Chapter 6

Chapter Six

L ouisa loved her twin sister, she truly did, and the fact that they were born mere moments apart meant that they shared a bond stronger than that seen between normal siblings. However, in moments like this, she wished for a respite from the suffocating protectiveness of her sister and her husband.

The moment she had tried to leave the house, Isabella overheard her speaking to her mother about her plans to meet with Percival. Isabella had insisted on accompanying her to chaperone them, since their mother wanted time with her grandson.

Coincidentally, just as they stepped out, Duncan arrived, and after some moments of kissing and hugging his wife, she managed to convince him to take them to the location of Louisa’s rendezvous with Percival.

That was how Louisa ended up standing with them in a menagerie, taking tiny sips of the punch they had procured from one of the booths nearby.

Since the accident that had permanently disfigured Louisa’s face, permanently differentiating her from her twin, Isabella had stopped short of wrapping her in cotton to protect her.

While Louisa understood that her sister acted out of the need to assuage her guilt, it did nothing to make her feel better about the invasion of her privacy.

“You do realize that this is supposed to be a private meeting, not a family picnic. What would Percival think when he arrives?”

“It seems you are on a first-name basis with the Duke already,” Isabella noted with a mischievous smile.

But the serious look on Louisa’s face seemed to remind her that her sister was indeed serious.

“I do realize you are old enough to make your own decisions, but I wish to ask if you are truly sure about this. You do realize you do not have to marry anyone you do not like. Besides, not much is known about your reclusive Duke, and something about that fact sets me on edge.”

“Isa, you do realize I have very few suitors, primarily because of my scar. Not many men are willing to overlook that to marry me, and no matter if I turn as ugly as sin, I would never marry a man who is courting me because of some misguided pity or charity,” Louisa stated vehemently.

“Louisa you are still a beauty, scar or no scar. You are not required to endure an uncomfortable marriage simply because you think you would not attract a better suitor.”

“You are my sister, Isabella,” Louisa said with a dry laugh. “So it is expected that you view me through rose-coloured lenses.”

“I do not.”

“Isabella, he is a duke—a prime catch, according to Mama at least. I do not understand why you are making a fuss about it,” Louisa scoffed.

“We are just concerned, dear Louisa,” Duncan chimed in. “The Duke of Colborne is a mystery to the fashionable ton. Even the gentlemen barely have any information about him, apart from the fact that he was in the army for years, fighting the French. Years of such violence and a life of seclusion right after might not be the best for the sanity of a man. We just want you to be safe,” he added quietly, a frown of concern marring his brow.

Duncan had assumed the role of an older brother since he married Isabella, providing a blanket of brotherly protection that could be suffocating sometimes. But Louisa knew that part of his devotion stemmed from his guilt, especially considering that her injury was caused by his vindictive ex-fiancée, who had mistaken her for her twin sister. She had never had any reason to doubt his love for Isabella, so she believed his concern was genuine.

“I guess we will learn more about him when he arrives,” she said, forcing a cheerful smile on her face.

Isabella turned to stare at her husband over her cup and exchanged smiles with him. The sort they exchanged when they shared a private joke.

“What? Would you kindly let me in on the joke?”

“Well,” Isabella began tentatively. “It seems to me that you are curious about this Duke of yours.”

The way she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively gave Louisa an idea of the sort of curiosity her sister was talking about.

She shifted in her seat, feeling her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “He is going to be my husband. It is only natural that I am curious about him.”

Her sister and her husband exchanged those knowing glances that never ceased to irk her. She watched them make a show of sipping their punch, a frown of frustration creasing her brow.

It was quite unfortunate that she was the only one who knew how far the Duke and Duchess of Fangsdale strayed from the prim and proper image they showed to the ton.

Duncan was a former rake, and his mischievous tendencies complemented that of his wife. Together, they had made it their life’s mission to tease her mercilessly about topics that were ordinarily considered taboo among polite company.

