Genevieve’s heart fluttered, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Nor I, Your Grace,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
She watched as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Ravenshire’s grand entrance. She was surprised that the imposing mansion now seemed less like a prison and more like a sanctuary.
Wilhelm stepped out and extended a hand to help her out of the carriage.
As she emerged from the carriage, he held her hand for a long moment and smiled at her tenderly. A tingling warmth spread through her chest and radiated outwards, leaving her breathless.
“Genevieve,” he murmured huskily.
Before she could respond, he brazenly leaned forward and captured her lips in a long, tender kiss. She giggled at the hushed gasps that came from the servants, who waited patiently before the grand front door.
At this rate, they will most certainly have much to talk about.
When he finally pulled away, his gaze searched hers, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. Genevieve answered him with a meaningful nod.
They entered the grand foyer, which no longer looked as intimidating as it had upon her initial arrival. Wilhelm held her hand and led her towards the staircase.
“Mrs. Hughes,” he greeted the housekeeper, his voice surprisingly warm. “I trust you have ensured that the Duchess’s chambers were prepared for her return?”
Mrs. Hughes curtsied respectfully, her stern expression softening slightly. “I have, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice a touch less severe than usual. “The Duchess’s chambers were prepared as you had instructed.”
Wilhelm nodded and looked at Genevieve tenderly. “Excellent,” he murmured. “Then I shall leave you to settle in, Duchess. Regretfully, I have several matters to which I must attend.”
Genevieve’s heart sank, and a wave of disappointment washed over her. She had hoped to spend more time with him and bask in the warmth of their newfound connection. However, she understood the importance of his duties and was aware of the responsibilities that weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“Of course,” she replied. “I shall see you later, Your Grace.”
His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, “I eagerly await our next encounter, my dear Duchess.”
A shiver ran down her spine, and her heart fluttered with anticipation. She sighed as she watched him disappear down the hallway.
“Anna,” she called, her voice echoing through the vast foyer, “would you assist me with a bath?”
The maid appeared moments later, her face alight with a smile. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice filled with unexpected warmth.
Genevieve followed her to the bathing room, where Anna assisted her in removing her clothing and offered her a large, soft towel and a bar of lavender soap.
As Genevieve sank into the steaming bathwater, her thoughts drifted back to the events of the previous night. The storm, her overwhelming fear, and the safety of Wilhelm’s embrace now felt like a surreal and distant dream.
However, the memory of his touch, the warmth of his lips, the tenderness in his eyes, and the feel of his magical tongue as it traveled over her body remained deeply and vividly etched in her mind.
The day passed in a blur of anticipation. Genevieve counted the minutes and hours that heralded Wilhelm’s return. Shewandered the halls of Ravenshire for the entire afternoon while her heart yearned for his presence.
She opened the library doors, selected a novel at random, and settled into an overstuffed wingback chair. She opened the small book and began to leaf through its pages, but the words refused to hold her attention. Frustrated, she snapped the book shut, dropped it onto the table with a thud, stood up, and left the library.
She wandered past Wilhelm’s study, but the door was closed. Sighing to herself, she climbed up the stairs, entered her room, and restlessly shuffled through the dresses in her wardrobe, but none of them felt right.
She called upon Anna to fetch her needlework, but her fingers fumbled when she tried to thread the needle. She threw her hands up in aggravation and tossed the unfinished work onto her side table.
Genevieve paced the room as her eyes bounced between the door and the clock. She restlessly drummed her fingers on the table and tapped her foot on the floor in agitation.
As the last light of day faded into night, she glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. The house was eerily quiet, and he had not come to her as he had promised.
Genevieve called for Anna, who assisted her in undressing and putting on her nightgown. With a deep sigh, she crawled under the bedcovers. Despite the darkness and the bed’s soft linens,she knew she would not be able to sleep a wink. Her fingers curled into the fabric of the sheets, her heart aching with disappointment and fading hope.
She abruptly rose from her bed. Her bare feet sank into the plush carpet as she walked towards the door that connected her chambers to Wilhelm’s, her silken gown softly brushing her legs with each step.
Pausing before the imposing oak door, her hand hovered uncertainly over the handle.
