Page 19 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Louisa turned to see that Percival was indeed approaching them in long-legged strides. She let out a relieved sigh.

“Good day, Miss Louisa,” he greeted with a deep bow when he stopped in front of them. “I apologize for my tardiness,” he said with an unreadable expression, raising her hand to his lips.

Louisa only nodded in acknowledgment, unsure what to say. Breaking eye contact with her, he turned to greet Isabella and Duncan before asking her to take a turn with him around the menagerie.

“I did not expect your invitation, Miss,” he began when they were out of earshot.

“Louisa,” she uttered.

“What?” he asked, watching her with an unreadable gaze.

“Just call me Louisa,” she clarified. “Since we are going to be married, it seems right for you to use it.”

“In that case, you should call me Percival,” he said after a pause.

She stumbled back, clearly not expecting him to give in so easily, but then she righted herself and they resumed their stroll. If he found her actions odd, he said nothing.

“All right.” She nodded. “Now that the matter is settled, I would love to know why you thought my invitation was odd. We are to be married, are we not? Isn’t it right that you at least court me before you propose?”

“I had assumed that since we will have a marriage of convenience, I was not required to court you.”

“I do not require you to court me truly, Percival,” she explained, glaring at him. “But even if we were to be husband and wife only on paper, I highly doubt you would want anyone else to know that. It would attract too much attention if we suddenly announce an engagement.”

“But your Lord Pemberton will be a witness to our courtship.”

Was he going to be this stubborn about everything?

“I do not think his word would be sufficient to convince all of England that we had a rushed marriage not because I was compromised.”

“And I suppose you would rather they think us a love match?”

“Precisely.”

“This was not what we discussed earlier.”

“For our plans to work, there have to be adjustments,” she emphasized. “It will be difficult to convince them that we are a happily married couple if we’ve barely been seen together or if we barely know anything about each other.”

“You strike a hard bargain, but you have a valid point. Ask away, I am all ears.”

She fished in her pockets, produced a folded piece of parchment, and unfolded it.

“Do not tell me that you curated a list,” he said, his voice ringing with disbelief.

“Well, I did. What other way is there to ensure that I remember all the important questions?” She raised an eyebrow.

“As you wish, Louisa,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “Do go ahead.”

She smoothed the piece of parchment and scanned it, her eyes skipping between the lines. His fingers itched to smoothen out the furrow between her eyebrows.

“Tell me, Percy,” she began, tearing her gaze away from her list. “Why did you become a soldier?” she asked, examining his face closely.

Percival schooled his features into an impassive mask and gave her the diplomatic answer. “It is a noble occupation.”

She stared at him for a few moments, and when it became obvious that he was not going to provide further information on the subject, she moved on to her next question.

“What is your favourite colour?”

Percival was a bit taken aback by the new direction their conversation had taken, from a potentially emotionally charged question to one that seemed innocuous.

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