Page 16 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

“Do you care for some ale? They brew a fine batch here,” Eli said, raising his tankard.

“Not yet,” Percival replied, taking a seat across from him. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am. I received your missive. I hope there is nothing amiss?” Eli asked, studying his face carefully.

Percival opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the owner coming to their table, bearing a tray laden with bread and a plate of stew.

“Gud eve’, guv. Ye’re a sight for sore eyes, eh?” Mr. Lewis greeted with a smile that revealed two missing front teeth and several yellowing ones.

“Great to see you too, Mr. Lewis. I’d like to have a more private room for me and my companion.”

“Anything ye want, guv. We got a fine room at the back—very fine,” Mr. Lewis said with a bright smile, leading them past the counter.

He went down the hall, passed two doors, and stopped at the fourth one. He balanced the tray on one arm and fished in his apron for the key. After opening the door, he led them into a smaller room that boasted one trestle table and two rickety wooden chairs that had seen better days.

It was rough, but it met Percival’s requirements—it was private.

“Thank you, Mr. Lewis,” he said, dropping two coins into the owner’s free hand.

“Anything for ye, guv.” Mr. Lewis set down the tray on the table. “Call to me if ye need anything else,” he added with a bright smile, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

This was why Percival liked coming to this tavern. No one knew he was a duke here… Not that anyone would imagine that. There was no one to judge how he ate his food. No one to wonder why he was meeting the Baron Gillingham. No one to wonder at the similarities between his features and those of the man sitting opposite him.

“What secret do you have to tell me that requires such privacy?” Eli asked with a raised eyebrow, taking another sip from his tankard. His eyes flickered with faint amusement.

Percival suspected that his half-brother was fast on his way to getting drunk. As long as he had known him, Eli had always had a fondness for drink, but that vice had worsened in the past year until it seemed like a cup of alcohol was an extension of his arm.

“I am getting married,” Percival announced with a sigh.

He poured himself some ale and downed it in one gulp. When he put his cup down on the table, he noted the surprise on Eli’s face.

“Do close your mouth—flies might get in,” he said dryly.

“You are the one who had sworn vehemently never to marry over the past couple of years, so forgive me if l am a bit surprised,” Eli scoffed, his eyes flashing with an emotion that Percival could not place.

Percival had known Eli for the better part of five years since the day Michael had found the Baroness Gillingham’s letters to their father, mentioning an illegitimate son that she had managed to foist on the old Baron to avoid public disgrace. They could not believe they had another brother, but when they took a good look at Eli, they could see the similarities in their features.

Eli had their distinctive height, colouring, and their trademark gray eyes. Eventually, Michael and Percival approached him with evidence of his mother’s perfidy in this very tavern, being careful about tarnishing his reputation.

Michael had been quick to accept Eli as their brother, but Percival had always felt there was something off about the man that he couldn’t put a finger on. He wouldn’t have bothered informing him about his impending nuptials, but as it stood, since Michael’s death, Eli had become his only surviving blood relative, and he wanted to keep that connection alive. That was what Michael would have wanted.

“It is merely a marriage of convenience,” he explained, waving a hand dismissively.

“What exactly do you mean by the term? Would she bear your heirs?”

“My contract with my wife does not require us to see each other more than a few times a year. It is a marriage in name only.”

“In that case, I must say congratulations. I must meet the lady who is about to make an honest man out of you,” Eli said with a teasing smile.

Percival gave a noncommittal grunt.

One tankard of ale and a few moments later, Percival was ready to go home. Saying his goodbyes to Eli, he headed out of the tavern and flagged down a hackney cab.

As the hackney pulled away from the seedy tavern and towards home, he thought about his impending marriage and the feisty lady that was to be his bride. When he had first met her inhis gloomy study at Colborne House, he had thought she was a beauty who had a scar that she made no effort to conceal. That fact had caught his attention.

Ladies of the ton were more likely to attempt to conceal such an imperfection with layers of powder, but she did not mind walking around barefaced, as if she was challenging everyone to think that she was less.

She had not seemed afraid of him, holding his gaze throughout their meeting. He was aware that he was intense in an intimidating way, but instead of cowering before him, she stood her ground. But her scar suggested that she had experienced things that no young lady should have to endure.

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