Page 79 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

“I don’t know who started the rumours that Percival was dead, but I was grateful for it.” Percival heard him laugh. “Michael went crazy trying to get information from the army, and in that desperation, I saw he was no longer fit for the title. He was so mad with grief that he often drank himself into oblivion, and I stood by, comforting him but biding my time. Somehow, the Duke had only birthed weak sons. But it didn’t matter. My title was just within my grasp, and it was almost too easy.”

“But he is family, surely you would not wish him dead,” Louisa said tentatively while her eyes searched the room for a means of escape.

“Have you not been listening to me, Duchess? I am quite capable of killing family. Hell, I killed my own father, and I am responsible for Michael’s death as well, I am afraid,” he intoned, his face splitting in the most sinister smile she had ever seen.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Here, Your Grace,” Diana announced, showing Percival the abandoned warehouse that sat in the middle of a small clearing miles away from his estate.

He nodded and returned her to the waiting carriage.

“Thank you for your help, Miss Diana,” he told her. “But I will need you to help me a little more.”

“What is it, Your Grace?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Diana had surprised him with her spine of steel. He had expected her to burst into tears, but she had shown resolve, asking relevant questions and keeping silent whenever he needed to think.

“I need you to return to my estate. The constables should have arrived by now, and you’re the only one who can lead them here.”

She nodded and let him hand her into the carriage.

“I will return quickly. But…” She held on to his hand. “Do not do anything till we return. Louisa will be heartbroken if anything happens to you.”

“Thank you for your help, Miss Diana, and I am sorry this happened,” he sighed. “I should have been there with her.”

“There was nothing you could have done. You were tricked into leaving her alone,” Diana said with a small smile. “Do not blame yourself.”

How couldn’t he?

His wife had probably been kidnapped because of him. He sincerely hoped that she wasn’t being tortured for something he had done, even though his mind could not point to anything in particular.

“I cannot help it,” he admitted. “It was a stroke of good luck that you had arrived in time, or I would have had no clue about her whereabouts.”

“Indeed, it was. You mustn’t worry about Louisa. She is fairly capable of taking care of herself,” Diana reassured him. “if she could face down a knife at the expense of her life to save our sister, there is no danger she cannot overcome.”

“That doesn’t assure me as much you hope it would.” He laughed.

“I should hope it does. My sister is a strong woman. You just have to have faith that she will be fine till we rescue her.”

Percival really wanted to, but he couldn’t help but worry about his wife.

“I must be off now if we are going to save her in time. Please wait till I return, Your Grace,” Diana warned. “It would do her no good if you move too quickly and she is hurt in the process.

He nodded and closed the door of the carriage, waiting till she was safely out of the woods before returning to scout the warehouse. It was late evening and with the sun gradually setting, the scene would have been picturesque hadn’t it been the circumstances surrounding his presence there.

The place was oddly quiet, but he remembered Diana mentioning that two men had carried Louisa out of the house. But he was yet to see any of them.

He could see the light inside the warehouse, but he couldn’t hear anything from where stood. He dared a closer look but stopped when he heard the sound of a branch breaking behind him.

He turned around, narrowly dodging a blow from a man he hadn’t noticed before. He rose to his full height, looking around for his accomplice.

“Well.” The man smiled. “What do we have here?”

So much for not doing anything.

“I want my wife,” he gritted out, frowning as he readied himself for the fight to come.

The man laughed, squaring his shoulders. “Oi, Fred,” he called out. “The Duke wants his wife.”

---