Page 78 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
Genevieve’s gaze dropped to the ground. She wanted to tell him, to unburden herself, but the words felt too heavy to speak.
“It is complicated,” she said finally.
Kenneth stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm.
“Your Grace, if something is wrong, you can tell me. You do not have to carry it alone.”
She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“He told you, didn’t he?” Genevieve’s voice was quiet, yet there was an edge to it—accusing, pained. “About what he planned to do with me. You are business partners after all.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Kenneth asked in confusion.
“That he wanted to marry me only to instill fear in his enemies. That I was only a tool in his vengeful plan.”
Kenneth frowned, his brows pulling together.
“I did not know this, Your Grace. Not explicitly. The Duke…” He paused, shaking his head as if searching for the right words. “He has always been a man with a strategy, always thinking two steps ahead of everyone else. But if I had known he meant to use you?—”
“You wouldn’t have stopped him,” Genevieve cut in, her voice sharper now. “You wouldn’t have thought it mattered.”
“That is not fair.” Kenneth’s tone was firm but without anger. “You know me better than that.”
“No, My Lord, I do not,” the words escaped her mouth, her tone cold.
Kenneth frowned, “Well then. I must amend that. Please tell me what he told you.”
Genevieve hesitated. This man worked with Wilhelm. Surely he was on the Duke’s side. And yet… From what she had seen, Lord Gaverton seemed like a kind man.
Finally, she took in a breath and exhaled before she spoke.
“He admitted it,” she said, her voice trembling. “He said… he said it was for my good. That using me to manipulate his enemies was necessary, that it would protect me in the end. As if that makes it better.”
Kenneth’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened. “He actually said that?”
She nodded, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. “He didn’t even try to deny it. And when I told him I could not stay—not after everything—he simply… he let me go. Like it never mattered.”
Kenneth muttered something under his breath, sharp and low, before turning his gaze back to her.
“That bloody fool,” he said, his voice taut with restrained anger.
Genevieve felt her face soften. The emotions on the Marquess’ face were genuine.
“It doesn’t matter, My Lord,” Genevieve said, her voice quieter now, laced with exhaustion. “I left. It is over. The Duke and I shall have separate lives from now on. You do not need to waste your time being angry on my behalf.”
Kenneth shook his head, his expression resolute. “It does matter. You matter. And if Ravenshire cannot see that…” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “No. It is time I paid him a visit.”
“Don’t,” Genevieve said quickly, her voice rising. “You will be wasting your breath. He will not change.”
“Maybe not,” Kenneth said, his tone softening slightly as he looked at her, but there was an unyielding determination in his eyes. “But someone needs to remind him that happiness isn’t a game of strategy. It is not something you win by sacrificing the people who care for you. It is time that bastard went after it for himself—for you. And it is damn well time you experienced some happiness too.”
Genevieve stared at him, her lips parting as though to protest, but the words wouldn’t come.
There was something so unwavering in Kenneth’s expression that it stole the breath from her chest.
Before she could say anything, he stepped back, nodding firmly.
“It was a pleasure seeing you, Your Grace,” he said, his voice lighter now, as if trying to leave her with a semblance of calm. “I assure you, I am letting this go.”
