“His Grace instructed me to tell you that you shall be attending a ball next week.”
Chapter Ten
“Aball, you say?” Genevieve echoed, her voice laced with surprise and apprehension.
Anna nodded. “Indeed, Your Grace. Lord Harrington’s annual ball. I have been told that it will be quite the event.”
Genevieve’s mind raced.
A ball. So soon?
She had barely had time to get used to her new life as a duchess, and the Duke was already expecting her to put herself under the abrasive scrutiny of the Ton. And alongside him, no less—a man whose return had stirred its own share of rumors.
The thought made her shiver.
“His Grace has instructed me to inform you that you must arrange a visit to the local modiste and purchase a new gown for the occasion. He will, of course, cover the expenses.”
Genevieve nodded, considering her options, when a spark of an idea suddenly grew in her mind.
A ball could be more than just an obligation—it could be her chance to step out of the shadows and reclaim her place in Society. She could not help but wonder how the Ton would react when they saw her beside Wilhelm.
After all, Wilhelm was still very much alive. That indisputable fact might be enough to improve her reputation and dispel the rumors that she was cursed.
I will attend the ball and hold my head high. I will show the Ton that I am not the broken, cursed woman they whisper about. I am the Duchess of Ravenshire, and I will no longer permit the Ton to malign or devalue me.
“Very well, Anna,” she declared in a firm voice. “I shall visit the village tomorrow. I believe that a change of scenery will do me some good.”
The following morning, Genevieve and Anna ventured into the quaint village of Ravenshire. The cobblestone streets were filled with shopkeepers, patrons, and their children. Although greyclouds had eclipsed the sun, the air was filled with the sounds of chatter, laughter, and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages.
Genevieve’s spirits lifted as she strolled through the village. She marveled at the charming cottages, the quaint shops, and the vibrant flower boxes that adorned the windowsills. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur and formality of the manor and a welcome respite from the oppressive mood that had clung to her since her arrival.
As she wandered through the bustling marketplace, she could not help but notice the curious glances and hushed whispers that followed her. But unlike the judgmental stares she had endured in London, the townspeople looked at her with curiosity and admiration.
“That is the Duchess,” she overheard one woman whisper to her companion. “The Duke’s new wife.”
“She is quite lovely, is she not?” The woman’s companion smiled and nodded approvingly.
Genevieve’s lips curled into a subtle smile. The rumors about her ‘curse’ had clearly not reached this quiet corner of the countryside. Or, she mused, the villagers were simply more accepting and not influenced by the whispers of the Ton.
As she continued her stroll, a group of young children approached her, their faces bright with excitement.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” they chorused, their voices filled with awe.
Genevieve’s heart swelled at their innocent greeting, and she kneeled down to smile at them.
“Good morning,” she replied, her voice gentle and kind.
“We are so glad that you have come to Ravenshire,” one of the children declared, his eyes shining with admiration.
“Yes,” another child chimed in. “The Duke has been so lonely since his father passed. He has not come to visit us in quite some time.”
Genevieve’s heart ached for Wilhelm, a pang of sympathy replacing her earlier apprehension. He was a powerful and enigmatic duke, but he was also a man who had known loss and loneliness, just as she had.
“His Grace is wonderful,” a third child proclaimed with unwavering conviction. “He is always fair and kind to us.”
Genevieve’s curiosity was piqued. “Is he?” she inquired, her voice laced with a hint of skepticism.
The children nodded in unison. “Oh, yes,” they chorused. “He the best Duke we have ever had.”
