Page 2 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“Your grace!” a carter yelled. Sidney’s head whipped round. The man on the cart had a blond beard and graying blond hair. He was Mr. Aldrich, a fellow who delivered vegetables to the manor. The man’s eyes widened in horror as he took in Sidney’s appearance.
“Goodness, your grace! Allow me to escort you home at once.”
Sidney whispered his thanks and allowed the fellow to help him into the cart. Quicksilver was fastened onto the cart too,walking alongside as they rode their way up the winding path towards London.
An hour later, the blood washed partly clean from his face by the torrential rain, his hair plastered to his skull and his body racked with pain and shivering, Sidney stumbled from the cart and into the townhouse.
“Your grace!” the butler exclaimed when he opened the door. Sidney half-fell in over the threshold. He collapsed in the doorway. Amy’s scream rent his ears.
“Sidney! Mama! Fetch the physician! Sidney’s bleeding. He’s hurt! Fetch him at once.”
Sidney lay where he had fallen. Mama and Amy ran to him, exclaiming over him and trying to rub the blood off his face and hands with handkerchiefs.
“He’s bleeding so much...” Amy whispered desperately.
“Summon Mrs. Haddon. She should have some clean cloths,” Mama’s voice instructed. She might have been born to an ancient noble house, but she was practical to an almost ruthless degree. Sidney slumped forward, knowing he was being taken care of.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Haddon, was summoned, and the butler. Sidney felt himself lifted as someone carried him upstairs to his bedroom. He was lying in bed, after Richford, his manservant, helped him to change out of his soaking clothes and into a nightgown, when the physician arrived.
“I can do what I can, your grace,” the physician said gravely. “But I do not know if I can restore everything fully.”
Sidney winced. He had always been conscious of his looks. Not vain, exactly, but he had known he was good-looking like Father, as Mama always said. He was aware that he drew the eye of thetontowards himself when he was at Almack’s, and he was not displeased by it.
“Do what you can,” he said grimly.
“I shall, your grace.”
Six months later, Sidney stared into the mirror in the hallway near the dining room. Hatred surged in his heart. Not hatred for Doctor Penwick, who had done his best in restoring Sidney to health. But for the hideous, scarred visage he saw in the mirror in front of him.
“God,” he whispered. “How can I live with this?”
His smooth skin was bisected in two places by a jagged, pink-edged line. One sliced across his right cheek, and the other down his nose, ending on his upper lip. His nose itself had not been distorted, and for that he was grateful. A third scar sliced sideways, towards his chin, but that one was only a hair’s breadth in thickness.
“God,” Sidney whispered, staring at his own scarred face. “Help me.”
He gazed at his hands, which were likewise lined with scars. He could cover those with gloves. But he could not hide the oneson his face. His own green eyes stared, horrified, back at him.
He looked terrible. How was he going to manage to be Duke, to manage all his duties with a face that would make most women run away from him in fear?
He was going to have to try. He had promised it to his father.
Chapter 1
May 1816
“Sister...are you sure about this?” Sidney hissed as he stood on the top step of the mansion on Duchess Street in London. His heart was thudding, and he felt terrified. The scars on his hands were stretched over his clenched fists and he winced at the pain in them. They still hurt in the early morning chill, and the breeze was brisk and cold.
Amy, her hazel eyes widening, shot him an impatient glance.
“Yes. Quite sure. It’s an art gallery, Sidney! You’ll love it.”
Sidney made a sour face. He was sure his younger sister was intentionally ignoring his real concerns. She could not fail to understand how terrified he felt of what people would say or do when they saw him. He had been out of society for a year, allowing his wounds to heal as much as they were going to. Now, for the first time, he’d listened to her entreaties and had agreed to be dragged to this place to view an art collection.
He glanced sideways, trying to avoid spotting his reflection in the window opposite. The image of his face in the looking glass in his bedroom haunted him still. No fancy cravat or gold cufflink was going to draw people’s attention away from thathideous scarring. He knew that. All he could pray was that nobody screamed outright.
He gazed down at his hands, bitterness and sorrow mixing to make a lump in his throat. He had wanted to wear his riding-gloves, but that had felt too eccentric, even to him, and so he had left them off, and he curled his hand into a fist, trying to hide the worst of the scars.
“Henry?” his sister called, turning around. Sidney glanced sideways, catching sight of Henry, the Earl of Barrydale. He was newly married to Amy, after a courtship that had lasted only a few months before the two of them declared themselves blissfully in love. Sidney felt his lip lifting in a smile at the thought.
