Page 25 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

“Your Graces,” a voice greeted, causing Louisa to turn around.

It was the butler. Louisa recognized him from her previous adventure in the manor.

“I was not expecting you to return this early, Your Grace,” the butler then addressed Percival.

“You need not hurry on our account, Tobias. I trust that you and the other servants will be done with whatever cleaning services you hope to render. You have prepared my wife’s chamber, yes?” Percival asked with a raised eyebrow.

“My apologies, Your Grace.” Tobias winced. “It is almost ready, Your Grace. We are having some trouble replacing most of the items in the room.”

“Alright.” Percival said, stepping past the butler to push the heavy doors wider and nudging his wife inside. “I am taking the Duchess on a tour of the grounds. I will also show her some of the other rooms at the other wings of the estate. Will it be ready then?”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Tobias replied, before retreating briskly and disappearing around some dark corner.

The interior of the manor was even creepier and darker than Louisa remembered. The staircase that she guessed led to one of the dilapidated wings of the manor was collapsing, the railing so heavily rusted that it was barely hanging onto its hinges.

“I would not recommend venturing in that direction. That is the oldest wing of the manor and the most damaged. Please, do not go there for any reason—any reason at all,” Percival warned sternly. “Come, I will show you to the other parts of the manor.”

He led her towards the west wing of the manor, where his study was located. She remembered it from the first day she had visited although she hadn’t had the time to take in the only well preserved room she had noted so far.

It smelled like ink and paper and the floor to ceiling shelves contained books that must have been favourites of his. Her hand itched to peruse them to see what sort of things interested him.

“I am quite sure you remember this room. It is my study. It also serves as a sanctuary of sorts. I prefer to spend my quiet time here. And I do not like to be disturbed when I am here.”

She understood the unspoken message clearly, even though the words felt like a slap across the face. If she needed confirmation of the Duke’s resolve to lead separate lives, this was as good a proof as any.

Closing the door behind them, led her to another room close to the study. She knew it was his bedroom as soon as she stepped inside. It was sparsely furnished and minimalistic, just like the man himself. The main furniture was a mahogany king-sized bed and a small couch. And the only other spot of colour in the room was emerald-green curtains hanging over the windows.

Its sparseness should have dampened her curiosity, but instead, she wondered why he had not bothered to decorate. Why he was not sleeping in the master chambers. Why there was no sign of his favourite colour in his room. It was as if he had taken over the room without changing anything, not caring much for adding his personal touch.

Her eyes flitted to the massive bed that dominated the room. It was big enough for both of them to sleep in it without their bodies touching.

Her mind took the filthy route as she imagined what it would feel like to be pressed against his chest in the middle of his bed while he took her lips in one of his drugging kisses.

“Louisa,” Percy called, pulling her out of her reverie.

She was startled to find that he was standing so close to her, glowering down at her, his eyes glinting with some wild emotion she could not place.

“Yes!” she answered, her cheeks burning with guilt.

The mischievous grin that curved her husband’s lips confirmed that he had guessed the direction her thoughts had taken.

Damn the man for being so perceptive while remaining an enigma.

“I should show you the other rooms,” he said, offering her his arm.

After a pause, she took his arm, and they walked out of his room and down the hall towards a slightly ajar door.

“This is your room,” he murmured, before pushing the door open wider.

How convenient. It is quite far from his bedroom.

There were two women in the room—a buxom older woman who had brown hair the colour of chocolate and a younger lady with hair a lighter shade of brown. They worked industriously, preparing the room for their mistress. They were so engrossed in their duties that Percival had to clear his throat rather loudly to draw their attention.

The identical looks of surprise on their faces might have been funny if Louisa had been in a happier mood. Now that their faces were turned towards her, it was easy to see that they were related because of their similar features.

“Good evening, Your Graces,” they greeted, dropping into hurried curtsies.

“Welcome to Colborne House, Your Grace,” the older woman said, moving closer to Louisa and smiling widely. “I only saw you briefly at the chapel. My name is Mrs. Owens. I am the housekeeper here, and I cannot tell you how glad I am that his home finally has a mistress.”

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