Page 2 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
“We should turn back!” he bellowed over the cacophony.
The carriage lurched violently to the right, one wheel plunging into a deep rut hidden by the rising water. Muddy water sprayed across the windows as the horses whinnied in terror.
“Father!” Genevieve screamed, her voice raw with panic.
The carriage swerved, now lurching dangerously to the left as the driver struggled to steady the horses. The frantic whinnying of the horses pierced the air, drowning out the echoes of their gasping breaths.
Suddenly, in a heart-stopping moment that became suspended in time, a deafening crash sounded as the carriage overturned and they were pitched into the roiling, water-filled ditch.
The air was knocked out of Genevieve’s lungs as a crushing weight pressed against her chest. Her legs were pinned to the carriage wall, and her head spun as it hit the wooden rail.
The rain fell unmercifully, a relentless torrent mingling with the chaotic sounds of splintering wood and their screams of pain and fear.
“Mama!” she shrieked, reaching one hand out into the pitch blackness as the metallic taste of blood coated her mouth.
And then, everything went black and silent.
Two Years Later
“At last, I am unburdening myself from you, Genevieve.” Her uncle’s voice was as cold as the marble pillars of the church behind them.
He adjusted his gloves with deliberate care, his eyes scanning her as if she were a piece of wares finally sold off.
“Now, see to it that you don’t disgrace me any further—or yourself.”
Genevieve’s hands trembled at her sides, but she clasped them tightly to steady herself.
“I won’t, Uncle Peregrine,” she murmured, her voice steady, though her nails bit into her palms.
Her uncle scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. “You always claim that, yet disaster clings to you like a leech. How often have you shown yourself capable of nothing but calamity?” He shook his head, his words dripping with venom. “A complete burden. That’s what you’ve been, Genevieve. A suffocating weight, dragging me down into disrepute.”
Genevieve lowered her gaze to the ground as the sting of his words burned within her chest.
Lord Hindport—the title her uncle inherited after her father’s death—took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low hiss. “Icannot tell you the relief I feel at washing my hands of you. Your new husband can bear the weight of your ineptitudes now, though I have no doubt you’ll find a way to muck that up too.”
Genevieve said nothing, shielding herself in silence. She wanted to retort, to shout that she was better than the cruel picture he painted, but years under his thumb had taught her the futility of such efforts. Instead, she dipped her head in an obedient nod, a gesture that only seemed to stoke his ire further.
“Get into the carriage,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. “Go and prove me wrong, if you can.”
Genevieve turned on her heel and ascended the steps to the waiting carriage without a word, her skirts rustling faintly as she moved. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to breathe evenly.
This was the last time she would endure his insults.
The thought should have brought her comfort, but as she climbed into the carriage and settled across from her husband, an unsettling feeling crept over her.
Lord Mirfield’s complexion was ashen, beads of sweat clinging to his brow despite the cool spring air.
His half-closed eyes darted to hers briefly, filled with something she couldn’t name. Then, he looked away, his lips pressed together into a thin, bloodless line.
Genevieve studied him quietly, her unease growing. His complexion was almost ashen, and he seemed unable to meet her gaze for more than a fleeting moment.
“Are you unwell, My Lord?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent.
Lord Mirfield flinched at her words, his fingers tightening around the polished cane he held.
“I am fine,” he muttered, gripping his cane tighter, though the tremor in his voice said otherwise.
“We’re all done, My Lady,” Lily, her new lady’s maid, said softly, stepping back as she finished arranging Genevieve’s hair.
