Chapter 1

Chapter One

“ I heard that this Season is starting off on an interesting note,” Isabella, Louisa’s twin sister, said, smiling as if she knew a secret they would be desperate to hear.

Everyone present sat up, including Benedict, the Duke of Northwick and Selina’s husband, and Duncan, the Duke of Fangsdale and Isabella’s husband, as they waited for the news.

Louisa, despite her usual disinterest, also sat up, wondering if perhaps there was news that would finally remove her name from the top of the rumour mills.

Even though two years had passed since she had been injured while trying to save her sister’s life, the story was still the most talked about, made even worse by the scar sitting proudly on her face. Even the peculiar entertainments at Isabella and Duncan’s lavish wedding party had not been enough to quell the rumours.

“I hear that the Duke of Colborne has returned,” Isabella intoned.

“Isn’t he the one who died a month ago?” Diana, their youngest sister, asked.

They had even attended the funeral, as the deceased Duke had no family except his friend, the Baron Gillingham, who had extended the invitation to Benedict and Duncan as fellow members of the peerage.

“That was Michael, the former Duke,” Benedict clarified. “You must be referring to Percival, then. I didn’t know he had returned.”

“Well, he has, and he apparently has to assume the title as the only heir,” Isabella said with a bright smile.

“Where did you hear this news, Isabella?” Diana asked excited.

“Lady Peregrine told me during tea yesterday,” Isabella answered. “I heard a lot of things about the Duke, and they are not very pleasant.”

“If they aren’t pleasant, then we shouldn’t talk about them,” Louisa said, even though her words lacked heat.

“Oh Louisa, you’re always so dull.” Isabella tsked. “It might interest you to know that he returned from missions overseas. He is a soldier, you see, and I hear he has many battle scars.”

Louisa couldn’t help the way her eyebrows shot up at the word ‘scars.’ It had been two years since she had acquired hers, and even though they weren’t horrid, they still stood proudly against her features and had earned her more than a few uncomfortable looks whenever any member of the ton deigned to talk to her. She had not been entirely wrong in her estimation of their vanity.

“They call him ‘the Beast’ because apparently, his scars are so grotesque that he has hidden himself away in his chambers,” Isabella continued. “A few of his maids had to quit because they couldn’t bear to look at him and because he had, apparently, nearly destroyed the manor when he had returned.”

“That is not a very nice moniker,” Selina muttered, hiding her frown behind her fan. “Even if he’s scarred and a little angry, there is no need to call him that.”

“I didn’t give him the moniker,” Isabella sniffed, showing her displeasure at being scolded. “Besides, if he doesn’t want the moniker, he shouldn’t hide away from Society. He hasn’t accepted any invitations to tea or even accepted any callers. He behaves like the fairytale creature after which he was named.”

“Do you not think that perhaps he keeps to himself because of the judgment he might receive from the ton?” Louisa argued.

“What judgment, Louisa?” Isabella asked.

“The judgment I receive every time I walk into a ballroom.”

“You’re being positively grim,” Isabella sniffed. “Do not ruin the mood this morning.”

But the damage was already done. Her mother and sisters—except Isabella, of course—looked positively apologetic, but she looked away. Louisa was used to the pitying looks she received from the members of the ton, but that didn’t mean they didn’t annoy her. She disliked their vanity and the way they were so quick to point fingers and make someone an outcast just because they had physical impairments.

If she had her way, she too would have chosen to hide away in their country estate rather than return to face the revulsion and pity of the ton.

She would have apologized for her mood, but their butler’s arrival put an end to their discussion and reminded them of the purpose of their gathering. They had been waiting for callers for either Louisa or Diana—the sisters yet to wed.

“A caller for Miss Louisa,” the butler announced, breaking the tension in the room.

They all sat up, and Lady Langham motioned for Louisa to fix her face, which she did even though she was in a surly mood.

“Who is it?” Lady Langham asked.

“Owen Dowding, the Viscount Pemberton,” the butler answered.

The sisters tittered and gave Louisa conspiratorial smiles.

Louisa suppressed the urge to sigh. The Viscount had been introduced to her a few weeks ago by her mother and had shown interest in her despite his inability to hide his revulsion at her scar. He was a young widower who had quickly taken to finding a replacement for his late wife as he needed an heir and he had been rather vocal about his desires not caring how they sounded.

