Page 29 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Louisa hadn’t exactly been expecting that, and she knew had she been anyone else, Anne might have lost her job. But she didn’t feel she had anything to hide.

“I got it while trying to save my sister,” she answered.

Anne’s eyes went wide. “Weren’t you scared?” she asked softly.

Louisa paused, unsure how to answer that question. No one had thought to ask her anything, not even her family. It felt… cathartic to finally talk about it without someone pitying her.

“I was, but when my sister was in danger, I didn’t have time to think,” she answered with a nod. “I will do anything for my family.”

Anne’s eyes shone with admiration. “Your sister is lucky to have you, Your Grace.”

Tears formed at the corners of Louisa’s eyes, but she blinked them away and smiled at the maid, who suddenly looked worried.

“I think it’s time we went down for dinner,” she announced, changing the topic. She could feel the weight of Anne’s relief behind her. “I should hope that Cook has dinner ready by now.”

“You look absolutely magnificent, Your Grace,” Anne complimented. “His Grace will be unable to tear his eyes away from you tonight.”

That is assuming he joins me for dinner.

Sure enough, when Louisa stepped into the dining room, her husband was nowhere to be seen. Lowering herself into one of the seats, she set about eating dinner, nibbling slowly on her food. But it tasted like sawdust in her mouth while she waited for him to arrive. An hour passed, then another, and she had to tellherself the truth—Percival was definitely not coming down for dinner. It seemed that the dratted man would risk starvation just to avoid her.

Eventually, she rose from the table and fled to her room. Anne must have seen the look on her face, for she had quietly helped her out of her dress and helped her into her shift before swiftly leaving the room.

Louisa lay in bed for a long time, listening for any sounds that might indicate that her husband would come to her chambers, that he might help relieve some of the loneliness in her heart.

As her eyes fluttered shut, she wondered for the umpteenth time if she was so ugly that her own husband would avoid her so keenly.

Chapter Nine

Percival was not at the breakfast table. It seemed that he was about to turn it into a habit, content to starve to death just to avoid her. While she knew that her scar might have detracted from her beauty, she did not think she was hideous enough for him to decide to starve himself to death. And they hadn’t exactly started on a good note, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t move past a little argument.

The constant wondering and guessing was feeding insecurities that she would have sworn were laid to rest, but then Percival had always been able to affect her mood beyond her control.

Despite the lonely dinner the previous night, she had still woken up thinking that she might have misunderstood his absence and that he might join her for breakfast.

Now that she was sitting alone at the breakfast table, she felt stupid for taking her time this morning with her toilette, hoping to impress a man who obviously did not care for her.

“Splendid morning, Your Grace,” Mrs. Owens greeted with a bright smile as she bustled into the room.

Louisa immediately felt irrational resentment towards the woman rising within her. How could the housekeeper be bright and happy while she was in a funk?

“I hope you had a splendid night?” Mrs. Owens asked, pouring water into the cup beside Louisa’s buttered toast.

“It was splendid, indeed,” Louisa answered flatly, swallowing her resentment.

At her tone, Mrs. Owens turned sharply towards her, studying her with a curious expression on her face. Of course, she would have guessed that something was wrong, because even she knew that a happy bride would never be that snappish the morning after her wedding night if everything went well and as expected.

Whatever Mrs. Owens saw on her face, she must have decided to keep it to herself because she quickly plastered on a bright smile.

“The farmers brought in some fresh milk this morning. Perhaps you might want some?” she asked.

“No, thank you. I would make do with water.”

“All right, Your Grace. Do inform me if you need anything—anything at all,” Mrs. Owens offered, before walking away.

It was ridiculous, but Louisa felt as if the woman was taking her hard-worn bout of positivity with her as she crossed the room.

“I do require something,” Louisa heard herself say, stopping the older woman in her tracks.

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