Page 55 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
“You don’t have to relive this, Genevieve,” he soothed.
“I need to,” she insisted, her voice gaining strength. “I need to tell you, as you have told me.”
Wilhelm squeezed her hand to give her the strength she needed to continue.
She took another deep breath, the warmth of the fire seeping into her chilled bones.
“My parents… my sisters… they were gone. And it was not just me. My best friends—Sophia and Rosaline—were in the carriages behind ours.” She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears. “They, too, were branded as cursed. In the eyes of the Ton, we were a coven of witches. The Ton forced them to leave London just to escape the rumors. I, however, had nowhere else to go.”
Her gaze met Wilhelm’s, her eyes filled with pain so sharp, it felt as if needles were puncturing her soul.
“They were taken away from me, Wilhelm,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “My cousin Rosaline, my friend Sophia… they were whisked away, hidden from the world, their lives shattered by the whispers and accusations of the Ton. Just like mine.”
Wilhelm’s heart ached for her, his experiences of loss and isolation resonating with her pain. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the tear stains on her cheeks.
“And your father’s heir?” he prompted, his voice a soft encouragement.
Genevieve’s expression hardened, and she pursed her lips as the memories of her life with her uncle resurfaced.
“My uncle? Oh, he was a despicable man,” she said bitterly. “He saw me as nothing more than a pawn, a means to pay off the family’s debts.”
She shuddered, the phantom touch of her uncle’s hand sending a wave of revulsion through her. “He controlled my every move, dictated my every action, and sought to mold me into a perfect, obedient wife for his own gain.”
Her voice cracked, the tears threatening to spill once more.
“I felt so trapped, Wilhelm,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Suffocated. And I had no way of escaping it. I had nowhere to go.”
Wilhelm’s heart ached for her. He pulled her close, his embrace a haven of warmth and safety.
Genevieve clung to him, her tears soaking his shirt, her body trembling with both relief and gratitude.
Wilhelm’s lips brushed against hers, gentle and unhurried, a kiss that whispered farewell to everything they had endured and left behind. His warmth grounded her in a present that, for the first time, finally allowed her to breathe.
As they parted, his earnest gaze searched hers, imparting a promise of love, honor, safety, and kindness that made her heart soar.
“You are safe now, Genevieve.” His words finally dispelled the storm that had been raging within her for years.
As he stroked her hair, the tension in her body slowly began to ease. She felt hollowed out but not empty, the pain in her soul exorcized by Wilhelm’s patient care.
“I will not let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Wilhelm,” Genevieve began, her voice soft and warm, breaking the tranquil hush of the breakfast room.
She leaned towards him, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“I was thinking, if you are willing, we could invite Marianne and Owen for dinner.”
Her grin widened as she batted her eyelashes, the gesture deliberately playful, coaxing him with her charm.
Wilhelm’s fingers curled around the steaming teacup, his gaze fixed on it as he raised an eyebrow.
“A dinner party?” He winced and made a face. “The truth is I am not particularly inclined towards social gatherings at the moment.”
Genevieve looked crestfallen, and she frowned at him.
“But,” she persisted, her voice soft yet firm, “they are my dearest friends. And their estate is but a short distance from Ravenshire. It seems a shame not to take advantage of their proximity.” She paused, looking directly at him. “And I really miss them.”
