyes—he must be Lawrence. It was so amusing that Louisa wondered how she managed not to laugh.

She did not blame Anne in the slightest. Her beau was handsome, and if she weren’t a nobleman’s daughter, she too might have been enthralled by them.

It seemed Lawrence was also enchanted by Anne, for his eyes kept following her even as she pretended to be busy. When their eyes met, they both flushed.

Louisa smiled at their display of affection and wondered if she would ever experience anything as sweet with Percival. It washard to imagine him staring at her with anything other than that cold look in his eyes, but annoyingly, she didn’t mind it.

Probably, she had come to prefer his cold look over Lord Pemberton’s wincing and grimacing.

When the men were done filling the bathtub, they left, allowing her to shed her clothes and step into the steaming water. Anne had been an angel to suggest that she bathe, and she would definitely reward her for it. Perhaps she would give her a day off to sneak out to see a certain someone.

When she sank fully to the bottom of the bathtub, Louisa let out a long sigh of pleasure and relief, enjoying the feel of the almost too-hot water on her skin and the way it relaxed her muscles till she felt boneless, content to just float in the tub. There were very few pleasures she enjoyed, and a hot bath was one of them.

Anne returned later to help wash her hair and rinse out the soap suds on her skin with the extra bucket of water the young men had left beside the bathtub, before drying her body with a towel.

When Louisa stepped back into the room, she found that Anne had laid out not two but three dresses for her to choose from for dinner. It was obvious that Anne took her duties as lady’s maid very seriously, and Louisa was glad for it.

“Your Grace, I think any one of these dresses will be mighty fine for dinner. What do you think?” Anne asked, wringing her hands anxiously.

“I think they are great. Let’s go with the blue dress, shall we?” Louisa replied with a smile.

“Excellent choice, Your Grace!” Anne exclaimed, clapping her hands together and beaming with excitement. Then, she helped Louisa into her dress and arranged her hair in artful curls around her face, softening her features.

As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Louisa concluded that Mrs. Owens was right about one thing—Anne really had a good eye for the latest fashions. She was a gem, and Louisa felt lucky to have her.

“Where did you learn to style hair, Anne?” she asked, touching her hair.

“Do you like it, Your Grace?” Anne asked shyly. “My mother was lady’s maid to His Grace’s mother, so she taught me.”

“You are magnificent, Anne,” Louisa praised. “Truly.”

Anne beamed with pride and then eyed her mistress’s face, biting her lip. “Perhaps I might apply some powder to hide the scar?” she asked tentatively.

Louisa recognized the tone—it was the tone that everyone she met used when making comments about her scar, as if they were afraid she would descend into hysteria because they had drawn attention to the tragedy that had caused the permanent mark.

“I don’t need to hide the scar,” she said, turning to flash the girl a reassuring smile. She was relieved to see the answering smile that lit up her face.

“All right, Your Grace,” Anne murmured, but she was still biting her lip.

“What is it, Anne?” Louisa prompted. “Is anything the matter?”

“I have a question, but I don’t think it’s proper to ask it.”

“I should be the judge of that, shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t want you to get angry with me.”

“I will not be angry with you, I promise.”

Anne heaved a sigh and nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble, I wanted to know how you got the scar.”

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