Page 6 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
Mrs. Beecham nodded, “That will be satisfactory although we should like to freshen up first.”
“Oh! Of course. Well…wait here while I find a maid to direct you to your chambers.” He bowed and hurried off, leaving them milling about in the corridor. Freya avoided everyone’s eyes, still feeling out of sorts by her uncharacteristic outburst.
God, what was I thinking?
She rubbed her hands anxiously together, trying to decide whether she should tell her father about what happened or wait until he heard about it through the grapevine. She was rather inclined towards the latter because she could notbeginto imagine how the words would come out of her mouth.
Making a scene in public was certainlynoton the approved list of lady-like activities. Finally, a maid came hurrying down the hall dressed in black with a white apron and cap. She curtsied carelessly before asking them to follow her.
She led them up a flight of stairs before showing them to their assigned chambers, which were side by side much to Freya’s relief. “There’s hot water and soap in the basin as well as your luggage should you wish to change. Ring the bell if you require further help," the maid said as she came to a stop in the corridor after pointing out their rooms.
“Yes, thank you…er?” Mrs. Beecham said.
“Sarah. My name is Sarah.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Mrs. Beecham said. “That will be all.”
Sarah trotted away, and Freya retreated to her chambers and shut the door. She was glad of the few moments’ reprieve before she had to face anyone, especially her father. She was happy to also be able to change out of her mud-streaked gown, wash her face, hands, and feet, and take advantage of the chamber pot before changing into a simple muslin gown that required no help to put on.
She liked how light it was and the way it brought out the green of her eyes. She brushed her thick mane of chestnut hair until it shone and let it fall in curling cascades down her back.
Then with a deep breath, she marched to the door, ready to contend with her fate.
ChapterFour
Thanks to the obnoxious girl with the impossible green eyes, Eric was running late for his meeting. He was also still quite heated from the exchange as much as he tried to calm himself down.
It had been years since he’d interacted with ladies of theton, having joined the navy as soon as he attained his majority. He had been in the service for nine years, and much of that time had been spent at sea.
Three years ago, when an encounter with the French Navy had resulted in a major injury, was the first time he’d spent any significant time ashore. However, most of that time was spent recuperating. The ship’s physician had done a crude job of sewing him back together in an attempt to save his life. The result was six weeks of fever and a jagged scar that ran from his left cheek down his shoulder to his left elbow.
All in all, it meant he’d not spent much time in company withtonladies, but he was quite sure they were not meant to be so crude and vulgar.
What happened to studied politeness and ennui?
If all ladies of the town behaved like this, he did not know how he and his future bride were to get along. It was a worrying state of affairs. Eric hoped that the Duke would forgive him for his tardiness without forcing him to explain why. He did not think it would make a good impression if the Duke thought he would get in fights with ladies, no matter the provocation.
The carriage drew up outside a townhouse that was less impressive than Eric had been expecting. He knew that the Duke favored their side of the family because of the massive wealth they had managed to amass, but the man was supposed to have plenty of assets to his name, so it was surprising to see how modest his residence was.
Why it was hardly any bigger than the semi-detached cottage at St. John’s Wood where his mother and brother lived. He rang the bell standing to attention as he waited.
The butler opened the door and did a double take at the sight of his scar as many people did. Unlike the young lady he had met, he did not run away screaming. Instead, he studiously did not look at it as he took Eric’s card.
Eric was used to that sort of studied disregard. He preferred it in fact to open staring. Still, it stuck in his craw that a mere butler saw fit to extend him this kindness.
He did not wait long before the butler came back indicating that the master of the house would see him now. Eric handed over his hat and his cane, even though being bareheaded made him feel even more exposed. He followed the butler down a long, darkened corridor to a wooden door at the end.
The butler knocked once before opening the door and stepping aside to allow Eric to enter. The Duke was sitting behind a large mahogany desk in a throne-like chair, his hunched form looking small and frail as if he were a child sitting in his parent’s chair.
Eric was inwardly taken aback by his appearance, but he kept his face smooth and blank as he bowed to the Duke. “Your Grace, forgive my tardiness. I did not reckon on London’s traffic.”
The Duke stared blatantly at his scar. “I do not rememberthatfrom the last time I saw you.”
Eric blinked once and then again in bewilderment. As far as he could remember, he had never met the Duke. Then he realized that the man must be talking about his brother. Theyweresimilarly built with the same dark hair and blue eyes. Perhaps the man was just confused even though Eric had given him his card. “I suppose you have not heard, Your Grace, but my brother, Alexander, tragically passed away three days ago of typhoid fever. It was very sudden, they told me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Commander Eric Campbell, second son of Richard Campbell and your new heir.”
The Duke considered him for a long time without saying a word. Eric resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot as he waited for the verdict. Finally, the Duke made a rumbling noise as if he were both clearing his throat and snorting. “I suppose one brother will do as well as another. Have you been apprised of my conditions?”
Eric nodded. “I have, Your Grace.”
