Page 26 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
Chapter Nine
“Good morning, Duchess,” Wilhelm greeted from behind, his voice unusually cheerful.
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the breakfast room, casting a warm glow on the polished mahogany table laden with an array of delectable dishes.
Genevieve sat stiffly in her chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her gaze fixed on the untouched plate before her.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice stiff and formal.
The events of the previous night kept replaying in her mind, accompanied by a whirlwind of emotions that she could not explain. The library, the kiss, the Duke’s touch—it had all been so unexpected and overwhelming.
She had fled his presence, seeking refuge in her chambers, forcing herself to get some rest, but sleep had eluded her. She had been consumed by the memory of his lips on hers, the warmth of his hands on her skin as he pulled her towards him.
As he pulled out his chair and sat down, her gaze remained fixed on her plate.
Genevieve felt his eyes burning holes into her forehead. She kept her eyes downcast, unwilling to acknowledge his presence.
The deafening silence grew in the dining room like a dense fog. She knew he was waiting for her to say something, but she could not find the right words.
After what felt like an eternity, Wilhelm turned his attention to his food, picked up his fork, and began to eat.
Their silence was only interrupted by the soft clinking of silverware against porcelain and the occasional discreet cough from a servant hovering nearby.
“I trust you slept well?” Wilhelm inquired, his voice carefully neutral.
Genevieve’s lips tightened. “Well enough,” she replied curtly as she picked through her meal.
The events of the previous night still burned brightly in her mind, resurfacing from the depths where she had tried to bury them. She needed to regain her emotional footing.
All she could think about was the way his hands had felt as he caressed her skin and the rush of need she had experienced when he pressed his lips against hers. His deep, sultry voice echoed in her mind and made her weak with desire.
Listening to Wilhelm casually making small talk over the breakfast table as though nothing had happened only served to accelerate her thoughts until she believed her head would explode.
Genevieve gathered the shreds of her tattered composure and lifted her head to look at him, softly cleared her throat, and began to speak.
“I am going to visit the Clowefields today,” she announced in a firm voice.
Wilhelm slowly raised his head, looked at her with surprise, and raised his eyebrows. “The Clowefields?”
Genevieve nodded curtly. “Indeed. I trust you have no objections to my plans?”
Wilhelm shrugged. “When will you return?”
“I shall return by nightfall.”
Wilhelm nodded. “Very well,” he agreed. “Enjoy your visit, Duchess.”
Was that a challenge?
As Genevieve stared at him, he remained focused on his breakfast, his knife and fork slicing through the food with meticulous care, and he did not spare a glance in her direction.
A flicker of frustration stirred within her. Was he waiting for her to speak? For her to break the silence so that he could tell her she was not allowed to leave?
There was no way she would back down, not after everything she had been through since arriving at Ravenshire.
When their eyes finally met, she noticed that his expression had softened. He appeared gentler and a bit crestfallen by her announcement.
Genevieve rose from her chair, her movements stiff and deliberate. She could no longer bear to linger in his presence as long as the memory of their kiss still burned in her mind.