It was not as though Lord Pemberton was thoroughly unpleasant—he was a gentleman by all standards, but with a penchant for bragging. She just wanted someone who wasn’t daunted by something as vain as a scar.

“Show him in at once, Albert,” her mother ordered.

He bowed, and a few minutes later, Lord Pemberton strolled in, an air of self-importance about him as he surveyed the room with an upturned nose.

“Lord Pemberton,” her mother greeted. “It’s a pleasure to see you this morning.”

“Lady Langham.” Lord Pemberton smiled down at her, kissing the back of her hand. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. You look positively radiant this morning.”

Lady Langham smiled brightly and blushed like a debutante.

Louisa shook her head at the scene but smiled nonetheless. She had already been prepared for this visit and was ready to charm as was expected of her.

Before Isabella had brought up news of the Duke of Colborne, she had been rebuffing claims that Lord Pemberton would propose that morning.

“Why else would he send so many flowers?” Diana had asked, referring to the large bouquet that had arrived the day before.

Louisa sincerely hoped that wasn’t true, but she had kept her opinion to herself. Her matchmaker of a mother would no doubt have gone on a tirade about how ungrateful she was being or how she was throwing her life away.

Lord Pemberton turned to her then, and she saw him wince before plastering a smile on her face. She wondered how her family hadn’t noticed the look on his face. She could already see Duncan and Benedict placing bets on whether or not the Viscount would propose. All her plans of charming him flew out the window.

“Miss Gouldsmith.” He smiled, kissing her hand. “You are as beautiful as a spring morning.”

She smiled and curtsied. “You flatter me, Lord Pemberton.” She remembered to smile bashfully, hiding her face behind her fan. “How do you fare this morning?”

“I am ecstatic.” Lord Pemberton beamed. “And the weather seems to reflect my mood. Would you care for a turn about your gardens? I spotted some begonias that I am interested in studying.”

Louisa was in no mood to take a turn about the gardens when he could barely stomach looking at her face and wanted very much to return to her chambers, but before she could voice her refusal, she caught her mother’s glare over his shoulder and accepted his arm.

“It would be my pleasure, My Lord.”

Lord Pemberton smiled and led the way, even though it was his first time in her family’s townhouse. He paused ever so often to admire the flowers.

He was a simple man, Lord Pemberton, with simple hobbies, and if he wanted, he could have his pick of any single lady of the ton. Louisa wondered why he would consider her. She was sorely tempted to ask him, but she knew her mother—who was only a few steps behind them—would berate her for being stupid.

“You are awfully quiet today, Miss Gouldsmith,” Lord Pemberton noted. “Does my presence offend you?”

She heard her mother’s sharp intake of breath and was quick to answer. “Not at all, My Lord. It is such a beautiful day, and I don’t want to ruin it with idle chit-chat. I would much rather enjoy the view with you.”

Lord Pemberton smiled brightly at her words and took her hands in his. “Your words have comforted me,” he admitted. “I would have been sorely disappointed had you said otherwise, for I hoped to ask for your mother’s permission to court you.”

Louisa’s eyes went wide as panic flooded her. She had thought she would have a week or more to scheme her way out of the engagement, but the damned man had to ruin it. Now, she would have to think of a solution on the spot. But what?

“M-My Lord, I am honoured,” she started, fumbling for the right words. “But don’t you think it’s too soon?”

She heard her mother hiss from behind them, but for propriety’s sake, Lady Langham couldn’t interrupt even if she dearly wanted to.

“I do not,” Lord Pemberton answered with a frown, no doubt wondering why he hadn’t been met with profuse gratitude. “I am as sure of your character as I can be, and I see no need to dally. Do you not think so?”

Louisa’s eyes darted around as she tried to come up with a response that would both save his pride and give her the chance to escape the dreadful match. A risky idea came to her mind, but it seemed the most sensible course of action at the moment.

“I do, but, My Lord, I am sorry to have led you on—I cannot grant that request.”

Lord Pemberton folded his arms, glaring at her. “Whyever not?” he asked hotly. “You do not have other suitors, and surely you cannot have set your sights on anyone more eligible than I. No one else would have you.”

