Page 63 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

The carriage ride was silent, but he could see her contemplating whether or not to break it. Suddenly, the carriage ran over a pothole, propelling her out of her seat. But he grabbed her shoulders, steadying her, and her hands landed on his knees. They froze as they realized the position they were in and then jumped apart.

The carriage bounced again, throwing her off her seat. But this time, she didn’t fall to the floor. Percival rapped on the roof of the carriage, and the vehicle rolled to a stop.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Wiggings, the driver, called.

“Wait.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Wiggings answered without needing further explanations.

“What are you doing?” Louisa asked, startled.

“Come sit beside me,” Percival gritted out, tired of watching her struggle.

“What?” she blurted out, her eyes wide.

“Sit beside me,” he reiterated. “There’s enough space, and I’m tired of seeing you fly out of your seat.”

“There’s no need…”

“Please, don’t argue.”

She looked like she wanted to, but then she sighed and moved to sit beside him, her eyes not meeting his as she put as much space between them as she could. He rolled his eyes and rapped on the roof once again, and soon they took off.

The silence he usually found comforting irritated him, and he found himself getting angry that she wouldn’t even attempt to make conversation. Not that he could fault her for her silence. She had made every effort to give them a semblance of a happy marriage while he spat on her attempts at every turn.

When the carriage finally slowed to a stop, he climbed out first and then held out a hand to help her down, surprising her. She took it but said nothing even as they stepped into their home.

She turned to leave, but he stopped her with a hand. Her eyes were wide and questioning as they looked up at him.

“I should thank you for helping us leave early,” he began, averting his gaze. “I needed to leave and… thank you.”

She nodded and then turned to leave, and all at once he was upset. If she didn’t want to speak to him, why did she help him then?

He grabbed her hand more forcefully than he had expected, and she yelped, turning to him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Why don’t you want to speak to me?” he asked angrily.

“You’re hurting me,” she complained.

He looked down at his hand wrapped around her arm and released her, dropping it to his side. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“What exactly is it that you want from me, Percival?” she spat. “You don’t want to make me happy, yet you get angry when others do. You pull me closer and then push me away, claiming it was a mistake. What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean by I don’t want to make you happy? I married you,” he argued. “I saved you from a marriage you didn’t want.”

“I’mstarting to think this was a mistake,” she murmured.

He stepped closer to her, hating the way she stumbled back. “Surely you don’t mean that.”

“Please let me be, Percival,” she begged. “I understood when you said what happened between us was a mistake. I accepted the hand fate has dealt me, but you don’t get to claim me as yours when you haven’t made me yours. You haven’t evendecidedif you want me to be yours. Isn’t my grief justified?”

“Louisa, you misunderstand my intentions,” he insisted. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” she asked.

“From myself.”

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