Page 5 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
The word jumped to the forefront of her mind, and she jumped back, almost falling on the precious orchid. She stumbled, twisting her body away from it and falling into an undignified lump beside it. Aside from the incredible sting on her bottom, she was quite all right if extremely mortified.
She looked up at the man who had scared her and saw that he looked amused. That was the last straw for her, and she screamed. “What thedevilis the matter with you?”
He looked nonplussed. “I beg your pardon?”
“What business could you possibly have accosting people and scaring them half to death? Are you some sort of degenerate? You enjoy terrifying people?”
To her further annoyance, the man laughed some more — though he sounded bitter. He turned away so that his scar was no longer visible. “I did nothing but ask you a question.”
Freya’s bosom was heaving, her breath coming fast as she tried to think of something to say. It’s possible she was hasty in her assessment of the situation.
“It’s entirelyyourfault that you ended up on your arse.” He continued smirking, and that wasit.
She scrambled to her feet while he watched her,stillsmirking and fueling her rage. As soon as she was back on her feet, she stepped towards him and lifted her hand to slap his face. She was startled by how fast he caught her hand, his eyes narrowing, making him look even more intimidating. She gasped, trying to jerk her hand away, but he tightened his grip.
“Listen, brat. I have no time for your spoiled tantrums. If your mother did not teach you how to behave, I’d be glad to have you over my lap and spank the rudeness out of you.”
She gasped and kicked his shin without even thinking about it. That made him let go of her wrist, and she stepped back out of his reach as he winced, reaching down to rub his ankle.
“Are all the ladies in London as savage as you? Someone should notify the red coats so they can recruit from the gentry.”
“You…you…” Freya growled, fisting her hands, too angry to come up with anything that could articulate her feelings.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” He quirked an eyebrow impishly.
“Oooh! Devil take you, you ugly…pirate!” she yelled.
People began to pop their heads out of their carriages, pedestrians stopping to stare. This should have bothered Freya, but she was still too angry to care. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have hit him in the chest repeatedly with her fists.
He flinched at her words, and she was viciously gratified to know she’d made a hit. “Well, well, well…that’s it, go for the most obvious dig. That’s the spirit. Well done Miss. I’m sure your husband would be very impressed if he saw you.”
The man began to clap sarcastically. Freya did not understand why she was letting this stranger rile her up so much, but she could not seem to help herself.
“Much better than some…pirate troubling a lady who hasdone nothingto him! You are nothing but a rakehell with no manners and no regard for nature. You should go and crawl back into the hole from which you came.”
“Freya!”
She turned to see that Mrs. Beecham had come to find out what the commotion was about.
Freya blushed as the governess glared at her. Then Mrs. Beecham was turning to the man and apologizing profusely forherbehavior.
“Excuse me!” Freya protested, “He’s the one-!”
Mrs. Beecham rounded on her, “Freya hush!”
The man touched Mrs. Beecham’s arm. “Never mind, ma’am. It’s quite all right. I do understand that your charge has a few more lessons to learn when it comes to manners. I’m sure you do your best to teach her.”
Freya growled at him. He gave her a crooked smile, tipped his hat, and walked away. Freya took a step to follow him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but Mrs. Beecham grabbed her hand and pulled. “Oh no you do not, young lady. You might have left the school room, but at the moment, you are behaving very childishly. Come with me right now.” She pulled Freya towards their carriage.
Freya dragged her feet, too busy glaring after the man, but then she noticed all the other carriages, all the people watching her with amusement or disgust, and she straightened up, hastening her footsteps to reach the carriage.
Her face heated with mortification. She had no idea why she behaved in such a way — in public to boot. If her father ever heard of this, she dreaded what he might do.
She let Mrs. Beecham pull her up into the carriage and harangue her the rest of the way until they arrived at the Stark townhouse.
Nobody was at the door to greet them, and the governess had to ring the bell several times before the butler answered.
“Apologies,” he said sounding harried. “We’ve had a bit of an upheaval today what with the Duke…” he trailed off, spotting Freya and Isabella, before stepping back. “Do come in. A footman will fetch your luggage in just a moment. You must be tired. Why don’t you wait in the parlor while I have some refreshments brought?”
