Page 60 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
They burst into laughter again, the sound echoing through the grand dining hall, chasing away the lingering shadows of formality and apprehension.
“And I, in turn, assure you, Lord Gaverton,” Genevieve chimed in, her eyes sparkling with playful confidence, “that the beast is quite tame. In fact…” She paused. “I find him quite manageable.”
Wilhelm suppressed a grin and feigned umbrage at their attack.
“Do I appear to be someone who can be managed?” he said as he raised his eyebrows and placed one hand over his heart. “Duchess, I am deeply wounded by your lack of faith in my ferocity.”
Genevieve’s melodious laughter filled the room, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson that rivaled the hue of the wine in her glass.
“Do not fret, Your Grace,” she retorted teasingly. “I have witnessed your ferocity firsthand. It is quite impressive, to say the least.”
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Marianne and Owen exchanged amused glances at the blatant scene unfolding before them.
Kenneth, ever the jovial observer, could not resist a playful jab.
“My word, Ravenshire!” he exclaimed in mock astonishment. “It seems your icy exterior has melted faster than a snowflake on a summer day.”
Wilhelm feigned a look of annoyance.
“Gaverton,” he admonished in a playful tone, “do not tempt me.”
Another wave of laughter erupted around the table. Marianne wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes with her napkin. Owen looked at Genevieve and Wilhelm, and also could not contain his amusement.
“I must say, Genevieve,” he said laughingly, “you seem to have a rather remarkable effect on His Grace.”
Genevieve’s eyes dropped to her plate as a shy smile curved her lips. Wilhelm, his own smile widening, reached across the table, his fingers gently stroking the back of her hand.
“Indeed,” he murmured, his voice a low caress that sent shivers down her spine. “She has a way of…” He turned to Kenneth. “Do not, Gaverton.”
Kenneth gasped, widening his eyes in mock horror.
“Oh, Your Grace,” he exclaimed, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me!” He turned to Owen, his expression the picture of aggrieved innocence. “Can you believe the audacity of this man, Lord Clowefield?”
Owen chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well… Lord Gaverton,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, “I would not put it past you. After all, you have a certain reputation for mischief.”
Marianne grinned and added, “Indeed, Lord Gaverton. We have all heard tales of your charm and charisma. It is a wonder any lady could ever resist your advances.”
Kenneth threw his hands up in mock despair. “Alas,” he lamented, “I am not humble enough to deny it.”
Genevieve giggled as Wilhelm grabbed her hand and squeezed it, looking at her with a subtle smile.
As the final course was cleared away and the dessert trays were presented, the conversation flowed effortlessly, their laughter and banter weaving a new tapestry of friendship and shared happiness.
“Ah, yes, Ravenshire in his youth,” Kenneth began, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “A veritable iceberg of a man. He moved through the world with a chilling aloofness, his gaze as sharp as a winter wind, his words as cutting as shards of ice.”
He paused, swirling the wine in his glass, a dramatic gesture that captured the attention of the room.
“I recall a particular incident,” he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “involving a young lady—quite smitten with our dear Duke, I might add. She approached him at a ball, her eyes filled with admiration, her heart aflutter with hope. But Ravenshire, with a single glacial glance and a curt dismissal, shattered her dreams faster than a candle flame extinguished by a sudden gust of wind.”
A collective gasp filled the room. Genevieve’s eyes widened in surprise, her eyes darting towards Wilhelm, who merely shrugged and smirked as Kenneth unraveled the tale of woe.
“It was a sight to behold,” Kenneth continued, relishing the memory. “The poor girl, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, fled the ballroom in tears. And Ravenshire, unfazed, merely returned to his brandy, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever.”
Genevieve glanced at Wilhelm, who met her gaze with a tenderness that made her heart skip a beat.
“You know, Duchess,” Kenneth declared, raising his glass in a mock toast, “I had never seen him smile before you moved into this mansion.”
“Is that so?” Genevieve asked.
