Page 58 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

As a second son with no title, he wouldn’t have been forced to marry or have children for the sake of continuing the line.

She walked away from him—stumbling, if she chose to be accurate—needing air and space to process what she had heard. She had deluded herself into thinking that perhaps, one day,they would come to have a normal relationship like all married couples did, but he had not even chosen her because he liked her. He had chosen her because she was a convenient way to fix his problems without having to exert himself. She had been an all too willing, easy solution.

It was almost too much to bear, and all she needed was to be by herself, preferably away from the prying eyes of the ton, who would have no doubt quickly spread the word that the new Duchess was crying. The balcony was only a few steps away, and she could already sense the cold air.

“Being a duchess suits you,” she heard suddenly from behind her, and she drew to a halt.

Dammit.

She groaned inwardly. Just when she thought she could escape, someone had to demand her attention.

She took a quick, steadying breath, wiping her face and eyes in case any errant tears had escaped before turning to face the culprit. And she was surprised to find Lord Pemberton standing before her.

“Lord Pemberton,” she greeted. “Good evening.”

“Good evening to you too,” he said with a bow. “I feel like I have barely seen you since you jilted me for your Duke.”

She noticed that he hadn’t once winced or looked upon her with pity as he used to, and she wondered what could have brought about the change in his demeanor.

Perhaps now that he wouldn’t have to marry her, he could stomach the sight of her?

“I would hardly call what I did jilting,” she countered with a smile. “You and my mother assumed I was courting anyone. You could have asked.”

“I saw no need to, considering you went along with it.” He smiled back. “Almost as though?—”

She didn’t let him finish.

“How can I help you, Lord Pemberton?” she asked. “Surely you didn’t just come to reminisce about the past, and I’ve been married long enough that it would be more appropriate for you to send me your felicitations.”

She sincerely hoped he didn’t hold a grudge against her and didn’t intend to get revenge. It wouldn’t be unexpected, but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with that currently.

“I came to ask you to dance.”

“Excuse me?”

“I would like to dance with you,” he reiterated. “Is it a strange thing to ask?”

“Why?” she demanded, hoping no one had heard the odd request.

“We are friends, are we not?” he pointed out. “Is it odd for friends to share a dance?”

“I cannot dance with you when everyone knows that we courted once,” she explained, wondering why he would suggest it, let alone think it. “It isn’t proper.”

“I only made the proposition as a friend, Louisa.” He smiled. “I know you are happy with your Duke, and since when have you cared what the ton think?”

“I don’t exactly care what they think, but I am married now. I wouldn’t want to make the wrong impression.”

“I can understand that, but your husband doesn’t seem very keen on showing you the same courtesy,” he sighed. “I mean, he hasn’t even asked you to dance.”

Louisa frowned deeply to show her displeasure, even though she worried that everyone present had somehow glimpsed her sadness.

“You cannot manipulate my emotions to get me to dance with you, Lord Pemberton,” she huffed, peering down her nose athim. “And my husband is busy reconnecting with old friends of his who wouldn’t appreciate you slandering him.”

“I have tried being polite,” Lord Pemberton said, undeterred by her threat. “There’s no need to resort to threats. I know just how powerful your husband is.”

“Yet, you would dare to cross him.”

“A man needs to have his feathers ruffled every once in a while,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

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