Page 76 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Louisa woke up to darkness. For a moment, she wondered if she had drifted off and was just now waking up when it was dark. But the room was too drafty to be her room, and her position was quite an awkward way to fall asleep.

Her head felt a little heavy and woozy, as if she had indulged in spirits, but she wasn’t one to drink, so that was unlikely. Her neck felt sore like it had been hanging at an odd angle. Perhaps it was because of the way she had slept. Even now, she still felt sleepy, not totally in touch with reality, like she was watching her surroundings in a strange, muted, dream-like sequence.

Trying to lift her hand to rub her face in an attempt to clear her vision, she felt a tug on her wrists, restricting her movements. She tried to stretch her legs only to feel a burning sensation in her ankles, just like in her wrists, as the rope bit into her skin.

That only meant that her feet and hands were tied to a chair as if she were a criminal.

All this brought her to the conclusion that she was kidnapped.

Heart hammering, she searched the room frantically. At first, she could make nothing out in the inky darkness, but as her eyes slowly adjusted, she realized several things.

First, the room she was in was definitely not her chambers back in Colborne House. This room was wide and had a dusty smell reminiscent of a room that had been abandoned for so long.

Her guess was that she was in a warehouse.

The light slipping beneath the edge of the door told her that it was daylight, and with how quiet her surroundings were, she guessed that she was being held hostage somewhere in the woods.

Slowly, her memories returned to her in fragments. The last thing she remembered, she had headed into the library to retrieve a book she had been reading for some time. She remembered sitting down to read her most recent book when she was distracted by the sound of shuffling feet.

She had risen to investigate the source of the sound. She traced it to the shelves, and when she rounded the corner of the shelves, she was shocked to see a tall man standing there. Before she could open her mouth to shout, a strong hand grabbed her, trapping her between his hard body and the wall, while he pressed a slightly damp cloth over her nose and her mouth so she had to struggle between trying to breathe and screaming for help.

She remembered feeling suffocated while whatever the man had soaked the cloth with invaded her nostrils, weakening her limbs until all she knew was darkness and she woke up in this strange, dark room.

She wondered if Percival was looking for her at this moment. How worried he might be when he discovered that she was nowhere to be found. She had not seen any sign of him early in the morning, and she had concluded that he had gone on a morning ride. The absence of his horse when she visited the stables proved her right.

If her guess was correct, it would take a while for him and the servants to discover that she was missing, especially since she had informed Anne of her plan to devour her new book while enjoying a quiet moment in the library.

The subtle implication that she didn’t want to be disturbed was enough to make the servants reluctant to check on her. She wondered even now if they already knew that she was missing. Even if they did, it might have been late, hours after she had been carted away by her kidnapper.

A sound outside the door jolted her out of her thoughts, forcing her to look up. The sound came again, sounding distinctly like footsteps. Instantly, her hopes soared. The presence of another human being was a good development if she made adequate use of it.

“Help!” she screamed. “Please, help me!”

Her throat protested the strain, especially since it felt like she had swallowed sand. It felt dry and scratchy. She needed water, but that need fell second to her need for freedom.

Just as she drew breath to scream for help again, she heard the bolt on the door groan as it was pulled back.

The door opened, and someone stepped in, the sunlight illuminating their frame while hiding their features.

“Well, Your Grace,” the familiar voice drawled, smug amusement carrying to her on the breeze. “Here we meet again.”

“Where do you think you are going?” Duncan asked Percival in surprise when the other man stopped mid-pace and bolted out of the study, his face the picture of determination.

“To find my wife,” Percy replied grimly, not breaking his stride.

“Do you know where she is?” Duncan asked, hurrying after him as he rounded the corner and flew down the stairs.

“No, I do not, but I certainly will not get a clue while attempting to wear a hole in your carpet. I will search the entirety of London if need be. I must find her somehow. The longer I stand here, debating options with you, the longer she is in danger. I appreciate your help, Fangsdale, but I must now search for my wife by myself.”

As they approached the front door, and just before he pushed it open, Percival turned back to Duncan, his eyes burning with feverish intensity. “I have to find my wife. I would welcome your help. Otherwise, I have no qualms about going alone.”

Without bothering to wait for a response, he pushed the door open and hurried down the stairs. But he skidded to a halt when a coach rolled to a stop in front of the house and a clocked figure darted out, hurrying towards the stairs.

Upon closer inspection, he recognized the person as his wife’s youngest sister, the fiery Diana. She had pulled off the hood of her cloak mid-run, allowing her dark tresses to flutter in the wind.

“Diana,” Duncan said when she stopped before them. “What are you doing here?”

“Lou… Lou has been kidnapped,” Diana said between pants as she tried to catch her breath following her short sprint up the front steps.

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