Page 12 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
“Very well then,” she said, her voice firm. “I accept your proposal.”
“Good.” Wilhelm’s smile widened, a hint of triumph evident in his eyes. “I assure you that you will not regret your decision.” He turned to Marianne, his expression softening. “Lady Clowefield, I trust you will join us for the wedding ceremony?”
Marianne, still recovering from the whirlwind of events, managed a shaky nod. “Um, yes. I suppose I will, Your Grace.”
Wilhelm nodded curtly. “Excellent. Then I shall leave you ladies to prepare. The carriage will be here soon.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the parlor, leaving Genevieve and Marianne to stare after him in stunned silence.
Chapter Four
“Are you ready, Genevieve?” Owen asked, his voice gentle but unsteady as he reached for her hand, once again a comforting cloak against the storm swirling around her.
Genevieve looked nervously at the heavy oak doors of St. George’s church looming over her. She examined the dark, weathered surface that appeared to absorb the weak sunlight that filtered through the stained-glass windows.
A shiver ran down her spine—a tremor of apprehension that had nothing to do with the chill of the stone steps beneath her feet. She was there, but it felt like she had become trapped in a bad dream. Everything had happened so quickly.
Genevieve drew a shaky breath as she took in the church’s dimly lit interior.
It was a modest building, devoid of the grandeur and opulence she had always associated with weddings. Through a crack in the door, she peered at the handful of people seated in the pews, their faces shrouded by shadows.
Thomas sat among the group, a small beacon of familiarity. Her maids were there as well, as was Marianne. But on Wilhelm’s side, not a single soul was in attendance.
“Genevieve?” Owen’s voice broke through her thoughts, a hint of concern coloring his tone. “Are you certain about this? I mean, the Duke… well, he seems a bit…” He hesitated. “Odd.”
Genevieve forced a smile. “So am I, Owen,” she replied, her voice a touch too bright. “I was deemed cursed and shunned by the Ton.” A dry, humorless laugh escaped her lips. “The Duke was right, after all. We are remarkably alike in that respect.”
Owen drew in a breath. “I am aware, Genevieve, but?—”
“What choice do I have?” she interrupted him, putting a hand on his arm.
A penniless widow, cast aside by Society, with a vengeful cousin-in-law determined to strip me of everything I have left.
Owen furrowed his brow. “You always have a choice, Genevieve. Marianne and I would gladly?—”
“No,” Genevieve cut him off, her voice firm. “I will not burden you further. You have already risked enough by associating with me. The whispers, the stares, the accusations… they follow me like a shadow. I will not drag you further into it.”
Owen’s gaze softened. “Genevieve?—”
“Please, Owen.” She gave him a soft smile, her breath catching as she swallowed. “This is my only chance—my only hope—of escaping the clutches of Lord Mirfield.”
And with any luck, this will be my chance to forge a new path and create a life of my own.
Owen sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Very well, Genevieve. But if you ever need anything—anything at all—you know where to find us.”
Genevieve nodded as a lump formed in her throat. “I know, Owen. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you both for your kindness. For everything.”
He offered her his arm in a gesture of support and understanding. “Shall we?”
Genevieve took a deep breath, bracing herself for the unknown. “Yes,” she replied, her voice firm. “Let us get this over with.”
And pray that I am not making a grave mistake.
With a final glance at the church doors, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she walked towards her uncertain future.
The church doors creaked open as she entered, and a hush fell over the small gathering as she stepped into the dimly lit sanctuary.
Her footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, each of them heavy with the weight of the decision she had made. Her gaze swept over the sparse attendees and landed on the figure standing at the altar.