Her anger flared at his snobbery, and she was glad that he had spoken thus. Now, she wouldn’t care the least bit about sparing his feelings.

“On the contrary, My Lord, I do have another suitor, and we are already courting,” she declared, returning his glare. “I hoped to keep it a secret for as long as I could, but I see no need to now.”

He laughed and then shot her a disbelieving look. “Oblige me, dear.” He smiled. “Who is this gentleman you speak of?”

She tried not to worry her lip even as the ridiculousness of what she was about to say hit her.

“The Duke of Colborne.”

She would have appreciated a gasp or at least a look of surprise, but his mocking laugh annoyed her to no end.

“Surely you jest,” he said, laughing. “I understand you are afraid to marry, but you do not have to make such ridiculous claims. If you need more time, you only have to ask.”

“I do not jest, My Lord,” she insisted, folding her arms.

“You’re courting the Beast?” His tone was incredulous, and she hated him for it.

“Do not call him that!” she hissed.

She hadn’t meant to be so rude, but she was tired of their erroneous judgment of the Duke.

“He is not a beast. Not in any way,” she added, managing to take the heat out of her words. “He has only been busy putting his estate in order and familiarizing himself with his new responsibilities.”

Lord Pemberton gave her a scalding look, but there was still a glint of mockery in his eyes.

“I do not believe you, my dear,” he said. “How could you possibly be courting him when he has only just returned?”

“I have known him since I was a child,” she answered, lifting her chin. “Perhaps I might ask him to be present at the next ball in my letter to him this eve.”

His eyes glinted with delight, and she wondered if perhaps she had taken her ruse too far.

“Is that so?” he drawled, grinning maliciously. “You do not have to wait that long to write to him. His estate is not a great distance from mine. I could help you deliver your letter as I return home.”

Louisa tried not to let her panic show and schooled her features to indifference. “You do not have to do that, My Lord. I could?—”

“Nonsense.” Lord Pemberton smiled. “I will consider it doing a friend a favour.”

Louisa knew that if she continued to refuse, her lie would unravel, so she nodded instead, surprising him.

“I will only be a moment then,” she told him.

She saw her mother glare at her, but she ignored her, and once inside, she went up to her room—but not before snatching one of the scented papers Isabella had abandoned since she got married and moved into her husband’s estate.

Penning a letter that would show how comfortable she was with the Duke was not hard at all, but she wondered if perhaps she was overdoing it. Reminding herself that Lord Pemberton would no doubt read it gave her the confidence to lightly seal it.

When she descended to hand him the letter, she saw her mother’s barely concealed glare as well as the near-laughing faces of her sisters, and knew she would be answering for her ruse as soon as he left.

“I must thank you again, My Lord,” she said, handing him the letter. “You truly are too kind.”

“Think nothing of it.” He smiled. “I shall see you at the Franworths’ ball, then.”

Lord Pemberton bid her family a good day and left, no doubt hurrying to the privacy of his carriage so he could read the letter.

“Louisa Amelia Gouldsmith,” Lady Langham screeched as soon as he had left. “Why would you let such a good opportunity slip through your fingers? You know how hard it has been for me to secure a match for you.”

“I know how hard you worked, Mother, but I do not want to marry him,” Louisa explained. “He doesn’t like me. He can barely stomach the sight of my scars. I cannot have a husband who hates my face.”

Her mother sighed, but her sisters and their husbands couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’m trying to imagine the Duke’s face when he reads that letter,” Isabella said playfully.

“Do tell us what you wrote, Louisa,” Benedict urged.

“You do realize that Lord Pemberton will read the letter.” Duncan chortled, beside himself.

“I know you didn’t want the match, but you didn’t need to pull the Duke into it.” Selina shook her head. “I hope he takes your jest in good faith.”

“Imagine if he responds,” Diana said, and everyone burst into more laughter.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Isabella giggled. “Do tell us if he replies, Louisa. I want to hear everything.”

“Who knows? This could be the start of a love story,” Selina teased.

“I truly hope you know what you’re doing, Louisa,” Lady Langham sniffed, stepping out of the room.

Louisa didn’t know what she was doing, but she hoped that no one, other than Lord Pemberton, would ever read that letter.