But then she did not qualify as polite company to them. She was just their sister, and most times, she considered that a blessing, since they treated her normally without the kid gloves that the rest of the family seemed to don around her.

Sticking a hand in the hidden pocket of her walking dress, she retrieved a pocket watch. Already several minutes had passed since their arrival and Percival was nowhere to be seen.

“It seems that the Duke has other engagements,” she murmured, looking around. “I have to take my leave. Mother needs me to go with her to the modiste—something about embellishments for the gown.” She patted her hair and rose from her seat.

“I wish you good luck with Mama,” Isabella said with a laugh, but then her eyes narrowed on something behind Louisa. “It seems your Duke is committed to your engagement, after all.”

Louisa turned to see that Percival was indeed approaching them in long-legged strides. She let out a relieved sigh.

“Good day, Miss Louisa,” he greeted with a deep bow when he stopped in front of them. “I apologize for my tardiness,” he said with an unreadable expression, raising her hand to his lips.

Louisa only nodded in acknowledgment, unsure what to say. Breaking eye contact with her, he turned to greet Isabella and Duncan before asking her to take a turn with him around the menagerie.

“I did not expect your invitation, Miss,” he began when they were out of earshot.

“Louisa,” she uttered.

“What?” he asked, watching her with an unreadable gaze.

“Just call me Louisa,” she clarified. “Since we are going to be married, it seems right for you to use it.”

“In that case, you should call me Percival,” he said after a pause.

She stumbled back, clearly not expecting him to give in so easily, but then she righted herself and they resumed their stroll. If he found her actions odd, he said nothing.

“All right.” She nodded. “Now that the matter is settled, I would love to know why you thought my invitation was odd. We are to be married, are we not? Isn’t it right that you at least court me before you propose?”

“I had assumed that since we will have a marriage of convenience, I was not required to court you.”

“I do not require you to court me truly, Percival,” she explained, glaring at him. “But even if we were to be husband and wife only on paper, I highly doubt you would want anyone else to know that. It would attract too much attention if we suddenly announce an engagement.”

“But your Lord Pemberton will be a witness to our courtship.”

Was he going to be this stubborn about everything?

“I do not think his word would be sufficient to convince all of England that we had a rushed marriage not because I was compromised.”

“And I suppose you would rather they think us a love match?”

“Precisely.”

“This was not what we discussed earlier.”

“For our plans to work, there have to be adjustments,” she emphasized. “It will be difficult to convince them that we are a happily married couple if we’ve barely been seen together or if we barely know anything about each other.”

“You strike a hard bargain, but you have a valid point. Ask away, I am all ears.”

She fished in her pockets, produced a folded piece of parchment, and unfolded it.

“Do not tell me that you curated a list,” he said, his voice ringing with disbelief.

“Well, I did. What other way is there to ensure that I remember all the important questions?” She raised an eyebrow.

“As you wish, Louisa,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “Do go ahead.”

She smoothed the piece of parchment and scanned it, her eyes skipping between the lines. His fingers itched to smoothen out the furrow between her eyebrows.

“Tell me, Percy,” she began, tearing her gaze away from her list. “Why did you become a soldier?” she asked, examining his face closely.

Percival schooled his features into an impassive mask and gave her the diplomatic answer. “It is a noble occupation.”

She stared at him for a few moments, and when it became obvious that he was not going to provide further information on the subject, she moved on to her next question.

“What is your favourite colour?”

Percival was a bit taken aback by the new direction their conversation had taken, from a potentially emotionally charged question to one that seemed innocuous.

“Blue,” he replied.

“Why don’t you attend balls?”

“I love my privacy,” he replied stiffly.

He was startled when she let out a groan of frustration.

“Percival, I am not conducting an interview,” she said, her voice laced with barely leashed frustration. “Please desist from answering my questions like I am conducting one. I ask these questions to get to know you better, so I do not particularly care for your superficial answers.”

