Page 3 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

“On the contrary, My Lord, I do have another suitor, and we are already courting,” she declared, returning his glare. “I hoped to keep it a secret for as long as I could, but I see no need to now.”

He laughed and then shot her a disbelieving look. “Oblige me, dear.” He smiled. “Who is this gentleman you speak of?”

She tried not to worry her lip even as the ridiculousness of what she was about to say hit her.

“The Duke of Colborne.”

She would have appreciated a gasp or at least a look of surprise, but his mocking laugh annoyed her to no end.

“Surely you jest,” he said, laughing. “I understand you are afraid to marry, but you do not have to make such ridiculous claims. If you need more time, you only have to ask.”

“I do not jest, My Lord,” she insisted, folding her arms.

“You’re courting the Beast?” His tone was incredulous, and she hated him for it.

“Do not call him that!” she hissed.

She hadn’t meant to be so rude, but she was tired of their erroneous judgment of the Duke.

“He is not a beast. Not in any way,” she added, managing to take the heat out of her words. “He has only been busy putting his estate in order and familiarizing himself with his new responsibilities.”

Lord Pemberton gave her a scalding look, but there was still a glint of mockery in his eyes.

“I do not believe you, my dear,” he said. “How could you possibly be courting him when he has only just returned?”

“I have known him since I was a child,” she answered, lifting her chin. “Perhaps I might ask him to be present at the next ball in my letter to him this eve.”

His eyes glinted with delight, and she wondered if perhaps she had taken her ruse too far.

“Is that so?” he drawled, grinning maliciously. “You do not have to wait that long to write to him. His estate is not a great distance from mine. I could help you deliver your letter as I return home.”

Louisa tried not to let her panic show and schooled her features to indifference. “You do not have to do that, My Lord. I could?—”

“Nonsense.” Lord Pemberton smiled. “I will consider it doing a friend a favour.”

Louisa knew that if she continued to refuse, her lie would unravel, so she nodded instead, surprising him.

“I will only be a moment then,” she told him.

She saw her mother glare at her, but she ignored her, and once inside, she went up to her room—but not before snatching one of the scented papers Isabella had abandoned since she got married and moved into her husband’s estate.

Penning a letter that would show how comfortable she was with the Duke was not hard at all, but she wondered if perhaps she was overdoing it. Reminding herself that Lord Pemberton would no doubt read it gave her the confidence to lightly seal it.

When she descended to hand him the letter, she saw her mother’s barely concealed glare as well as the near-laughing faces of her sisters, and knew she would be answering for her ruse as soon as he left.

“I must thank you again, My Lord,” she said, handing him the letter. “You truly are too kind.”

“Think nothing of it.” He smiled. “I shall see you at the Franworths’ ball, then.”

Lord Pemberton bid her family a good day and left, no doubt hurrying to the privacy of his carriage so he could read the letter.

“Louisa Amelia Gouldsmith,” Lady Langham screeched as soon as he had left. “Why would you let such a good opportunity slip through your fingers? You know how hard it has been for me to secure a match for you.”

“I know how hard you worked, Mother, but I do not want to marry him,” Louisa explained. “He doesn’t like me. He can barely stomach the sight of my scars. I cannot have a husband who hates my face.”

Her mother sighed, but her sisters and their husbands couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’m trying to imagine the Duke’s face when he reads that letter,” Isabella said playfully.

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