Page 4 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
The housekeeper rushed in, her eyes immediately landing on the scene before her. She staggered back, her expression shifting from shock to fury as her gaze settled on Genevieve.
“Witch!” she shrieked, trembling as she pointed at Genevieve. “You cursed him—you cursed us all!”
Chapter One
TWO YEARS LATER
“Imust say, Marianne, this is the most delightful Earl Grey tea I have tasted in ages,” Genevieve remarked, her voice as smooth as the fine porcelain cup that rested in her hands. “Wherever did you purchase it?”
Marianne, the Countess of Clowefield, leaned back in her chair with an amused grin. “It is merely Earl Grey, my dear Genevieve. Not much to it.”
Genevieve chuckled, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Indeed, but it seems to have worked wonders on my spirits. I have not felt this light in ages.”
“As it should,” Owen, the Earl of Clowefield and Marianne’s husband, chimed in. “A cup of tea and good company is the perfect remedy for any ailment.”
The trio sat together in the elegant drawing room of Marianne’s London townhouse, enjoying a quiet afternoon tea as sunlightstreamed through the tall windows and cast a warm glow on the plush furnishings and delicate floral arrangements.
Genevieve cherished these moments, grateful for their company after spending far too much time cloistered within the confines of her London residence.
“Shall we take a stroll through Hyde Park?” Marianne suggested, her gaze drifting towards the window. “The weather is simply divine. It is a sin to remain indoors.”
Genevieve hesitated, a shadow of apprehension crossing her face. “Perhaps a walk would not be the wisest decision. We could do it… another time.”
“Oh, come now, Genevieve,” Owen urged. “You cannot hide indoors forever.”
Marianne nodded in agreement. “A bit of fresh air will do you a world of good.”
Genevieve nodded with a resigned sigh, knowing they were right. She had been avoiding the Ton for far too long, overwhelmed by their constant whispers and stares. Even the thought of mingling with them had become unbearable.
“Very well,” she conceded, rising from her seat. “A short walk, then.”
As they stepped outside and began to traverse the bustling streets of London, the sun gently bathed Genevieve’s face in its warmth.
However, her heart began to race, and her cheeks flushed nervously as they crossed Hyde Park’s threshold.
She shrank in on herself as she listened to the whispers that followed them.
A familiar face passed her by. Her heart swelled at the sight, but it seemed he hadn’t noticed her.
“Alfred,” she called softly.
He turned his head briefly, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment, a nervous tension evident in his gaze.
“Lady Mirfield,” he muttered, tipping his hat.
“How have you—” Genevieve began, but he was already gone, his pace far more rushed than it had been when she’d spotted him.
He hadn’t even spared her another glance.
Alfred—Lord Shelton now—was her childhood friend. Their families had summered in neighboring estates for many years.
But now…
He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her for more than an instant. Their shared history meant nothing to him now.
The rumors had already cast their shadow, and he, like everyone else, seemed repelled, as though their past had been erased.
The people who had once openly admired her now quickly averted their gazes and spoke in hushed tones behind cupped, gloved hands and fluttering fans.