“Does a groom who replies with more words make part of your list of requirements for marriage?” he asked, an amused smile curving his lips.

She burst into laughter. The melodic sound was a balm to the turmoil in his soul that he had carried for the past few years.

“I might have to add it,” she quipped when her laughter died down. “You never told me what else you require of me as your wife.”

“I will do that, but I’d rather have the conversation back at my manor. My requirements might include rules about where you can or cannot go,” he said.

“Why? Am I to become a prisoner in my own matrimonial home?” she asked hotly, her eyes narrowing.

“Absolutely not. I only seek to ensure your safety, which will become my responsibility once we are wed,” he explained quickly. “However, I can be particular sometimes and require things to be done in a particular way. Routine settles my mind, so I do not like to flout that order. We will speak on this later.”

“Do you have other expectations? In the bedroom?” Louisa asked, her cheeks flushing a deep red.

The question seemed to make him uncomfortable, as he adjusted his stance.

“I require nothing else, my dear. I would never force you to uphold vows you don’t mean or make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable. I would honour any other additional requirements you make.”

“There is nothing particularly dramatic. I just require that we at least spend some time together. If we do not, I am positive it will get very lonely. I do value my sanity and yours profoundly,” she said in a wistful tone.

“And?” he prompted.

“I would like to have something sweet every day as well. I have developed quite a sweet tooth, you see,” she continued, flashing him a bright smile that he could not resist returning.

“I will do my best, Louisa.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, laughing and bobbing a mock curtsy. “I might add more requirements as time goes on.”

“I am yours to command, Louisa. I accepted all your requirements earlier, remember?” he reminded her.

“You did. Forgive me if I dismissed it as the usual promises gentlemen make to get what they want.”

He leaned closer to her, and she tried to maintain her position and not blush further under his heated gaze.

“In the future, dear Louisa,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over her face then settling on her lips, “you would come to realize that my word is my bond.”

Louisa could feel the most delicious tingle starting in her lips. She wondered vaguely what it would feel like to kiss him.

“It is all I have left,” he whispered, raising his hand as if to touch her face then dropping it at the last moment.

The movement snapped Louisa out of her trance, and she swallowed thickly, stepping back to regain her composure.

“What are your plans for the wedding? Would I finally see your family?”

“I barely have any family. Just the Baron Gillingham, a relative of mine, and Lieutenant Colonel Weston, a superior in the army who became a dear friend,” he said with a reminiscent smile that soon became somber. “I wonder if he’ll receive the letter on time.”

Or if he is alive.

If there was something his stint in the army had taught him, it was the fragility of life, and in their line of work, it took so little for a body to go from being living to being lifeless. The transition could occur in a second.

While Lieutenant Colonel Weston was no longer in active service, he still worked with the Armed forces, obtaining intelligence about the French. And while the life of a spy was not as violent as that of a soldier, it was still as treacherous.

“You do not seem interested in getting to know me, Your Grace.”

Louisa’s voice nudged Percival back to reality. When he looked up, he saw the look of concern in her eyes behind her bright smile. She must have noted his somber mood and was trying to cheer him up, and for that he was grateful.

“I know enough,” he said, gazing intently at her. “I know your name, your love for your family and sweets. I would know more.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

They eventually moved closer to Isabella and Duncan, and Percival waved over the serving maid and paid for the refreshments the entire party had consumed.

“You did not have to,” Louisa murmured after he had bid her sister and her husband goodbye.

“I wanted to,” he reassured her. “I guess this is goodbye,” he said when his hired hackney arrived. “I will see you at the wedding.”

“I will see you at the wedding,” she echoed, waving as the vehicle pulled away.

In a few days, she would be married to this mysterious man, and she had years ahead of her to peel back the layers of his personality if he would let her.

She suspected she was up for a challenge, and for the life of her, she felt no fear, but rather a sense of anticipation.