Page 19 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
Genevieve gave her a soft smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Anna.”
The girl glanced briefly at Genevieve and said, “A bath has been drawn for you.”
Genevieve nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” she replied.
The maid gestured for her to follow and then led her into a room that was almost as large as her bedroom.
Genevieve’s eyes were immediately drawn to the gleaming copper tub and the steaming, fragranced water within, positioned perfectly before a crackling fireplace.
The maid assisted her in undressing, her hands surprisingly agile and gentle as she helped Genevieve step into the warm,aromatic water dotted with lavender flowers that floated on its surface.
Genevieve sank gratefully into the soothing depths, her muscles relaxing as the stress from the long, eventful day gradually faded away.
“So, do tell me,” she began, a playful lilt in her voice, “what is the Duke like?”
The maid stiffened and fixed her gaze on the floor. “I… I do not know, Your Grace,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing.
Genevieve chuckled, and a mischievous glint twinkled in her eyes. “Oh, do not be coy,” she teased. “Surely you must have an opinion of your master.”
The maid remained silent, wringing her hands nervously as Genevieve luxuriated in the tub’s steamy water. She watched Anna patiently and waited for her response.
“Is he a tyrant?” Genevieve pressed, her voice laced with mock horror. “Does he lock his servants in the dungeons when they disappoint him?”
The maid’s eyes widened in alarm. “No, Your Grace!” she exclaimed as she shook her head. “The Duke is a fair and just master.”
Genevieve smiled as her amusement grew. “I see,” she drawled lazily, her eyes sparkling. “Then why are you so afraid of him?”
The maid’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson. “I… I am not afraid of him, Your Grace,” she stammered, her gaze still fixed on the bathing room floor.
Genevieve chuckled at Anna’s reluctance to engage in her playful banter.
“Very well,” she sighed, releasing Anna from the conversation as her voice adopted a more solemn tone. “I suppose I have no choice but to see for myself.”
Following her bath, Genevieve was escorted to a small sitting area within her chambers, where warm, inviting candlelight shone invitingly on an intimate dining table that had been polished to a high sheen. It had been laden with an array of dishes so lavish that they could have rivaled a royal banquet.
The intoxicatingly rich aroma of roast meats and spiced vegetables hung in the air and mingled with the delicate scent of fresh herbs.
“This is truly exquisite,” she stated as her fingers hovered over the steaming dishes.
She glanced at Mrs. Hughes, who stood silently beside the door, her back perfectly straight and her hands folded in front of her like a sentinel.
Genevieve smiled at the woman gratefully. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice filled with unspoken appreciation.
Mrs. Hughes gave a stiff nod but did not avert her gaze. “It is my duty, Your Grace. Should you require anything further, simply ring for me.”
Genevieve’s stomach made a soft rumble at the sight and aroma of the delectable dishes before her. Her gaze swept over the table, lingering on the rich array of food, the shimmering silverware, and the delicate plates and serving platters.
She could not help but admire the riches before her, but the beauty of it felt distant, like something that belonged to another world.
With careful movements, she approached the table and sank into the chair, the cushion absorbing her weight. Her hands hovered briefly over the fine linen napkin, her fingers hesitating before they smoothed it over her lap.
As her eyes darted around the room, she took in its silent corners and the empty chair across from her. Her gaze lingered there a moment longer, silently willing someone to appear.
Where was the Duke?
The unsettling question lingered in her mind.
She glanced again at the empty chair across from her as her fingers absently traced the rim of her glass.
