Page 72 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
Genevieve’s head snapped up, disbelief etched on her features.
“Whatneededto be done?” Her voice trembled with growing fury. “Using me as a tool? Exploiting the whispers of a curse that have followed me my whole life?”
He straightened, his gaze dark and unflinching. “Yes, Genevieve. The world thinks you are cursed, and I saw an opportunity. I used it.”
Her breath hitched, her face contorting with betrayal. “So that’s all I am to you? A weapon to wield?”
Wilhelm’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “Do not misunderstand me. You are far more valuable than that.” He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “But I will not deny the truth. The Ton’s fear of you works in our favor. Together, we wield a power they cannot ignore. You shouldembracethat power instead of shying away from it.”
Genevieve’s chest tightened as the weight of his words crushed her. She laughed bitterly—a sound devoid of humor.
“Embrace it? When you do not even see me beyond it?” Her voice broke, her tears falling freely now.
“You do not understand?—”
“No,youdo not understand!” she snapped, cutting him off, her body trembling with anger. “I have spentyearsof my life being shunned, whispered about, treated as less than human becauseof this curse. And now, the one person I thought might see past all of that… only sees what he can gain from it.”
He took another step towards her, his dark eyes glinting with frustration. “This is not personal, Genevieve. I have enemies who would tear us apart without hesitation. I need every advantage to ensure that they fail. That includes the fear you inspire.”
“This is not personal?” she repeated, her voice rising in anguish. “Do you even hear yourself? I thought—” She stopped, biting her lower lip hard.
“YouthoughtI was a fool who could afford weakness,” Wilhelm said, his voice razor-sharp. “You thought love or sentiment would save you. They won’t. Not in this world.”
Her heart broke a little more at his words, but she refused to let him see her crumble.
She lifted her chin, her voice trembling but defiant. “I cannot stay here, Wilhelm. Not like this. Not if all I am to you is a tool to wield against your enemies.”
Wilhelm’s nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply. He reached for her arm but then stopped short, clenching his fist at his side instead.
“Leaving solves nothing, Genevieve,” he said, his voice low and steely. “I do not need to convince you to stay. You know I am right.”
She stepped back, shaking her head. “You may be right about your enemies, but you are wrong about me. I am not just a weapon in your war. I am more than your pawn, Wilhelm. And if you cannot see that…”
Her voice cracked, her composure shattering.
“Then I cannot stay.”
With that, she turned and walked away, her tears blurring her vision.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“We have arrived at Clowefield Hall, Your Grace,” the driver announced.
The carriage rolled to a stop before the grand estate of Clowefields, its stately façade gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
Genevieve sat frozen in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as the weight of her emotions threatened to crush her.
She barely noticed the footman opening the door until the cool breeze brushed against her flushed cheeks.
“Your Grace?” he prompted gently, offering his hand.
Genevieve swallowed hard and accepted his help, stepping onto the gravel drive with unsteady feet.
She glanced toward the entrance, where Marianne stood waiting, her pale blue gown fluttering in the breeze. Her friend’s face was etched with concern, and in that moment, Genevieve felt the first crack in the dam of her composure.
“Genevieve!” Marianne called, rushing forward and grasped Genevieve’s hands, her touch warm and grounding. “What did he say?”
Genevieve shook her head, unable to speak. Her throat burned with the effort of holding back tears, and she bit her lip until she tasted copper.
