Page 20 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
Is this how the first night of marriage is meant to go?
A flicker of doubt gnawed at her as she surveyed the lavish table.
I am a bride, dining alone on her wedding night.
The thought rang uncomfortably in her mind.
She barely knew him. They had officially met, for the first time, this morning.
Why did he marry me?
The question churned inside her, and a knot tightened in her chest. He had not even offered an answer when she had finally dared to ask.
She debated asking the housekeeper whether he would join her, but then quickly decided against it. The question churned relentlessly in her mind until she could no longer keep it contained.
“Mrs. Hughes?” Genevieve turned to the housekeeper, who still stood quietly next to the door.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Mrs. Hughes turned her blank eyes towards Genevieve.
“Does the Duke intend to join me for dinner tonight?” Genevieve bit her lip, instantly regretting the question.
Mrs. Hughes’ eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at Genevieve, though her dour expression remained unchanged.
“I am afraid that the Duke will not be able to join you tonight, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hughes said, her voice softening several degrees. “He truly hopes that you will enjoy your dinner.”
Genevieve’s breath caught for a moment. With a soft sigh, she replied, “I see,” and reached for the first dish, her fingers lightly brushing the gleaming porcelain plate.
Will I ever belong here?
Chapter Seven
“Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in,” the Marquess of Gaverton’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he strolled into the dimly lit tavern, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“If it isn’t the Duke of Ravenshire, once again gracing us with his esteemed presence.”
Wilhelm remained seated at a secluded corner table as the tavern’s shadows danced around him. He slowly twirled his glass of brandy as a smirk formed on his lips, and he raised an eyebrow.
“Ah, Lord Gaverton, right on time,” he drawled, his voice low and steady in the quiet tavern. “I had expected you to be stirring up mischief among the Ton, Kenneth. I am surprised that you remembered to attend our meeting.”
Kenneth chuckled and pulled up a chair opposite Wilhelm. “Mischief? Me?” He put a hand over his heart in mock surprise, his eyes sparkling. “Never.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“That being said, I am a bit disappointed that you did not invite me to your wedding. I do enjoy a good spectacle, especially when it involves a reluctant bride and a brooding duke.”
Wilhelm’s expression immediately hardened. “The wedding was a private affair,” he stated in a clipped voice. “It was a matter of necessity, not a public display.”
Kenneth raised his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, lighten up, Ravenshire,” he chided, his grin widening. “Just a bit of friendly ribbing. Though I am intrigued. What is the story behind this sudden union? Is it true what they say about the new Duchess? Is she truly cursed?”
Wilhelm’s jaw clenched as his patience quickly wore thin. “The Duchess is none of your concern, Gaverton,” he retorted, his voice a low growl. “And I would advise you to refrain from spreading idle gossip.”
Kenneth’s grin faltered and was replaced by a look of understanding. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. “Of course. Business as always, Your Grace.”
Wilhelm nodded curtly. “Indeed,” he muttered, regaining his composure. “Now, shall we discuss the matter at hand?”
Kenneth’s expression turned serious. “By all means,” he agreed, his voice suddenly calm and focused. “I trust that you have received word that your acquisition is proceeding smoothly?”
“I have you to confirm that, do I not?” Wilhelm’s eyes snapped up, fixing on Kenneth as he poured himself a drink.
