Genevieve nodded silently, her heart pounding in her chest.
Wilhelm’s fingers slipped beneath the laces, tugging them with steady care. The corset tightened, molding to her frame. Her breath hitched slightly as each deliberate pull seemed to draw her closer to him.
“I cannot wait to undo this later,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck, his warm breath tickling her exposed skin.
Genevieve’s cheeks flushed, her body responding to his touch, voluntarily leaning into him, the back of her head resting against his chest. She enjoyed feeling the steady beat of his heart as his sculpted arms encircled her from behind, his hands resting on her stomach.
“Wilhelm,” she breathed. “Should we?—”
He cut her off, pressing a long, searing kiss to the curve of her neck. A soft moan escaped her as her eyes fluttered shut.
Then, just as abruptly, he pulled away.
“Let us save it for afterward, shall we?” he said teasingly, amusement lacing his voice.
Genevieve shrugged as she tried to compose herself. “You are a wicked man, Your Grace,” she chided playfully.
Wilhelm chuckled. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But you seem to enjoy my wickedness, darling.”
“Indeed, I do,” she admitted impishly.
Wilhelm’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with delight as he replied in a silky voice, “I assure you, darling, the moment we return, I will show you exactly how wicked I can be.”
“You seem to be enjoying this,” Wilhelm mused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
The whispers of her ‘curse’ also seemed to have faded into the background, overshadowed by the undeniable aura of power and elegance that she and Wilhelm exuded.
“It is different now.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“What makes it so?” He raised an eyebrow as his smile widened.
Genevieve giggled. “Well, you?—”
“Your Grace,” a voice purred, the words a silken caress, interrupting her. “It is a pleasure to see you at our humble gathering.”
A woman in a vibrant crimson gown approached Wilhelm, pausing before him. Her gaze lingered on his chest just a moment longer than necessary, a subtle smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Wilhelm offered a polite smile. “Lady Cavendish,” he greeted, his gaze flicking to Genevieve.
“I have missed you, Your Grace.” Lady Cavendish laughed, her words soft and velvety as she cast him a glance from beneath her lashes. “The Ton may have a different opinion about you, but I have always considered you worthy of respect and admiration.”
Her laughter rippled through the air, light and lilting, as she leaned in closer, the curve of her chest brushing against his arm.
Genevieve, her lips pursed, stepped closer, her hand resting possessively on Wilhelm’s arm.
Wilhelm, sensing the shift in the air, gave a curt nod to Lady Cavendish.
“Ah, yes. If you will excuse us.”
His voice was cool as he turned, his back stiffening as he walked past her. He placed his palm over Genevieve’s hand, his fingers stroking hers in a quiet gesture of solidarity.
Then, he moved his mouth closer to her ear, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Are you jealous, darling?” he whispered, raising an eyebrow.
Genevieve’s cheeks flushed, her gaze darting away. “Of course not,” she retorted, her voice a touch too high. “I merely wished to remind Lady Cavendish that I am present.”
Wilhelm chuckled, his amusement evident. “Indeed, Duchess,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And your presence was most certainly felt.”
