Page 27 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
“Thank you,” she murmured as she stepped back from the table.
With a curtsy, she turned on her heels and fled the breakfast room.
The carriage ride to Clowefield passed in a haze of swirling emotions.
Genevieve’s mind would not stop replaying the events of the previous night in relentless loops, dissecting and analyzing every word, each touch, and all of their lingering glances. The confusion had settled deep within her, knotting her thoughts together. She needed Marianne more than ever.
“Genevieve!” Marianne squealed joyfully as she ran to hug her, pulling her into a warm embrace while bombarding her with questions.
Genevieve was unable to contain her emotions any longer. “I have so much to tell you.”
Marianne’s eyes glinted with excitement. “Come, I will have the servants prepare tea.” She tugged her towards the sofa. “Now, tell me everything.”
Genevieve, unable to keep the flood of thoughts inside any longer, poured her heart out to her friend. She recounted every detail, from the fateful night in the library to the kiss, the lingering confusion, and the unsettling shifts in the Duke’s mood since their wedding.
Marianne listened with unwavering attention, furrowing her brow in concern at her every word, her silence offering Genevieve the space to unravel the tangled mess of emotions inside of her.
“My darling friend,” she began, her voice laced with worry, “I do not understand the Duke’s behavior either. It seems rather erratic.”
Genevieve nodded in agreement. “I cannot read him. And every time I ask him about his intentions, he says it is not yet the right time for such a discussion.”
Marianne’s gaze softened. “Be careful, Genevieve,” she cautioned, her voice gentle. “The Duke is a cunning man. Do not let him take advantage of you.”
“I will not let him break me,” Genevieve murmured, more to reassure herself than anything else.
Marianne gently put her hand over Genevieve’s. “I know, my dear friend. You are much stronger than you think. You have already survived so much. You are no longer the woman that you once were, and you must not let him make you feel like you are.”
The words were simple but grounded in truth.
Genevieve nodded, the tightness in her chest easing ever so slightly. She had always thought of herself as fragile, easily swayed by the people around her. But that was before herparents died, before her uncle’s deception, and before her first marriage. Her growth after each tragedy had helped her to understand what real strength was.
Now, she was learning to stand her ground.
Marianne smiled softly. “I know you will make the right decisions.” She squeezed Genevieve’s hand before standing up. “Come, let us enjoy our tea, shall we? You need a moment to breathe.”
Genevieve allowed Marianne to guide her gently towards the small sitting room, grateful for the care and comfort that her friend so freely provided.
As the steam from the tea rose in delicate tendrils, Genevieve’s thoughts drifted back to her husband’s lips, and a giddy feeling coursed through her body and made her tingle all the way down to her toes.
She knew she should feel embarrassed and ashamed for allowing herself to linger on such thoughts, but the memory filled her with yearning. She wanted to feel herself soar once again from the heat of his touch and the intensity of the kiss that had left her breathless.
Her heart ached at her friend’s concern, but she could not deny the truth in her words. She had a history of being betrayed and treated shoddily by family members and friends that she had trusted. She could not afford to let down her guard around a powerful man like Wilhelm.
Marianne offered her a warm smile. “Remember, my dear, Owen and I will always be here for you.”
In a world where everything felt uncertain, Marianne had always been Genevieve’s safe harbor. No matter how many trials life threw her way, Genevieve knew that she could rely on her friend. Marianne’s loyalty had never wavered.
At that moment, Genevieve found comfort in the knowledge that, no matter how complicated her world became, at least one person completely understood her and genuinely cared about her welfare.
The carriage ride back to Ravenshire passed in a blur, the rhythmic motion of the wheels providing a calming counterpoint to the maelstrom in her mind. She found herself gazing out the carriage window and appreciating the soft, golden hues of the sunset as it spilled over the trees.
There was something oddly comforting in the way the fading light kissed the landscape, and despite the looming, melancholy atmosphere, she found herself becoming fond of Ravenshire.
Upon her return to the manor, she found Anna eagerly waiting to greet her.
“Your Grace.” The maid bowed her head. “I have a message for you, Your Grace. From… the Duke.”
Genevieve blinked. “Go on.”
