Page 18 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Louisa loved her twin sister, she truly did, and the fact that they were born mere moments apart meant that they shared a bond stronger than that seen between normal siblings. However, in moments like this, she wished for a respite from the suffocating protectiveness of her sister and her husband.

The moment she had tried to leave the house, Isabella overheard her speaking to her mother about her plans to meet with Percival. Isabella had insisted on accompanying her to chaperone them, since their mother wanted time with her grandson.

Coincidentally, just as they stepped out, Duncan arrived, and after some moments of kissing and hugging his wife, she managed to convince him to take them to the location of Louisa’s rendezvous with Percival.

That was how Louisa ended up standing with them in a menagerie, taking tiny sips of the punch they had procured from one of the booths nearby.

Since the accident that had permanently disfigured Louisa’s face, permanently differentiating her from her twin, Isabella had stopped short of wrapping her in cotton to protect her.

While Louisa understood that her sister acted out of the need to assuage her guilt, it did nothing to make her feel better about the invasion of her privacy.

“You do realize that this is supposed to be a private meeting, not a family picnic. What would Percival think when he arrives?”

“It seems you are on a first-name basis with the Duke already,” Isabella noted with a mischievous smile.

But the serious look on Louisa’s face seemed to remind her that her sister was indeed serious.

“I do realize you are old enough to make your own decisions, but I wish to ask if you are truly sure about this. You do realize you do not have to marry anyone you do not like. Besides, not much is known about your reclusive Duke, and something about that fact sets me on edge.”

“Isa, you do realize I have very few suitors, primarily because of my scar. Not many men are willing to overlook that to marry me, and no matter if I turn as ugly as sin, I would never marry a manwho is courting me because of some misguided pity or charity,” Louisa stated vehemently.

“Louisa you are still a beauty, scar or no scar. You are not required to endure an uncomfortable marriage simply because you think you would not attract a better suitor.”

“You are my sister, Isabella,” Louisa said with a dry laugh. “So it is expected that you view me through rose-coloured lenses.”

“I do not.”

“Isabella, he is a duke—a prime catch, according to Mama at least. I do not understand why you are making a fuss about it,” Louisa scoffed.

“We are just concerned, dear Louisa,” Duncan chimed in. “The Duke of Colborne is a mystery to the fashionable ton. Even the gentlemen barely have any information about him, apart from the fact that he was in the army for years, fighting the French. Years of such violence and a life of seclusion right after might not be the best for the sanity of a man. We just want you to be safe,” he added quietly, a frown of concern marring his brow.

Duncan had assumed the role of an older brother since he married Isabella, providing a blanket of brotherly protection that could be suffocating sometimes. But Louisa knew that part of his devotion stemmed from his guilt, especially considering that her injury was caused by his vindictive ex-fiancée, who had mistaken her for her twin sister. She had never had any reasonto doubt his love for Isabella, so she believed his concern was genuine.

“I guess we will learn more about him when he arrives,” she said, forcing a cheerful smile on her face.

Isabella turned to stare at her husband over her cup and exchanged smiles with him. The sort they exchanged when they shared a private joke.

“What? Would you kindly let me in on the joke?”

“Well,” Isabella began tentatively. “It seems to me that you are curious about this Duke of yours.”

The way she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively gave Louisa an idea of the sort of curiosity her sister was talking about.

She shifted in her seat, feeling her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “He is going to be my husband. It is only natural that I am curious about him.”

Her sister and her husband exchanged those knowing glances that never ceased to irk her. She watched them make a show of sipping their punch, a frown of frustration creasing her brow.

It was quite unfortunate that she was the only one who knew how far the Duke and Duchess of Fangsdale strayed from the prim and proper image they showed to the ton.

Duncan was a former rake, and his mischievous tendencies complemented that of his wife. Together, they had made it their life’s mission to tease her mercilessly about topics that were ordinarily considered taboo among polite company.

But then she did not qualify as polite company to them. She was just their sister, and most times, she considered that a blessing, since they treated her normally without the kid gloves that the rest of the family seemed to don around her.

Sticking a hand in the hidden pocket of her walking dress, she retrieved a pocket watch. Already several minutes had passed since their arrival and Percival was nowhere to be seen.

“It seems that the Duke has other engagements,” she murmured, looking around. “I have to take my leave. Mother needs me to go with her to the modiste—something about embellishments for the gown.” She patted her hair and rose from her seat.

“I wish you good luck with Mama,” Isabella said with a laugh, but then her eyes narrowed on something behind Louisa. “It seems your Duke is committed to your engagement, after all.”

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